“Which Daughter Is Yours?” the Duke Asked — Her Father Introduced Three Girls and Left Clara in the Shadows, Never Dreaming the Duke Would Uncover Why She’d Been Hidden for Fourteen Years… and Choose Her as His Duchess

PART 2 

Before William could respond, an elderly footman approached carrying a tray. He saw Clara and smiled with the warmth of long acquaintance.

“Lady Clara — my lady, Mr. Hayes asked whether you wished him to bring the estate papers to the carriage.”

The silence was immediate. Nearby, a matron’s fan stopped mid-motion. Two gentlemen exchanged a glance that traveled the length of the room faster than any servant could carry a message. The footman’s smile vanished as he realized what he had interrupted. William looked from Clara to Lord Bennett. “Lady Clara.”

Bennett’s face drained of color. Clara could hear the faint clink of glassware from the next room.

William stepped toward her. “Forgive me,” he said, his voice quiet enough to make her father strain to hear it. “I seem to have been given an incomplete introduction.”

Clara held his gaze. “That happens rather often, Your Grace.”

Something changed in William’s expression. Not pity. Interest.

He turned slowly toward Lord Bennett. “Then perhaps you would explain why you introduced every daughter except the one standing directly in front of me.”

“There is nothing to explain,” Lord Bennett said, but his voice had lost its easy warmth.

William’s attention remained on him. “Then this should be brief.”

Catherine shifted beside her father. Rose stared determinedly at the floor. Lydia’s fingers tightened around her pearl bracelet. Clara knew those gestures. Her sisters had learned, as she had, that silence was safest when their father felt cornered.

“Clara is my daughter from my first marriage,” Bennett said at last. “She prefers a quiet life and has no interest in society.”

Clara almost admired the smoothness of it.

William turned toward her. “Is that true, Lady Clara?”

Her father answered first, entirely. William did not even glance at him. “I asked Lady Clara.”

A small silence opened between them. Clara could have protected her father. Habit urged her to do exactly that. Instead, she said, “I have never been given enough experience of society to determine whether I dislike it.”

Catherine inhaled softly. Bennett’s face hardened.

William’s expression barely changed, yet Clara sensed his attention sharpen. “Then perhaps London has been deprived of useful evidence.”

“London appears to survive deprivation remarkably well.”

The corner of his mouth moved. Before Bennett could interrupt, the elderly footman returned. “Forgive me, Lady Clara. Mr. Hayes says the papers concern the Miller tenancy and require an answer tonight.”

Clara closed her eyes for half a second. Her father spoke through his teeth. “Not now.”

William looked at him. “Estate papers?”

“A trivial matter.”

“Eleven people may disagree,” Clara said quietly.

Bennett turned on her. “Enough.”

William heard the number. “What eleven people?”

Clara hesitated. “Tenants on one of my father’s properties.”

“And why are their papers being brought to you?”

“Because Mr. Hayes knows I will read them.”

The answer landed harder than she intended. Bennett reached for his wine. His hand was not entirely steady.

William studied Clara for another moment, then stepped aside as new guests approached. “I believe we will continue this conversation later.” It sounded less like courtesy than certainty.