Portrait of a Protégé by J. B. Chicoine

Author:J. B. Chicoine [Chicoine, J. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Straw Hill Publishing
Published: 2013-10-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Leila pushed the remains of a poached egg around in its cup and glanced at Clarence across from her. She hadn’t rested well, knowing Clarence slept in a room across the balcony. If they had been at his house, they would have talked late into the night, exhausted or not, but as it was, he retired early with nothing more than a quick goodnight. It wasn’t as if he had stayed up talking to her grandmother instead of her, so she couldn’t label her ‘off’ mood as jealousy, but as she lay alone in her bed last night, she wished for his company—for his nearness—to fall asleep to the rhythm of his breath as she had done with Ian.

Leila set her fork down as Miss Phillips pushed away from the breakfast table.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a few details to go over with Garrison.” Angela lingered in Clarence’s gaze. “I hope the two of you will make yourselves at home.”

“Thank you.” He patted his mouth with the starched linen as Angela stepped out of the room. With a smile, Clarence turned his attention to Leila. “I do believe I’ll go for a walk.”

She had already been for her early morning run, but she chimed in, “How about some company?”

He stood. “If you don’t mind, sweetheart, I think I’d like some time alone with my thoughts.”

“Oh. Okay,” she rose with him, feeling put out and then embarrassed at her possessiveness.

He stroked her arm and grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

“I know. I just ….”

“What?” he stepped closer, his head tipped. The inquisitive eyes she had seen at dinner stared down upon her.

He looked different to her—perhaps more relaxed, maybe younger. Something was different.

“It’s nothing.” Leila blushed. When he shot her his incisive squint, she turned away. “I have stuff to see to, anyhow.”

He followed her out of the dining room. “You’re sure?”

Sure that it’s nothing? No. Sure that I have stuff to see to? “Of course.” She was not accustomed to withholding thoughts or feelings from Clarence, but if she tried to put her anomalous emotion into words, it would have come out as I want you! Those words did not set well with her, and they would have freaked him out, for sure.

“Alright, then.” He exited through the front door as she paused near the ballroom; familiar sounds of piano tuning lured her to its entrance. Perhaps she would spend a little time out on the back patio alone with her own thoughts. She needed to smooth her angst or agitation or whatever it was that coursed through her every time she looked into Clarence’s eyes. As she stepped into the ballroom and walked past the Steinway on her way to the rear French doors, she smiled, thinking of Jared for the first time in days. She wondered how things were working out between him and Sarah.

Sitting under the trellis, where dormant planters and pillared railings bespoke antebellum grandeur, Leila tugged at a pair of her grandmother’s vintage capris.

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