The Queen's Librarian (9 page)

Tress merely put her arm around Clara’s shaking shoulders. “Best she hears it from someone who loves her. There now, dear heart.” She set a kiss to Clara’s cheek. “You’ll find someone new, you’ll see.”

“I d-d-don’t want someone n-new!” Clara cried between sobs. “I w-w-want D-D-D-Declaaaan!”

“But you
have
Declan!” Lucas insisted, waving at the letter that Alex had passed on to Laurie, and over which Laurie was now frowning. “He said quite specifically that—”

“Um, Lucas,” Alex put in quietly, “I hate to say it, but Tress may have a point.” He shrugged when Lucas glowered at him. “The letter is rather standard, really.”

Lucas stared. “Standard.”

“Oh yes,” Laurie said, nodding sagely over the letter. “‘Pains my heart’ blah blah, ‘so very sorry,’ blah blah, ‘I understand if you can’t wait for me,’ blah.” He shook his head and looked at Lucas. “I’ve said all the same things myself many times.”

Many times? Wait, when had Laurie…? You know what? Lucas didn’t want to know. He set a narrow look on Alex, who was nodding in sad agreement until he caught Lucas’s cross look and then he cleared his throat.

“Not that
I’ve
sent that sort of letter, of course. To anyone. Ever.”

Lucas didn’t want to know anything about that, either.

“
Men
,” Kaelyn said and glared between Alex and Laurie as she patted at Clara’s back. “You’re all alike and none of you can be trusted.” She kept the lethal look trained on them both until Alex and Laurie wilted then dedicated abrupt and urgent interest to the toes of their fashionable footwear. She didn’t even give Lucas a glance.

See, this kind of thing only confused Lucas. He had no idea if he should be relieved or offended that he apparently hadn’t been included in that. Should he retort,
Why do you say that like you don’t think “man” when you look at me?
Or should he just keep his mouth shut and pretend he didn’t know that his sisters—and his mother—apparently all thought of him as one of the girls?

“Lucas.” Clara’s tremulous tone did things in Lucas’s stomach that put this morning’s hangover to shame. She pulled away from Mother and the girls and set a poignant look on Lucas. “Can I talk to you? Please? Alone?”

“Oh.” Lucas swallowed.
Do you really have to?
“Um. Of course.”

Well, this could only end in tears. More of them. And probably Lucas’s. Still, it was Clara, and he owed her. And they both knew it.

Lucas took Clara’s hand and set it to the crook of his elbow. Mother didn’t want to let go of Clara, but some determined tugging on Lucas’s part and a wavery “Mother,
please
” on Clara’s did the job.

“You are head of this household and Master of Rolling Green, Lucas Tripp,” Mother said imperiously as he led Clara out of the room. “I expect you will do as you ought.”

Lucas had to wonder exactly what he “ought” but suspected Clara was about to fill him in, so he merely led her down the foyer and into the warmth of the kitchen. Miss Emma was there, of course, apparently already having heard all about it, because she had a frothy cup of hot chocolate waiting for Clara and ushered her out of Lucas’s grasp and into a chair as soon as they crossed the threshold. She didn’t even purse her lips when Bramble followed them in and laid his giant head on Clara’s knee, peering up at her with sad, sympathetic eyes as she petted one of his big floppy ears.

“Clara,” Lucas started right in, “I really think you’re jumping to—”

“Lucas.” Clara’s voice was so soft as to barely be heard, but it stopped Lucas immediately. She lifted her gaze slowly from Bramble to Lucas and set a swollen-eyed look on him so full of raw appeal that Lucas had to make a conscious effort not to start blubbering too. “I know you think I blame you for Alex.” She reached out and set a hand over Lucas’s when he flinched a little. “I don’t,” she told him, quietly and sincerely. “I never have, actually.”

Lucas’s mouth flapped. “But… and the thing with the… and I
know
you were… because I… the
looks
and the—”

“I let you think I was still smarting because you’re so very adorable about it all, and you’ve been spoiling me for three years because of it.” Clara gave Lucas a trembling smile. “But I don’t blame you and I never have. I’ve always been so very pleased with how it turned out. Alex is very good for you—he loves you and he makes you have fun, even when you’re swearing up and down you haven’t the time for it.”

Lucas kind of sank down into his seat. “…Oh.” Not especially erudite, but he honestly had no idea what to say to that. And now he really might start blubbering.

