Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
S upper had gone as well as one could expect with everyone staring and judging. Afterward Roderick stood amongst the gentlemen, sipping a not particularly good port and watching some of the others play billiards. His now-future father-in-law stood across the room, grinning like a fool at some of the other gentlemen, accepting congratulations like he’d just won a prize.
Roderick’s stomach turned.
“You look like you could use a stronger drink,” the Earl of Ramsbury said as he stepped up beside him. “Or at least one of better quality.”
Roderick managed a weak smile. He and Ramsbury had always been friendly. He liked the other earl, with his easy companionship and strong sense of loyalty. He was someone Roderick could be at least partially honest with.
“After Lockhart went on and on about how good the port was, it’s evident he poured something far cheaper into an old bottle.” Roderick sighed. “All smoke and mirrors, it seems.”
Rather like the upcoming marriage. Both Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart had been going on and on about it every time he caught a snippet of their conversation. Bragging and lying and pretending that this was something wonderful when it was really a trap they’d laid.
“Marianne is fond of Clarissa,” Ramsbury said carefully. “And my wife has impeccable taste.”
Roderick nodded slowly. “She is everything a lady should be,” he said and thought of her on the terrace with her pained expression.
“Would it help to talk about it?” Ramsbury asked. “We could step outside for a cigar and likely escape the rest.”
“It’s a kind offer,” Roderick said with a smile for his friend. “And perhaps later I’ll take you up on it. But right now I think I prefer brooding over it all.”
Ramsbury nodded. “I understand.”
“No, you couldn’t. I’ve seen you with Lady Ramsbury. You two are clearly well matched.”
Ramsbury’s face lit up. “We are. But I think others might not have seen it as possible at the beginning. She was a wallflower, and while I think Clarissa isn’t quite that, she is certainly not what one would expect a man like you to match with.”
“Yes, she’s very concerned with what Society thinks is right. I, on the other hand, have never given a damn.” Roderick shrugged.
“And perhaps that will work in your favor. She’ll soften your edges, you’ll make her braver to be herself.” Ramsbury squeezed his shoulder. “If you want to be happy, you can be, I think.”
Happy. Oh yes, Roderick wanted to be happy. He’d always pictured what that happiness would entail and saw it as himself head over heels in love with his wife. With an instant attachment that made it clear his choice was correct.
Luckily he didn’t have to say anything in response. Mr. Lockhart made the announcement that the gentlemen would rejoin the ladies and they all filed out. Ramsbury stepped away to speak to another gentleman and Roderick filtered himself to the end of the line of men so he could have a moment alone.
When they stepped into the parlor where the women had gathered for sherry and whatever gossip they had shared, Roderick watched Ramsbury. The earl immediately found his wife and the way her smile blossomed when he approached her was almost blinding in its power. He slipped an arm around her waist, leaned in to say something close to her ear. She blushed a little and laughed, her hand coming up to his chest briefly.
Roderick turned his face. Yes, that was what he’d always pictured. That easy affection, brought on by a powerful love that flowed beneath everything. And yet when he found Clarissa at the window, when their eyes met, it was different. Yes, for a moment he had a flash of her upturned face, her trembling lips before he kissed her. Then she turned her head, broke the contact of their gaze.
This was not a love match. It hurt, but he had to accept that. And he had to determine, with her, what that meant for the life they would share. The sooner the better.
C larissa’s body felt bruised, like she’d been in a fight all night, rather than simply sharing supper with people she would call friends and acquaintances. But she’d had to hold herself so straight, had to keep her expression calm when they congratulated her on her upcoming nuptials, had to pretend not to understand when they pried about how this had all happened so swiftly. It had been an exercise in restraint that felt harder and harder to perform. Her back hurt, her arms hurt, her head hurt from all of it.
At last, though, she was alone in her chamber, in her nightrail and dressing gown, her hair down around her shoulders. Any nosy friends who had descended on her at the end of the evening as she tried to simply find her bed were gone. Her maid was gone. Her mother was, blessedly, gone. She could remove all her masks now and simply be .
And just as she had that thought there was a knock on her chamber door. Her shoulders hunched and she let out a long sigh. Who was coming to bother her now?
She trudged to the door and opened it. To her shock, it was Roderick there waiting for her. Her breath became nonexistent as she looked him up and down. He had stripped out of his jacket and rolled his sleeves to his elbows. She stared at the definition of his forearms for a moment, an odd tingle in her body at the sight of his bare skin. She wasn’t meant to see that and yet she couldn’t look away.
