Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

T he first week of Roderick’s marriage had not gone the way he expected. Honestly, as often as he’d thought of meeting the love of his life, how he would immediately recognize her as the match of his heart, he hadn’t thought much past that. Marriage had been a foggy notion to him.

The reality of it was interesting . That was the best word for it. Everything about it was new, unexpected, as he began the slow process of learning the woman who was now his wife.

At the moment, Clarissa sat to his left at the breakfast table, going through invitations and household notes, a cup of tea gripped carefully in her fingertips. She had sunk easily into her role as countess. She already knew every servant’s name and at least a little about their circumstances. She was firm but kind in her dealings, always perfectly walking the delicate line between herself and those that served her.

She kept to a rigid schedule. He had learned it almost by heart now. She rose at the same time each day, even if he tried to drag her back into their bed with kisses and pleasure. She readied herself, she answered correspondence, she met with Stevenson for a daily breakdown of what was happening in the household .

Afterward she shared breakfast with Roderick and he watched her just as he was doing now, her still focused on everything but him.

The shell of her propriety existed, even though sometimes he could coax her into his arms in the afternoon, or draw her there at night and strip all that away as he introduced her to more and more pleasure. He was addicted to her at present. To her taste and the way her hair felt when it brushed his skin. To the music of her moans and the tremble of her body when she came.

He shifted in discomfort as his body ached for her, and cleared his throat. She lifted her gaze to his with a little smile.

“What are your plans today, Roderick?” she asked, setting her papers away and focusing all her attention on him. That was another bewitching thing about her. When someone spoke to her, she truly listened.

He winked at her, trying to clear the tension in his body with playful teasing. “I wondered if I might first tempt my lovely wife back to bed.”

She shook her head with a laugh. “I am dressed and ready for my day, my lord.”

“Oh yes, I know how you hate to be mussed,” he said, and took her hand, lifting it to his lips.

She shivered, so he knew she wasn’t immune to him. But the propriety was a wall she built. He shouldn’t care about that. This was no love match and surely the passion would fade at some point. And yet he wished she would let him past that wall. Let him in further than just her body.

He cleared his throat. “Mr. Brightly is in Town.”

“Ah, yes, your estate manager for Stratford Manor in Kirkwood,” she said.

He smiled a little. She did recall every detail. “Yes. We’ll travel to the estate in a few weeks, so I’ll be speaking to him about readying the place and also regarding a few repairs and upgrades that need to be in place before the colder months.”

She nodded. “Yes, I believe the almanac predicted a more bitter winter in Kirkwood this year.” She worried her lip. “I ought to think about what I can do for our tenants to ensure their comfort. Perhaps prepare baskets when I do my first tour of the estate.”

He stared at her, taken in for a moment by her easy kindness. Her concern for people she hadn’t even met yet. “That’s a lovely idea, Clarissa.”

“Are you meeting with Mr. Brightly here?” she asked.

“Yes, at two. Will you join us?”

She sighed. “Oh dear. I’m to meet with my seamstress at the same time.”

“You’re buying new gowns?” he asked, almost hopeful. She did look lovely in everything she wore, but he longed to see her in any color but white. It felt so bland to him, so bereft of the personality he was beginning to see more and more.

She pursed her lips briefly, clearly troubled, though he wasn’t certain why. “One new gown and a fresh lining on a favorite coat.”

“What color will the gown be?” he asked, trying not to appear too interested.

She took a sip of tea and watched him over the rim. “White, of course.”

He frowned. “Have you ever considered buying a fabric of another color?”

There was a flash of a moment where he thought he saw longing in her eyes. The desire for more than she so often pushed away out of some strange attachment to the idea of doing what was “right”. Then it was gone.

“A lady should wear white,” she said softly. “And not put too much stock in the cut or color of her gown. The lady should be elegant, not the clothing.”

He wrinkled his brow. “You recite that like it comes from a book.”

She shifted a little. “And what if it does?”

He raised his hands at the defensiveness of her tone. “I only made the observation.”

She rose from the table and so he did the same out of the politeness that she so treasured. “You needn’t worry yourself about such frivolous things as my gowns, my lord. You surely have more pressing matters to occupy your time.”

“I like considering your gowns.” He stepped toward her and took her hand. “I like the idea of you having something pretty that you enjoy.”

Her lips pursed and she gently tugged her hand free. “A lady ought not trouble her mind with such things.”

He sighed. Once again, there was the wall. Insurmountable at present. Perhaps forever. Why did that make his chest ache?

“Well, I ought to take care of a few things before I make my way to my appointment,” she said. “Oh, and my parents will be joining us for supper.”

He barely managed not to pull a face. “Very good. Then I suppose I won’t see you until then?”

She nodded. “Good day, Roderick.”

She moved as if to walk past him, but he caught her arm gently and pulled her back. She stared up into his eyes, the flutter of her swallow the only indication that he moved her. But he saw it. He chased it.

“I’d like a farewell kiss,” he said softly.

She made a little sound in her throat, lifting her lips toward him as he lowered his own to meet her. The kiss was gentle at first, but in a moment the heat began to take over. To his joy, she allowed it, opening to him, gripping at his jacket with her fists. But before he could sweep her away, she gasped and stepped back. Her pupils were dilated with desire, her hands trembled a little at her sides as she fisted them there.

“I—” she murmured, and then she bent her head. “Good day.”