“So I don’t want you to do what I’m going to ask you to do,” Clara went on slowly, “because you think you owe me something. You don’t.” She bit her lip, which somehow jabbed into Lucas’s heart like he’d been the one who’d gotten the letter. “But I’m still going to ask you to do it.”

“Ask it!” Lucas blurted. “Really, Clara, anything at all, I only want you to be happy, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

“Good.” Clara squeezed Lucas’s hand and leveled an earnest look on him. “I want you to go and find Declan.”

Miss Emma made a little squeaking noise that was rather drowned out by Lucas’s inarticulate squawk.

He cleared his throat. “Um. What? The… oh,” Lucas managed then coughed. “I’m not sure…. What? I mean it’s not… I don’t think… I mean, what? The… what?”

“That letter is not the work of Declan Slade,” Clara said, resolute. “I think you’re right and it’s not at all what it seems.” She shook her head when Lucas opened his mouth. “Yes, he likely wrote it, but he can’t have meant it, Lucas.”

Well, how was Lucas supposed to argue that without hurting Clara even more? That wasn’t at all what he’d meant when he’d said… whatever he’d said to make Clara think this was a good idea.

“Oh, Clara love,” Miss Emma cooed and strode over to stand beside Clara’s chair and rub soothingly up and down Clara’s arm. “Isn’t it best that you try to start putting this behind you?” Her chin jutted and her brown eyes flashed. “If you ask me, it’s best it happened now instead of when you’re standing in your wedding dress and waiting beneath the arbors.” And then she turned her head a little and muttered some things between her teeth that sounded very filthy and very sincere, so Lucas hummed under his breath so he wouldn’t have to hear it.

Good grief, Lucas hoped he never did anything to make the look Miss Emma was wearing direct itself at him.

“Perhaps Miss Emma’s right,” Lucas put in softly. “Why chase after some hound who obviously can’t tell a good thing when it’s in his hands?” His voice hardened. “Believe me, I’d like to hunt him down just to give him what-for for hurting you so.”

Ooh. That had come out kind of deep and forceful. It made Lucas feel rather manly.

“Thank you,” Clara said with a smile that touched her eyes this time. “Both of you.” She set the hand that wasn’t holding Lucas’s over Miss Emma’s. “I know what you’re saying is what makes the most sense. But….” Again, she bit her lip, and again, Lucas’s heart suffered a little jabbing pang. “You know he’s apprenticing with his uncle in Red Bridge. That he hails from Ashwater, and his parents sent him off to his uncle’s to learn a trade and marry.” Clara waited until Lucas nodded. “The thing is… that’s sort of all I know.”

Lucas frowned. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at.”

“Clara love.” Miss Emma was frowning too. “Are you saying you think he’s keeping secrets?”

“Not as such,” Clara said, though she looked down into her cup of chocolate and melting froth when she said it. She sighed. “Perhaps.” She tightened her hand on Lucas’s when he twitched. “Not like that!” she hastened to add. “It’s only… some of the things he said… or, more precisely, the way he said them, or maybe
didn’t
say them, they’re only now starting to come clear in my head. And it makes me think that the letter was not Declan’s idea, and indeed not his wish.” Her eyes were starting to well over again when she looked at Lucas. “I would’ve known, Lucas. I know every jilted girl thinks the same, but I truly believe I would’ve known if he didn’t want to be with me, if he didn’t want very much to marry me. You have to believe me.
Please
. This wasn’t his choice, Lucas.”

“Then whose could it have been?”

Clara’s mouth tightened. “His father.” She shook her head. “Or perhaps his uncle. There’s no other explanation.” She looked first at Miss Emma and then back to Lucas. “Why did his family never answer your letter of introduction and invitation to meet? Have you thought about that?”

Lucas’s mouth went a little dry. “Um. Well. Yes?”

He had, actually. In a fleeting
I need to take care of this once I’m through with the other hundreds of things I need to do today
sort of way. And somehow, it had never gotten taken care of. Except things had been going so nicely, and Clara had been very happy, and there’d been no doubt in Lucas’s mind that Declan Slade had the very best of intentions, and anyway, whose family could refuse someone like Clara—beautiful, vibrant and cousin to the Queen—so Lucas didn’t suppose he’d worried about it as much as he perhaps should have done. He flushed.