She did just that and jerked her gaze to his face instead. Unfortunately it offered her no respite from inappropriate thoughts. With the dim light from the hallway behind him, he was mostly shadow. Like a fallen angel here to offer temptation. To what, she wasn’t certain. But it didn’t feel proper.
It was in that moment she realized she was in her dressing gown and tugged it tighter around herself. “You—you shouldn’t be here.”
He inclined his head. “Likely not. But you and I need to have a conversation, preferably before the wedding that is barreling down upon us, and I doubt we’ll be left alone for any length of time until then.”
She pursed her lips. He wasn’t wrong on either account. Her parents would swoop in with all the protection in the world now to ensure this union happened. “But this is my room. My bedchamber.”
“I’m well aware.” His voice was suddenly lower, smokier and a ripple went up her spine at the change.
She chose to ignore that feeling even though her cheeks flamed. “Propriety?—”
He sighed. “Yes, yes, I know. Propriety. Please let me come in. We’re more likely to be caught if I’m standing in the hallway. I promise I have no intention of violating the rules of propriety beyond this one.”
Could she trust that? She thought of how he’d put himself between her and the marquess earlier in the day. How gentle he’d been when the machinations of her parents had been revealed. He might be a great many things, but she didn’t think Roderick was the kind to force what wasn’t invited.
She stepped back and let him into the room. He looked around and her blush deepened, so she closed the door and then hustled past him. Anything to keep her back to him so she wouldn’t have to watch him analyze her life through her knickknacks and pictures and books. She could still feel him watching her, though. Almost like he was an inferno at her back.
“I believe in love,” he said.
She staggered to face him then, her mouth dropped open in the shock she couldn’t hide. “What?”
His face looked pained. “My mother and father, they truly loved each other. And they liked each other. I think they were each other’s best friend.”
Clarissa shivered at the thought of such a thing. She’d certainly not been raised in that manner. Her parents were scarcely anything to each other. In fact, she sometimes thought they might hate each other at the core of it. But the kind of union Roderick described was bewitching. The stuff of novels, not real life. And yet he said he believed in it.
“How—how did they meet?” she asked, and was surprised that her voice trembled.
His wobbly smile tugged something in her chest. “She entered an assembly in Bath and their eyes met and that was the end for them both. Love at first sight. Amongst their friends, the story was legendary. Told in either hushed tones or with rolled eyes. Either way, their connection was immediate and powerful and they were married within months.”
She nodded. “I see.”
But she didn’t see. She’d never imagined such an out-of-control notion before. That one could be stricken by emotion like one was by an illness or an accident.
“I always knew I’d have the same,” he continued, and rubbed a hand through his hair. It made the locks stand up here and there, the dishabille he didn’t seem to care about so opposite to her own attention to every detail of her dress, hair and way she held herself.
“I see,” she repeated softly, for he seemed to be waiting for an answer .
“Yes, I’ve been what some might call a rake,” he admitted. “I haven’t lived as a monk, but that wasn’t why I haven’t married yet. I simply knew that the moment the right woman came along, I would feel an immediate pull to her. A bolt from above that would practically light her from the heavens and let me know she was the one .”
She realized then what he was saying. Certainly he hadn’t felt such a thing with her. They’d barely tolerated each other for days and only declared a truce only for the sake of others. There had been nothing between them until he kissed her so unexpectedly in the library.
“You’ve lost that,” she whispered, and the guilt that accompanied the words was almost unbearable. She moved to her chair before the fire and settled into it to keep her trembling legs from being obvious.
He shifted. “I intended to be honest when I came to you, but I don’t wish to be cruel. Still, yes. I’ve lost the possibility of such a marriage now.”
“I am sorry, my lord.” She shook her head. “God, you will despise me eventually, won’t you?”
“That’s the last thing I want, Clarissa.” He moved to take the chair that was beside her own and sat on the edge so that his knees were close to hers. “I don’t want to hate you or have you hate me.”
She examined his face in the firelight. He looked so earnest in this moment. Like he was far more than he pretended to be, certainly more than she’d judged him to be on first sight. “I don’t want that either.”
“Good. Is that our first agreement?” He smiled a little.
She did the same, despite herself. “ Othello ,” she reminded him.
“Oh yes. We couldn’t forget Othello . Our second agreement then. We’re on our way to a happy future, I’m sure.” His teasing expression faded. “This will all be rushed. Your parents pushed the idea of the special license to so many people that there will be no choice but for me to obtain one. We’ll be back in London within the week and probably married a few days after that.”
