"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?
In a while, Elizabeth returned from the dance she had promised her soldier and cajoled the Marquess to take her for the turn about the room, looking like a handsome pair indeed. Claire felt her stomach lurch when the two bent their heads together and began an intimate conversation, sharing secrets and jest. Claire snagged a flute of champagne and took a deep drink, turning away to speak to her acquaintances before she had to witness more of their sickening intimacy. If there was anything that Claire hated more than the fact that she was weak enough to be hurt by him, it was being jealous of Elizabeth and the attention she garnered. There was nothing more pathetic in her eyes than envying Elizabeth her youth and beauty.
And that too for a man as dishonorable as The Marquess of Lindsey.
About an hour or so had passed when Claire noticed that she had not spied Elizabeth since she had danced with the Marquess. She looked for Helen who made a casual wave in the direction of the balconies, saying that Elizabeth had gone for some fresh air in the company of friends. A perusal of the ballroom showed her that the Marquess was nowhere to be seen, either. Her head, already a touch light from the champagne she had consumed, began to spin as lead settled in the pit of her stomach, chains wrapping around her lungs making it difficult to breathe.
She could not recall being in so much pain. Not even when her husband had spurned her company for his mistress time and again. At least Northhaven had never tricked her, Northhaven had never made her feel as if she was worthy of adoration. In a way, James St. Alexander had been more cruel to her in these short months than Northhaven had been in almost two decades. He had, for the briefest moments, allowed her to hope that she could have had all those things she had stopped wanting, and then he had set that same hope aflame.
Losing something was infinitely harder than never having it at all.
With each step she took towards the relatively secluded upper floor where the balconies looked over a beautiful garden that Claire had been unable to enjoy due to the tempest that had been roiling inside her, threatening to take her apart at the very seams. Her footsteps felt heavier and heavier the closer she got to the section that was furthest away from the ballroom, the area that was most secluded from the rest of the party. Somewhere ideal for an assignation with a lover. She was unsurprised to find the door closed. She twisted the nob and was unsurprised to find both her quarries within. And though she had expected this very scene, she was still hit so hard with disappointment that she had to close her eyes for a moment. She opened them again, the view was still heart-wrenchingly dismal; Elizabeth staring up at him with naked adoration, James returning her gaze with one of tenderness.
There was a tear along Elizabeth's sleeve and the rest of her dress was mused as if she had been in a passionate encounter.
Claire's rage erupted like a volcano.
"Get away from him, Elizabeth!"
"Claire! Thank heavens-!" The Marquess began, cut off by her when she placed her hands on his chest and shoved him with every ounce of strength she had in her body. He stumbled backward, tripping over something that she could not see in the darkness of the balcony.
"Claire!" Elizabeth shrieked in horror as the Marquess grabbed the railing for stability, gaping at her. Claire felt so strange, as if her mind was disconnected from her body and she was merely a spectator to the disaster that followed.
"You disgusting, faithless bastard!" Claire snarled at him as she grabbed Elizabeth's arm, pulling her behind herself. Her voice was dripping with haughty condescension. "Did it amuse you to string her along all the while you were kissing me? Does it amuse you to tamper with women's sentiments? Though why should I even ask, when your faithlessness embarrassed your first wife to the extent that she would rather be a pariah than stay married to you? Come to think of it, aren't shaded alcoves and dark balconies exactly your domain? Seems it is true that a leopard cannot change his spots, indeed."
"No, Claire!" Elizabeth tried to wrench herself from Claire's bruising hold. The shock and bafflement on James' face morphed into chilling fury, his face going pale, lips thinning. "You misunderstand!"
"I misunderstand nothing!" She spat. "You are little more than a child, you know nothing of the men of his ilk. I am merely glad that he has shown his true colors before I let him make a fool of the two of us!"
"My Lady," he began in a tight voice but she wanted none of it. She held up a hand, offering him her most insulting look.
"Did you find your amusement, you pig? Did it entertain you to charm a widow who you knew had suffered? Did it amuse you to make me think that I could actually have all these things that remained out of my reach for two decades? How easy it must have been for you, how pathetic you must have thought me! A measure of chivalry and I was wrapped around your finger like the veriest of fools. Hear me, Marquess, when I say that no force on earth could compel me to marry a man as vile as you. I should sooner marry another Northhaven, for at least he was honest! Find yourself some other fool to trap, someone else to humiliate with your perfidy for if you ever approach my sister or myself I swear to you I will use what little is left of my influence to destroy you, no matter what the cost would be to myself."
"Claire! No!" Lizzie was sobbing. "Claire he saved me! It wasn't him, it was the lieutenant-!"
But her words may as well have fallen on deaf ears because it did nothing at all to halt her tirade.
"The audacity of you to come waltzing back into society as if you haven't destroyed a woman's life with your selfishness is almost laughable! You have no business being around respectable people. Though I suppose some of the blame falls to me for being foolish enough to believe that you-!" Why did her voice have to crack and waiver? She did not want to show weakness, not here, not in front of him. "That you had honest intentions regarding someone like me."
White-faced, the Marquess nodded tightly before moving past her and stopping before Elizabeth, he offered her a handkerchief and a gentle, reassuring smile. "Your mother will be along soon, don't worry. I shall make arrangements for you to leave discreetly, you needn't worry about anything."
Lizzie started to cry even harder, "Please, don't go! She doesn't mean it! This is all a misunderstanding."
"I meant every word I said," She all but hissed.
That made the Marquess halt at the door, turning sharply toward her one last time.
"So did I, Claire. I never once thought you pathetic or foolish or unloveable," He said and though his words were hushed, Claire could feel the rage and frustration behind them. "These are things that you think about yourself, and that is something to be pitied indeed. You need not worry, I shall not be bothering you again."
