Chapter Eleven #2
Right before she entered the drawing room, she took a deep breath, exhaled, and straightened her back.
This was the last person in the world she wanted to see, but she would be strong and forthright.
Under no circumstances would she cave or show weakness to the man who had sired her but was no father to her.
He’d proven that when he’d sold her to Chesterfield.
“Good afternoon, Father,” she said as she swept into the room, acting as if she hadn’t a care in the world and hadn’t just fainted dead away in a shop less than an hour ago. He stood looking out the window. “Would you care to sit? I’ve requested refreshments.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said as he turned around, walked to a chair facing the settee, and waited for her to sit.
As she settled into the settee and adjusted her skirts, her father sank into the chair and looked at her thoughtfully, with an unhappy expression on his face. “I heard gossip that Stanton spent the night in your bed after a small gathering at the Earl and Countess of Langford’s.”
It took all of Clarice’s willpower not to blanch and give her father any satisfaction regarding his rude comment. Nor confirm the gossip. “You know the good members of the ton love to make up rumors and spread gossip. Some of the older ladies live for it as they have nothing better to do.”
“Is. It. True?” he practically growled at her, his dark eyes narrow and full of hatred.
What had she ever done to deserve such contempt from him? She swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat, told her heart to slow its erratic beating, and ignored his question. “I also heard some disturbing news today. What did you do to Samuel?”
He glared daggers at her. “That is between him and me, and I will not discuss it. Regardless of whether he spent the night in your bed.” He paused as a footman entered the room and placed a tray with tea and biscuits on the oval table in front of the settee.
Once the footman retreated, he continued.
“I forbid you to ever see that rakehell again. He has bad blood running through his veins—the blood of his lying, cheating father.” He paused and inhaled.
“Of course, you have the blood of your lying, unfaithful mother in you. Perhaps you two deserve each other.” He jumped up and began to pace.
“They had an affair.” He swung in her direction, his features twisted in anger.
“Did you know that? The blackguard—my best friend—and your mother had an affair that lasted years. How dare he touch what was mine?”
The only thing she could think to say was, “When?”
“When!” he bellowed. “Does it matter when? What matters is that the man put his cock and spilled his seed inside my wife. All I can say is thankfully it happened years after you were born, otherwise . . .”
His crude words shocked her, but the upset in her stomach eased somewhat at the realization that she’d already been born. She couldn’t even imagine the alternative. Then something clicked into place. “Did you find out the day Samuel proposed to me?”
Her father combed his fingers through his hair and groaned. “Yes. My wife’s cuckolding me with Stanton broke me. Two people I loved betrayed me. I suspected for some time your mother was having an affair, but not until that day was it confirmed, and with whom.”
Now everything made more sense. And when the previous Stanton and her father had sat down to discuss the marriage contract, the truth must have come out, and he’d used his lack of funds as a convenient excuse and made the most of it.
No wonder her father acted so cross and irrational that day and in the days, months, and years afterward.
Although she never actually saw her father during her marriage to Chesterfield, she’d heard things about him.
Not that she was forgiving him for how he’d treated her or her mother from that day onward, but it did shed light on her father’s state of heart and mind.
Honestly, though, nobody becomes an unreasonable monster overnight unless those traits have been hiding inside all along.
“So I will say again, I forbid you from seeing Stanton.” Once more, he glared at her with hatred and anger twisting his once handsome face.
“I’m sorry for what you endured, through no fault of your own.
However, I am a widow and a grown woman.
You have no say over what I do or over me.
I will see Samuel if I choose to.” She swallowed the rest of what she wanted to say.
She hoped to marry him and have his children, but part of her still feared her father and what he might do to either her or Samuel.
“Where is Chesterfield’s heir? It’s been two years. I’m shocked that Prinny hasn’t taken everything back and gifted the title and lands to one of his favorites. Or someone who has served him and the Crown well.”
“He should arrive soon.” Her father had voiced something she had often wondered about herself.
“Good. When he arrives, I will speak with him. Since he is now your guardian, I will have him forbid you from seeing Stanton, and I will help him choose your next husband.”
Her heart stopped at her father’s words and his delusions.
She stood up, suddenly emotionally drained, not that she would let her father see.
Instead, she let her simmering anger come to the surface.
“I would like you to leave now. And please refrain from ever coming here or approaching me ever again. You ceased to be my father when you sold me.”
With her head held high, she left the drawing room and spoke to two footmen standing outside the doors. “Please escort this man from the premises.”
Before she broke down, she lifted her skirts, hurried up two flights of stairs and down the corridor, and entered her chambers.
She closed the door behind her and sank to the floor, pressing her back against the hard door, her knees drawn up as she wrapped her arms around them.
She let her tears fall. Now she understood what had truly happened that day to cause a rift between their families at Stanton Hall.
She had been wrong to think her mother had retreated to her rooms and refused to see anyone because Clarice was being sold to the highest bidder.
A part of her wanted to believe her mother had loved her enough for that to be the reason.
Deep down, Clarice knew now that the real reason was that her father had found out about her affair.
Had her mother loved the duke? How long had it been going on before her father discovered it?
Wait, hadn’t her father said it lasted for years?
Had Samuel’s mother known? Did Samuel know?
A little niggling feeling inside her wondered if her father told the truth. Was there any way of discovering what had happened with both her mother and Samuel’s father dead? Perhaps some of the servants knew. It was something to consider looking into.
The change in her father back then now made complete sense.
He was already a broken man and in debt, at risk of losing any properties and possessions not entailed.
Then he discovered his best friend for most of his life was having an affair with his wife—or at least believed it to be so.
Clarice rested her cheek on her knees. Did the truth about Stanton and his traitorous behavior hurt her father more, or was it that his wife had cheated?
Clarice would bet anything that Stanton’s betrayal had hurt her father more.
Her father always spoke of loving her mother.
But did he really? She didn’t think he was capable of loving anyone but himself.
Tears kept flowing as she remembered the day of her wedding when she last saw her mother.
She had been a shell of her once vibrant, beautiful self.
Was that what happened when someone loses a loved one, even by removal rather than death?
When Clarice lost Samuel seven years ago, she was young and strong.
Chesterfield was strong, but old, and it had only been a matter of time before he died—that knowledge had kept her going.
But her mother seemed to have given up, seemed not to want to live anymore.
Clarice unwrapped and rewrapped her arms around her legs, shivering.
Her mother had died alone in her chambers without love.
How tragically sad. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she murmured.
“I wish I could have consoled you somehow.”
After a spell, with her skirts in disarray and twisted around her legs, she struggled to stand and rang for Mrs. Shelley.
“My lady,” she gasped upon seeing her appearance. “Are you unwell? Can I get you something? I heard your father visited. Did he cause this?”
Fighting back the sudden urge to laugh, she replied, “Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Shelly, but I am well. I needed a good cry after my father’s visit.
But don’t worry, I told Williamson never to let him step foot in this house again.
” She cleared her throat. “Meanwhile, can you tell the cook that I’m having a visitor for dinner?
She need not make anything fancy. The Duke of Stanton, if I recall, will eat practically anything. ”
Mrs. Shelley’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened when she said the Duke of Stanton, but she didn’t comment.
“Before you leave, can you help me out of this dress? I want to rest a bit.”
Once undressed down to her chemise, Clarice climbed beneath the coverlet and quickly fell asleep dreaming of Samuel.