Three days later.

Clara was upset to say the least. But she'd decided to put all the unpleasant events behind her and try to be happy.

Or at least pretend to be happy.

It had been three days since the Duke had visited. Well, he'd visited everyday since, but she had refused to see him. But she'd let him spend time with Isabelle.

She'd never been so confused in her entire life.

She was currently getting ready for tonight's ball. Amy had come home and was all over her, much to Clara's amusement.

"Oh you just have to look like a princess tonight," she was gushing as she selected a particularly daring gown for her.

"Um Amy, I don't think that gown's going to make me look anything like a princess."

"Rubbish," she dismissed her with a flick of her wrists.

Clara sighed. There was no arguing with her friend when she was determined about something. Besides, she thought she should try something different for a change.

Once Clara was ready, Amelia finally let her look at herself in the mirror.

Clara gasped, she couldn't believe it.

The deep green colour of the gown matched her eyes and the low cut displayed her creamy shoulders.

She wore a single diamond pendent that rested between the valleys of her bosom.

She wore beautiful silk gloves that made her feel wicked.

What surprised her most was her face.

Amy had lined her eyes with kohl and rubbed rouge on her cheeks and lips. Her hair had been piled up in some seductive fashion.

Gone was the face of an innocent English rose. In her place stood a woman who knew about worldly pleasures, a woman who was familiar with the dark side. A woman who knew what she wanted and took it ruthlessly.

In short, she looked nothing like herself. She looked like the kind of woman she wanted to be. Except the wicked part, of course.

Amy stood there smirking.

Isabelle, who had been playing with her doll was gaping at her.

"What do you think, princess?" Amy asked her, beyond satisfied with her handiwork.

Amy and Isabelle had become fast friends.

"Clawa is lovely," she blinked.

Clara laughed and picked her up, "not as lovely as you, princess," and gave a big wet kiss on her cheek.

"Ewwww," Isabelle struggled to get out of her embrace.

Clara and Amelia just laughed, amused by her antics.

By the time they reached the ball, Clara was a bundle of nerves. She'd forgotten how unpleasant these balls usually were.

She looked to Amelia who was too busy trying to adjust her corset and failing.

Amelia had never bothered about her appearance. Ever. And still managed to look exceedingly lovely. But she looked lovelier than usual. While Amy's gown wasn't as bright as hers, the cut was equally naughty.

Something told her that some lucky man had finally caught Lady Amelia Wright's attention.

Interesting.

When Clara was announced, the entire ton turned to look at her. As she walked ahead, not really sure where she was heading, the crowd parted before her.

Was this really happening?

She was so happy, for a few moments she forgot about all the problems in her life and just basked in the attention bestowed on her.

She was surrounded by men and women trying to talk to her. It seemed like the men wanted more than to talk. Her dance card was filled in no time.

If only everything could be alright between her and her husband. As happy as she was now, she knew this pleasure of being the belle of the ball was fleeting. She could never be truly happy unless she had the man she loved by her side.

He did come asking for forgiveness, her subconscious whispered.

Clara ignored her. What he had done was unforgivable and a simple apology wouldn't suffice. She didn't think anything he did would convince her to forgive him.

She had escaped from her dance partner and had come to drink a glass of lemonade. She couldn't help but feel like her heart was being squeezed the entire time.

And then the sound of Lord Drake tapping his wine glass pulled her out of her reverie.

"My dear friends, I'm sorry to interrupt. It seems like a friend of mine has had a domestic quarrel and would like to address his wife because she won't let him see her," he laughed.

There was a wave of good natured laughter from the audience.

Clara was feeling just a bit queasy.

And then her husband walked onto the makeshift stage.

Clara thought she might cast up her accounts.

And then she really looked at him, he wore an embroidered green waistcoat that matched her gown. He looked magnificent.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm sorry to spoil your wonderful evening. But I have to apologise to someone."

Everyone turned to look at her and Clara felt the blood rushing to her cheeks.

"You see, I failed to make my wife feel cherished and loved. I hurt her very deeply. And now she won't even look at me. I don't really blame her. But I want her to know something."

He paused, as if unable to control his emotions.

"I love you, Clara. I love you so much, it hurts to even look at you. I don't know what I did to deserve your love, but if you'll still have me, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of that love. Most of all, I want you to know that I trust you. You complete me and make me whole."

Clara could feel her eyes burning.

Coward that she was, she ran out, not knowing where she was going. Finally she reached a gazebo and settled on a bench there.

She knew how difficult this would have been for him, talking about his feelings in front of everyone. 

And then she knew he was right behind her, she'd known he'd come for her. But still, it sent a wave of awareness through her.

She turned to look at him.

He looked like a man possessed, his eyes wild and his face stark with emotion.

"Say something, my love."

"Did you mean everything you just said?"

"Of course, I love you," he said, moving closer to her.

"Why did you go and make a spectacle of yourself?" she choked out, unable to prevent the bubble of joy that was forming in her.

He loved her.

"It was Lady Amelia's idea," he said, sheepishly.

Clara's mouth was hanging open. That traitor. This explained their matching clothes.

"She called on me the morning after I came to your house. I was completely drunk and she made it clear in no uncertain terms that she was quite disgusted with me."

Clara laughed, that was so like Amy.

"And then she interrogated me to find out if I really loved you, it seemed like she was satisfied with my answers. She then told me to try visiting you everyday and if that didn't work out, this was our back up plan. It wasn't much, but I thought you'd like it if I did something like William."

William was the hero from one of her books and he'd done something similar to woo his lover. Clara had once told Leo that he was her favourite hero.

He remembered, she thought ecstatically.

"I don't really know if I did the right thing, Clara. I hope I didn't cause you any embarrassment," he spoke so sincerely.

She couldn't decide if she wanted to shoot the man or kiss him.

She kissed him.

And he swooped her into an embrace so intense, she thought she might die from the relief she felt.

"Did I tell you how extraordinarily beautiful you look tonight?" he pulled back slightly.

She shook her head shyly.

"Well you do," he said gruffly and pulled her to him again.

"Tell me you love me," he pulled back from her again.

"I love you," she said looking into his eyes as if it came to her as easily as breathing.

"I love you more," he said, showering kisses on her face.

Clara giggled, she couldn't help it.

"I want to hear that sound forever,"he whispered fiercely, caressing her cheek.

As she leaned into him, Leo made a mental note of thanking Lady Amelia.