Free Sweet Awakening by Marjorie Farrell Page B

merely said, “Leave that to Mrs. Clarke. I pay her enough.”
    Justin turned down all invitations and turned away all visitors for the first few weeks. Every bit of his attention was concentrated on his wife, and Clare felt loved and cared for in the way she had longed to be all her life.
    One morning she had arisen early, and dressing quietly so as not to awake her husband, had gone for a short walk before breakfast. It was lovely to be out while the grass was still wet with dew and heavy with gossamer webs that would be invisible later in the day. It was the first time she had had to be alone in months it seemed, and she reveled in the hour.
    When she turned back and came in sight of the house, she was surprised and touched to see her husband, his shirt unbuttoned, his hair still tousled from sleep, setting out to look for her. She waved to him gaily and as he ran over to her, she saw that look of vulnerability in his eyes that had so touched her.
    “Where were you, Clare?” he asked, his voice almost harsh with worry.
    “Why, Justin, I only went out for an early morning stroll,” she answered. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you.”
    “Don’t ever leave without telling me again, Clare,” he said fiercely.
    “Of course not, my dear. Not if it worries you so,” she answered, puzzled by his vehemence but very touched by his concern.
    After their time of solitude, however, it became clear that they would have to let the world in. Justin began riding the estate and going over tenant concerns with his manager, while Clare finally got Mrs. Clarke to show her through the house and introduce her to her responsibilities. And early in August, instead of tossing all the invitations back in the tray, Justin lifted one up and said: “The Lyntons have invited us to a supper dance. Do you wish to go, Clare?”
    “That would be lovely, Justin. I am looking forward to meeting the people who will be our neighbors and friends.”
    * * * *
    The baronet and his wife were an older couple with two children, a daughter, and their oldest, a son who had been serving in India for two years. Lieutenant Lynton was home on leave, and the supper dance was in his honor.
    Justin and Clare arrived late, just before the move in to supper. Clare had been placed next to the young lieutenant, who was a delightful young man only a year older than she. He had merry brown eyes, a quick smile, and kept her laughing through most of the meal with amusing tales about his time in the East.
    “You are giving me a very unrealistic view of war, I am sure, Lieutenant,” she said as they got up from the table.
    His face became serious for a moment. “Indeed, I have. But I have found looking for any humorous possibilities enables me to survive, Lady Rainsborough.” His eyes were bleak, but only for a moment, and without thinking, she laid her hand on his arm in silent sympathy. She felt Justin behind her, and withdrawing her hand, slipped it through her husband’s arm.
    “Lieutenant Lynton was keeping me well amused all through dinner, Justin.”
    “So I noticed, Lynton.”
    Clare was surprised at her husband’s tone, which was cold and dismissive. “I will see both of you later,” she said quickly. “I am looking forward to my waltzes,” she added, smiling up at each of them.
    But later, she was surprised to have Justin approach her for the dance which was to have been young Lynton’s.
    “Oh, Justin, I would love to dance with you again, but I am promised to the lieutenant.”
    “Not anymore. I convinced him that a newlywed couple wanted all their waltzes together, unfashionable though that may seem,” he answered lightly, lifting her chin with his fingertip and looking down into her eyes with that passionate concentration that always undid her.
    “As long as he doesn’t feel I slighted him, Justin, I am happy,” she replied after they moved off.
    * * * *
    On the ride home, however, Justin started to question