Her vision swam and she gripped the armrest of the chair with all her might. “Yes,” she squeaked out .
His brow wrinkled and his hand came to cover the one on the armrest. When he touched her, she relaxed just a fraction and her breathing slowed a little. “When it’s over, though, then it will just be you and me. So we’ll get to decide what a marriage between us will look like.”
She worried her lip. “What do you suggest?”
“Perhaps we could be friends.”
Friends. With this man. Truth be told, she did often see his charms. And he was intelligent. He could be kind. Not to mention that in her most secret admissions, things she’d never say out loud, she had very much liked kissing him. The idea of being his friend was not repugnant.
“I would like to be your friend.”
He leaned closer again and the half-smile was back, along with the wicked twinkle to his eye. “Even though you think me a scoundrel, Miss Lockhart?”
“Today you weren’t a scoundrel at all,” she said, refusing to tease back about so serious a subject. “Under the most trying of circumstances, you’ve been nothing but gentlemanly.”
He arched a brow. “Except when I kissed you in the library.”
“Yes, thoroughly,” she admitted with a blush.
He chuckled. “I could have been more thorough.”
She turned her face because she didn’t really understand what he meant. He’d touched his tongue to hers, how could one be more thorough than that?
“Did you like it?” he asked.
She refused to look at him and instead picked at a loose thread on the upholstery of the chair. “The kiss? It is unseemly to say.”
“Propriety tells you that?”
She did glance at him then, trying to see if he was mocking her. He had a serious expression, though, so she nodded.
“There is only us here. I’m asking for honesty between us. Did you like it?”
When he’d covered her hand earlier, it had calmed her, but now the riotous emotions were back, her breath was short again. He was treading into waters that felt very dangerous and yet there was a thrill in her chest, not fear. Why did she feel that?
“I…I did,” she admitted, and then lifted her hands to cover her burning cheeks.
He smiled again. “There is the physical part of marriage, Clarissa. I don’t know if your mother has spoken to you about it yet as you haven’t been engaged before. But…I do want you. Desire you.”
She blinked. “I’m not certain what that means.”
He made a little strangled sound in his throat and then got up to pace away from her. “Well, we’ll work that out. We’ll be friends and I hope lovers. Perhaps that will be enough in the end. I do promise you that I’ll never harm you or control you. I’ll never make you afraid.”
She stared up at him, declaring this vow that felt as powerful as whatever one they’d take in a church so soon. She felt compelled to make one in return. “And I-I’ll never embarrass you. I’ll do everything to make my duties as countess pleasing to you. To always elevate your legacy with my behavior.”
His brow wrinkled a little, but he nodded. “I believe you.”
He had moved to stand near her dressing table and he glanced down. She realized he had discovered her copy of The Mirror of the Graces and she rose, blushing as he lifted the book and looked at it, thumbing through the pages.
“A comportment manual?” he said, glancing up at her.
“Yes. My mother gave it to me for my birthday. I’ve been making a study of it the last few months.”
He nodded. “I see. Perhaps once we’re wed, you’ll allow me to review it.”
“Why would you wish to?”
“A gentleman must behave well, too, mustn’t he? Especially a married one. Perhaps you’ll be a good influence.”
To her horror, she laughed and he immediately grinned at her response. Lord, but he was handsome when he did so and there was an odd flare of pride in her chest that she had surprised and delighted him in this way.
She stepped back. “Of course, when we’re married all I bring to the union will be yours, my lord. The book included.”
“Excellent.” He set the manual down and walked to the door. There he hesitated and she watched as his gaze fluttered over her. He licked his lips and then swallowed hard before he said, “Goodnight, Clarissa.”
“Goodnight, Roderick.”
He left her room and shut the door behind himself. She stared at the barrier between them, feeling almost empty. As if something had been left undone between them. What, she couldn’t say.
Well, she supposed she could. He’d said he desired her, asked if she’d liked kissing him. Maybe there was a small, very small, part of her that had assumed he would repeat the action. That he would kiss her.
Had she wanted him to kiss her? Propriety be damned? She wished she could say no. And yet that wasn’t the truth. So she had to push that down and focus on the promise she’d made to him. If she wanted this marriage to work, she would have to do all in her power to give him no reason to be sorry he’d made it.
Aside from the tragic thought that he’d given up all his dreams of true love for their mistake. And that was something she didn’t think she’d ever forget.