An Inconvenient Arrangement (Inconvenient Matches Book #2)

Chapter 38: Claire

"I fear I have injured my ankle, my Lord, and am unable to accept your invitation to dance," Claire replied with her customary frosty civility, as she had been doing for the last week whenever The Marquess of Lindsey had solicited her company. It was comfortable, this fortress that she had erected and fortified over so many years. It may be lonely, but it was safe. Safe from the likes of him, coming to plunder what little was left of her soul, the scant amounts of hope that still lingered in her heart like little sprouts that somehow survived forest fires. As he turned a congenial smile toward some other lady who had been standing beside Claire and easily extended the invitation to her instead, Claire convinced herself that she was doing the right thing by shoring up her defenses once more.

"I cannot help but feel that something is amiss, Claire," The Marquess' forehead was creased with earnest confusion. "Have I done something to upset you? I feel as though you have been avoiding me."

"You have been with us on all the events this last week," Claire could not help how the statement was delivered; as if it were a complaint. "And you called on us twice."

"And you claimed to be unwell each time I have tried to solicit a waltz," he said pointedly, a hint of impatience in his tone. "And when I called upon your family, you were unavailable each time. If I have caused offense-"

"And just who are you to me that I would be offended by anything you would do?" She sneered at him, an irrational anger rising within her, a need to show herself that he did not matter. A need to prove that she had not been so foolish as to lay herself on a platter and offer herself to the first wretched creature that had shown her even a modicum of attention. "Your estimation of yourself is erroneously high, sir."

Shock played over his features, and for good reason too, she may as well have spat in his face with her audacity. Her answer had been incredibly rude and insulting, and she felt even worse for having said it. It did nothing to ease the way her heart felt like it was bleeding, it did nothing to lift the hurt and despair that was weighing on her shoulders, threatening to pull her under. He stiffened, his amiable smile winking out like a candle, and his eyes grew cold. He bowed politely and turned to the rest of their company.

Claire's throat felt tight, tears threatening to spill over. As if she needed yet another thing that people could ridicule her for.

Why?

Why did it hurt so damn much? He was nothing. She barely knew him.

Claire sunk her fingernails into her arm in a bid to prevent the tears from spilling over.

Well, she had certainly proven her point, hadn't she? She had shown him that he was insignificant, she had put him in his place as the scandalous man who was beneath even her. That he did not deserve consideration from even her- a woman who had been brought low by her husband, left practically penniless and had been whispered about every day since.

So why did she feel so damn hurt that he had stepped back so quickly? That he had not found anything in her worth fighting for?

She knew already that she was not loveable, she knew already that all of it had been stripped from her year after year she had spent in her marriage. Why did it hurt, when he merely showed her what she had already known?

She had not been special, she mused bitterly, as several women came to offer their greetings, batting their eyelashes at him in flirtation. They all joked and flirted and smiled until his hand scrawled over their dance cards; promising them a set each with his signature dignified charm. Claire felt sick to her stomach.

Why was it that she felt as if she was bleeding while he smiled, and laughed? Why was she the one to suffer when it was he who had played with her? He who had seen her vulnerability and had amused himself by making a game of her?