“And Declan never talked about his family. Never.” Clara’s gaze was taking on a distinct edge. “Except to every now and then allude to the fact that his father didn’t approve of his choices, and that he might one day show up and demand that Declan return home.” Her smile this time was very sad. “Declan said his father wouldn’t, not once he met me and saw how happy I made him. But then….” Her lip trembled again. “But then you sent your letter, and Declan’s father never wrote you back, but maybe he wrote Declan’s uncle in Red Bridge instead, and, and, and….”

Oh. Drat. Lucas saw where this one was going.

“And you think—?”

“I think Declan’s father called him back home. I think maybe he thought I… that I was… or, rather,
wasn’t
… good enough for Declan.” That last came out as a wobbly sob.

It melted Lucas at the same time as it set a hard lump of anger in his chest. That some jumped-up wool trader in Ashwater would even
think
to insult Clara Tripp like that….

Lucas found himself on his feet before he even realized he intended to stand. “Right,” he said, from between his teeth, and he tried not to fist his hand while it was still wrapped around Clara’s. “I know exactly what to do.”

Miss Emma gave him a chiding look. “Now, dear,” she put in calmly, “I don’t think your mother will approve of—”

“My mother,” Lucas said evenly, “will simply have to understand that there are certain things a man has to do.”

Miss Emma only pursed her mouth, but Clara looked up at Lucas with eyes that were gleaming and a smile that was both grateful and admiring. Maybe Lucas hadn’t been completely decided until just that second, and maybe his brain was in the process of running around in panicked circles with a semihysterical
oh no, what have you done, take it back, take it back!
rolling around in there, but the look Clara was giving him now silenced it all immediately. And if tracking down Declan Slade and his disapproving relatives and dragging him back here like a hunting trophy—or at the very least beating the whole family bloody and mounting their heads over the mantel,
also
like a hunting trophy—turned Lucas into a hero in his sister’s shining eyes, well. Lucas didn’t get to be the hero much. Well, all right, ever.

A promise of marriage was serious business, after all. It was very nearly a legally binding contract. Lucas had every right, as Master of Rolling Green and Clara’s official and legal guardian, to demand satisfaction. In one form or another.

Anyway, Clara deserved a hero. Even if it was only short, mousy Lucas Tripp.

“I’ll pack you something for the road,” Miss Emma sighed with a distinct air of long-suffering disapproval.

Lucas gave her a firm nod and squeezed Clara’s hand one more time. “And an offering for the Green Warden. If you please.”

At least that was one part of his job he’d be able to do today.

“S
TOP
following me, I tell you. You’re not coming along, and that’s final.”

“Lucas,” Alex said reasonably, while he decidedly did not stop following, “you’re upset and not thinking clearly, and I won’t—”

“I’m thinking perfectly clearly,” Lucas replied evenly. “
Clearly
, your brother has been lusting after my sister, and
clearly
, things have progressed to not-really-courting, and
clearly
, you had no intention of telling me.”

“Oh, now, that’s not entirely fair, Lucas,” Laurie put in from a safe distance behind and with enough room for a quick sprint back up the path should he feel the need. “If Alex had told you, you’d only use the fact that Anson hadn’t asked you himself as an excuse not to let him court Tress.”

“I don’t need an excuse to not let him court Tress.
Your brother
”—Lucas turned and jabbed a finger at Alex’s chest—“is a—”

“He’s a dog, yes, I know,” Alex cut in. He grabbed Lucas’s jabby finger and curled his hand around it. “But he honestly loves your sister, and… you wouldn’t believe the change in him, Lucas, he’s a different man for Tress, and she… well, Tress loves him too.”

“Tress loves her ivory-inlaid hair combs. Tress loves anything that’s pretty.” And Anson was certainly pretty, though Alex had him beat hands down. Not that Lucas was about to admit that out loud.

Alex sighed. “She thinks he’s a good man, and for her, I think he can be. Plus, he’s the eldest.” His voice did that dulcet singsong thing that always made Lucas want to tackle him to the nearest horizontal surf—

No. No tackling. Lucas was very firm with his unruly libido on this point. No tackling for Alex, because Alex had known all about Anson and Tress and hadn’t told Lucas. Lucas made himself square his shoulders and put on a
grrrr
face.

Alex had the audacity to twitch a small smile. “His inheritance will be even bigger than mine.” Soft and slow, like love talk. “And Tress knows what she’s doing. She’s very aware of my brother’s”—he cleared his throat—“reputation.”