"No, wait, please," Elizabeth tried on last time. "I can fix everything, don't leave."
"What other choice do I have?" The Marquess offered Elizabeth a singular, sad smile and slipped out the door. For a mad moment, Claire was gripped by the inexplicable urge to call after him, the decisive snick of the door ringing with a finality that made her chest squeeze tight. Claire waited for long moments in the fraught silence before Lizzie finally turned to her, and the rage burning in her eyes practically searing her to the bone.
"What have you done?!"
"I protected you!" Claire snapped back. "You are young, Lizzie! I know you are disappointed, he was titled and wealthy and charming but it was all a facade! While he was charming you, he was kissing me! Making me promises that were only lies!
"You're wrong! You weren't here-!"
"Did he touch you? What has happened to your sleeve? I swear if he took any liberties with you I will shoot him myself!"
"Why won't you listen to me?!" Elizabeth was drastically close to yelling, something that was entirely foreign to her usually sweet disposition. "He saved me! The lieutenant tried to take advantage of me, he was being forceful but thankfully Lord Lindsey had seen him follow after me and came because he was concerned!"
"What-?!"
"From the very beginning, you wished to see a villain in him! When all he wanted was to find himself a wife, a companion! Just because you do not have the courage to pursue it, why would you punish him?"
"You would defend him? After I told you that he was already being deceitful?! As if being faithless is not what he is known for?!"
"Oh, you idiot! He made a mistake when he was a scant few years older than I! Does he not deserve absolution after all this time? He was never deceitful, he was never interested in me! From the very beginning, it was you he wanted. Though now I wonder why!"
"N-No. He waltzed with you! You and he were always whispering and sharing secrets. I saw how the two of you were looking at each other just now, I saw it."
"You saw what, Claire? A woman thankful to the man who rescued her? Any time we talked or whispered was because he wanted help wooing you! Are men not allowed to dance with other women, now, in your estimation? He wanted to learn how to waltz, so I offered to teach him! So that he could dance with you!"
"N-no," Claire felt her dinner threaten to come back up. "But his wife-"
"Left him? Yes! And he allowed it! He could have spared himself this humiliation, this conjecture, but he bore all of it! He didn't have to go through the additional trial that would enable her to remarry. A woman cannot divorce her husband, it is he who must seek it! Who benefitted from that, do you think? The woman who married her lover not a month after it was finalized? Or the man that waited thirty long years before he tried to find someone for himself?! You chose to see the worst in him because of his past, but do you know what I see? A man who wanted to make amends for the hurt that he had caused. A man who did the right thing even when it was infinitely harder. I see a man of bravery and honor, traits that are sadly lacking in you."
"Elizabeth, you don't-"
"Don't you dare try and lord your years over me and use my youth as an excuse to undermine the truth. What have you seen, what have you experienced outside of one terrible man? James is nothing like Northhaven! He was kind and honest, and he cared for you! But you, Claire, are a coward who would rather hold on to fear and anger and hatred than let them go and be happy! You could have had a wonderful man and you ruined it! And what for?"
"I was trying to protect you!" Claire rasped, the tears she had been holding back finally slipping down her cheeks. "I do not want you to become like me. I lost every happiness because I married a man who was faithless. I lived two decades without a morsel of love, and with not even a child to show for it. I want better than this for you, I want you to be happier than I."
"Oh, stop lying, Claire. You are the architect of your own misery and now you seek to use me as a shield to explain the fact that you did not have the bravery to accept happiness when it was offered to you? It wasn't for me, what you did just now. It was all you, but you just refuse to stop playing the martyr! If Northhaven was unfaithful, then you ought to have gotten a lover for yourself! If you wanted a child badly enough, you ought to have gotten with child from another man! Northhaven would have had no choice but to legitimize the child even if it was not his, he couldn't have done anything about it! But of course, you would rather stay bitter and sorrowful than have the bravery to change your circumstances. And why, if you had, it would ruin this illusion of victimhood you have woven around yourself and refuse to leave. So, fine! Have it your way, Claire. Stay lonely, and bitter, and miserable. I wash my hands of you! You may let Northhaven control and destroy you from beyond the grave so long as it gives you an excuse to justify your awful treatment of a good man for having the audacity to see something in you. I believe you have done him quite the favor, for he deserves better than this."
Claire gasped as if she had been dealt a physical blow rather than a verbal one, her head swimming as her heart and soul tore themselves to pieces. She felt so hurt, so exposed as if Elizabeth had cut her down in the middle and exposed every ugly inch of her.
And Claire could not find a single word to say in her own defense. Everything Elizabeth had said had been true. She had been so wrapped up in her own hurt and insecurity that she found the first excuse to vilify James because thinking that he was dishonest was less terrifying than leaving behind her defenses that had been her comfort for so long.
And now he was gone.
He would never speak to her again, that much she knew. Not after what she had done tonight. He had seen the worst of her, she had hurled such horrible, unforgivable words at him, how could he ever bear to stomach her presence again? What apology could possibly atone for a slight of this magnitude?
The door opened and Helen came in, two footmen behind her bringing their cloaks.
"Ladies? What has happened here?"
"Nothing," Elizabeth sneered. "Claire was merely being herself."
Helen's eyes looked at Claire's tear-streaked face before urging Elizabeth to go wait in the carriage. Once Elizabeth was gone, Helen turned to Claire, stepping close. Claire prepared for the barrage of questions that would come, and the inevitable berating that would follow it, but Helen merely pulled Claire into an embrace.
"Whatever it is, it will be alright," Helen whispered fiercely and Claire dissolved into full, harsh sobs that wracked her entire body.
No. It was unlikely that it would be alright for a long, long time.