Chapter Eight
Two days had passed by since Clarice had seen Samuel, and she was disappointed he hadn’t called on her.
Perhaps he wasn’t interested in pursuing what they once shared, she mused as her maid, Mrs. Shelley, styled her hair.
She no longer had the dour-faced maid loyal to Chesterfield.
Mrs. Shelley had been her maid before Clarice had married and had come to her once Chesterfield died.
She remembered how shocked the butler, housekeeper, cook, and her maid—who had all treated her poorly—were when she let them go and hired ones loyal to her.
The new hires had already promised to relocate with her when the new marquess arrived and she found suitable housing.
Her father had done one thing right by her when drawing up her marriage contract to Chesterfield: He had ensured that she received two thousand pounds annually as his widow until her death or until she remarried.
“My lady, could you please stay still? I don’t want my hand to slip and burn you with the curling rod.”
“I’ll be as still as a statue.” It was hard, but she forced herself to settle down. Worrying about why Samuel did or did not call on her and where she would live would not be solved as Mrs. Shelley styled her hair.
The Earl and Countess of Langford were hosting a small dinner party this evening, and she wanted to look perfect because Lilly had sent her a note informing her that Stanton would also be attending.
Thinking about seeing him again sent her heart skipping.
She wanted to look so beautiful that he would trip over his own feet when he saw her.
If he wouldn’t take the reins, so to speak, to move their relationship forward, she would.
Yes, she was still hurt that he hadn’t rescued her from Chesterfield, but perhaps he had a good reason.
Indeed, nothing could change the past. The future .
. . could be theirs. She admired her hair in the mirror.
Mrs. Shelley had curled every strand, pinned half of it up loosely, and left the other half down to caress her neck, shoulders, and back.
“You did a splendid job with my hair, as always, Mrs. Shelley.” When she stood, she spun from side to side, causing the silk skirt of her gown to swirl around her legs.
She sighed as she admired the lovely new gown Madame Serena had delivered just that afternoon.
It was beautifully designed, featuring a beaded bodice and a flowing silk skirt with subtle touches of beading here and there, all done in shades of smoky topaz and cream.
The colors complemented her hair with just the right amount of contrast to make it interesting.
Her slippers and reticle were the same shade of topaz as her dress, but her cloak was cream, trimmed with topaz ribbon and beading.
She had never possessed a more elegant gown.
It suited her mood and purpose tonight perfectly.
With any luck, Samuel would take one look at her at the dinner party, collapse to the ground on his knees, and declare his undying love.
She exhaled and fought back the nerves prickling her skin.
She had nothing to be nervous about. If Samuel didn’t want her, then at least she could move on with her life instead of pining for a long-lost lover.
Thank goodness, Letitia was also on the guest list. She made her way down two flights of stairs and into the drawing room. No sooner had she walked to the windows facing the street than she saw the Rutherfords’ black, well-appointed carriage pull up.
“My lady,” Williamson, her butler, announced from the open doorway, “the carriage is here.”
“Thank you, Williamson. That will be all.”
Once she entered the coach with the help of one of the Rutherford footmen, she took a deep, calming breath. “I have pins and needles on my skin. If we weren’t attending the Earl and Countess of Langford’s dinner party, I may have begged off, I’m so nervous.”
Letitia giggled, looking stunning in a deep sapphire-blue gown and cloak that contrasted with her light hair and made her blue eyes shine. “I feel the same, knowing Greyson will be there. I tried on three gowns before I chose this one.”
“It’s perfect. The contrast between dark and light will hopefully mesmerize Greyson.”
“Yours as well. That color makes you glow.”
Now Clarice giggled. “I think that’s a compliment, and I don’t actually glow like a lantern.”
“Sorry, no. I should have said your complexion looks radiant—soft, creamy, and glowing in a good way.”
The carriage ride was brief, and since it was a small gathering, the long queue of carriages normally found at large gatherings was nonexistent.
Moments later, they found themselves inside Langford House, where the butler helped them with their cloaks.
A footman guided them up the stairs and into a large salon, nicely decorated in hunter green and cream.
She had heard somewhere that the previous Earl of Langford had possessed a flair for decorating, and it showed.
