To Dishonour A Duke

Chapter Two

Removing her gloves, Clara follows the duchess down the dimly lit corridor to the left,  feeling on edge as the many eyes of the portraits on the walls seem to follow her, fixing her with judgmental sneers. She is thankful to escape the critical expressions of the Cavendish ancestors as the duchess leads her into a small parlour and shuts the door on the portraits. With cream walls glowing in the warm light from the candles, the room appears cosy and welcoming, with heavy curtains drawn across the wide Elizabethan window. Dark wooden flooring adds to the warming ambience and the few items of furniture that have been picked complement the simple but charming reception room. 

Clara waits for the other woman to sit before sinking into the armchair opposite. She runs an appreciative hand over the imported leather and settles against the rich velour cushion than accompanies it. Like every piece of furniture in the room, the chair is beautifully made to match its counterparts, the dark material soft and comfortable.  

She stiffens as she becomes the victim of intense scrutiny, an uneasy knot twisting in her stomach, the urge to bite her nails rising. Without looking at her surveyor, she flicks out the crumpled skirt of her dress, smoothing it down, her ankles crossed underneath, and politely folds her hands in her lap. These casual actions provide her with an air of nonchalance and spark the courage she needs to address a friend from the past. When she looks up a pair of violent purple eyes clash with her brilliant blue ones, a flurry of emotion cascading through them. The darker pair brighten with distrust.  

Leaning into the side of her chair, her elbow on the armrest, the duchess rests a delicate finger under her chin, an impassive expression in place, the challenge evident. Clara's hands began to twitch, an itch running under her skin, but she holds herself quite still, refusing to cower or break the stare. Tension begins to thicken the air, and the quiet is only broken by the flickering of the candles, the two women locked in a silent war. A rush of wind is heard against the window, the makings of a storm gathering outside, but it is insignificant to the heavy atmosphere swirling in the parlour of Lygon Place. At last, the duchess leans forward and rings the bell placed on the table that separates them, the high chime echoing through the many halls and walls of the house. The invitation is clear, and Clara exhales, her shoulders loosening. 

"I should offer my congratulations on your marriage," she says after a thought, "That would be the appropriate comment to make, would it not? You have a title now...and a house larger than a street. It is.....different" 

"It does not suit me, does it?" The young woman raises her eyebrows, a slight taunt to her words. She looks around the parlour, a small sneer appearing as she appraises the heavy silk curtains and the expensive writing desk tucked into the far corner. Her disgust grows, and her lips curl further as she runs a nail down the arm of her chair.  

Clara looks down into her hands, twiddling the pearl ring that sits on her finger, the scratched stone dull and wonky against the polished silver band, two Celtic knots on either side.

"Do not fret." The duchess waves a careless hand, dark amusement dancing in her eyes. "Under all the jewels and dresses, this ridiculous house, I am still the Clarissa Lenoir that society loves to belittle and berate." She appears calm, in all pretence of politeness, but there is a harshness to her tone. "I trust you agree when I say that we bear a slight understanding of the other, and in that manner, I must ask that we do not dance with pleasantries and that you simply tell me what you have come for." 

"Very well." Clara addresses her with a tight-lipped smile, her head held high. "There once was a time where you thought yourself in my debt, that you owed me." She pauses but Clarissa offers no reaction to her words so she continues, treading with caution. "While the timing hardly does credit to my character, this is something I would ask of you. A favour if you will."