With that she slipped from the room, leaving him to watch after her and wish, from someplace he didn’t fully understand, that he could bring her back to him. Keep her with him. Protect her from the monsters that had caused her to build those walls.

Even though that wasn’t his place. He had declared from the beginning that it couldn’t be, and she seemed to agree. So that was that.

M iss Swanlea was well known as one of the best seamstresses in all of London. Not only did she have access to the most beautiful and fine fabrics, but she could make a gown that perfectly fit the body of any client. Normally, Clarissa was thrilled to be with the lady, to explore her textiles and discuss what simple cuts of a gown would best display both modesty and timeless style.

But today she was distracted. She kept losing track of the conversation while the seamstress measured her. And worse, now that she was in the showroom to choose the fabrics for her purchases, her eyes kept moving away from the white silks and linens toward the stacks of rainbow colors on other tables spread across Miss Swanlea’s small showroom.

“Lady Kirkwood?”

Clarissa blinked. That was her title. She started and looked at the seamstress. “Oh, my apologies,” she said. “I seem to be woolgathering. It’s so impolite.”

Miss Swanlea looked at her a moment. “I notice you keep glancing toward that table of pinks. Would you like to try a fabric with color for this new gown?”

The word yes screamed through Clarissa’s mind in an instant, overriding all else. She frowned. It seemed her new role as countess was having a negative effect on her. She was only thinking of what she wanted, not what was best or most proper. Perhaps that was what happened when one started craving pleasure like she did now. Pleasure with Roderick.

“I…” She trailed off and looked toward the table again. She moved toward it, almost against her will, and let her fingers drift over a pink jacquard silk. The little flowers that were part of the fabric pattern felt so lovely. What would Roderick say it she came downstairs in this ?

“That color would be perfect against your skin,” Miss Swanlea said, almost gently, as if talking to a scared filly.

Clarissa released the silk and turned back toward the whites. “All your fabric is perfection. But I believe I must stick to the tried and true, rather than draw attention to myself through fashion. The white muslin for the gown, please. And the new lining we already discussed.”

There was a moment where the seamstress appeared disappointed, but she nodded. “Of course, my lady. I’ll be sure to have them ready as soon as possible.”

“Good day,” Clarissa said, and inclined her head when the woman bowed to her. That was truly going to take some getting used to.

She turned and found her maid, Hester, already waiting at the door. They departed together and Clarissa sighed as she looked down the lane. A few doors down was Mattigan’s bookshop, one of her favorite haunts. She knew Roderick was busy with his meeting with the estate manager, so she had time to browse.

“Let’s go to Mattigan’s,” she said, and together they walked to the shop.

After she was greeted by the kind and friendly owner, himself, Clarissa took a deep breath and relaxed into the atmosphere of the shop. Tall shelves were arranged in never-ending rows all the way back to the cozy fireplace with its comfortable chairs at the back of the shop.

As Hester stepped away, Clarissa began to walk the aisles, touching the spines of the books gently. There were so many she wished to read, but since she had agreed to give a large portion of her pin money to her parents, she had to be frugal. At any rate, she hadn’t fully explored Roderick’s beautiful library yet. Oh, how she loved that room with its high round ceiling and bright light from what felt like innumerable windows. She needed to determine if any of her desired titles were already there.

She made a mental note of the titles she needed to search for as she found her way to the Shakespeare section of the shop. There were many different volumes and productions of the Bard’s extensive work and she picked almost every one up to look at the different foils and bindings of them. She had almost finished in the section when she noticed a volume of Othello . She smiled as she thought of one of her first conversations with Roderick back at her family estate. How they had somehow bonded over Othello even in the midst of their early rivalry.

The binding was particularly beautiful on this edition, with gold filigree on the cover and the same on the edges of the pages. She had already looked at all Roderick’s Shakespeare volumes and she knew he didn’t have this particular version. He would love it, she was certain. She’d always liked finding the perfect gift for people she cared about.

Cared about. Yes, she cared about Roderick. That was allowed, wasn’t it, in a marriage of convenience? They were supposed to be friends, after all. Sharing a bed made that more complicated in ways she hadn’t expected. The longing she felt whenever he was near her was often confusing. Despite that, she was trying to remain true to their original agreement to what this marriage would look like.

She clutched the book to her chest and went to the raised desk where Mr. Mattigan stood, going through a pile of books.

“Good afternoon, my lady,” he said. “I see you’ve found something there.”

“Yes, this is a beautiful version of Othello .”

“Ah yes, a wonderful printing from Bandy and Sons. They make fine versions of any book or play.”

“I’d like to know the price, if you don’t mind,” she said, and handed it up to him.

“That one is two pounds, my lady,” he said.

She blinked. Two pounds! That was an enormous sum, though she should have guessed it. Books were expensive as it was and this one was a beautiful version. Her pin money was generous, but she knew a great portion of it had already been bled away to her parents’ account. This would take the remainder of her funds for the month, when she took into account the gown and lining she’d already agreed to at Miss Swanlea’s. So much for any other frivolities.

But she thought of Roderick again. Thought of how gentle he was as he guided her through the beginning of their marriage. She wanted to give him this gift. She could economize until her next deposit of funds. She ought not to be treating herself too often anyway.

She glanced at Mattigan again. “I’ll take it. Wrap it up, will you?”

Mattigan nodded with a smile and did so, making a pretty package with a bright ribbon for her. She said her farewells and then she and Hester were off again, back toward the London estate.

And the husband that caused such troubling mixed emotions and desires in her body, mind and soul.

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