What Clarice noticed next was the sound of voices from the twenty or so male and female guests blended together in a musical rhythm.
It was surprising how beautiful all the voices sounded without being overwhelming.
She never admitted to anyone, but sometimes loud, crowded rooms made her feel lonely, uncomfortable, and invisible.
It was silly that she could feel lonely surrounded by so many people.
She had no explanation for why it happened.
It had happened for the first time last Season when she’d attended two house parties.
After that, she turned down most invitations, preferring to stay home .
. . alone. Which, to be sure, made no sense whatsoever.
Lord and Lady Langford, looking elegant, were both dressed in blue.
The earl in navy and tan and Lilly in a soft blue, stood off to the side, greeting their guests.
Clarice and Letitia meandered toward them.
Clarice curtsied. “Lord and Lady Langford, it is an honor to be included among your guests this evening.”
Langford bowed. “Lady Chesterfield, it is good to see you again.”
Lilly took her hands in hers. “I’m so glad you could make it. Please mingle and enjoy yourself, and we will speak later.” After Letitia made her greetings, they moved deeper inside the salon.
Letitia grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “Greyson is near the open double doors, talking with Stanton and another gentleman. The same one they were with at the Westport Ball.”
“I see.” It was hard to ignore the excited flutter in her chest when she saw Samuel, handsomely dressed in a cream linen shirt and a cravat tied perfectly into an intricate knot, a brown-and-cream patterned waistcoat, and a tan cutaway coat perfectly paired with dark brown breeches, hose, and shoes.
He stole the very air from her lungs. He would always be the most handsome and desirable man to her.
“That is Mr. Jacob Hunter. Those three have been thicker than thieves since their first days at Eton.” Clarice squeezed Letitia’s hand.
“They have spotted us and are coming this way,” Clarice breathed out, hoping she didn’t faint from the bees swarming inside her stomach most uncomfortably.
“Oh my,” Letitia said, turning pale. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”
“Me either, to be honest.” Being with Samuel was what she wanted and desired most in the world, but it also terrified her.
Her feelings and the depth of those feelings, still to this day, frightened her.
They wound around the very fabric of her heart and soul so deeply and tightly that she would never be free from them, whatever might happen between them.
Being in a loveless marriage was simple.
She had known from the very first night what her life would be like married to Chesterfield.
Although it hadn’t been easy, she’d had no expectations or delusions of love and happiness.
She had made peace with her bleak future with Chesterfield—until he died and she saw Samuel again.
But seeing him unlocked the door to her feelings, pouring out her hopes and dreams of love, happiness, and a family.
Of being in love and being loved in return.
She knew she would never be able to lock it all back behind a door, even if things soured between her and Samuel.
“Ladies.” Greyson bowed. “What a pleasant surprise seeing both of you here.” When he spoke, his eager eyes fixed on Letitia, causing her to blush.
Clarice was happy for her friend and hoped all went well between them.
“I don’t believe you have met my friends.
Lady Rutherford, may I present the Duke of Stanton and Mr. Jacob Hunter? ”
After the formalities concluded, Greyson and Letitia went for a stroll through the gardens since it was a lovely, warm, and dry evening.
“It’s very nice to see you again, Lady Chesterfield,” said Hunter, taking her hand and bowing over it. “You are as lovely as ever.” He stood without letting go of her hand, his eyes shifting from Samuel to her. And Samuel practically growled at his friend.
“Please, call me Lady Clarice. And it is a pleasure seeing you again after all these years, Mr. Hunter.”
“Lady Clarice it is,” he replied as he brought her hand to his lips, making a show of kissing her hand.
“Mr. Hunter, that is enough,” Samuel interjected.
Hunter chuckled. “Why don’t I give you both some privacy? I know when I’m not wanted.”
“Is he upset?” she asked as she watched him walk away.
“No. It takes more than just feeling unwanted to rile Hunter up. He is the easiest-going man I know.”
“I only met him a few times and don’t remember much about him.”
“He hasn’t changed much. Neither Greyson nor Hunter has. They’re still enjoying their bachelor lifestyle.”
“Greyson appears interested in Lady Rutherford.”