Chapter 12
Something was different about Clarissa tonight.
Kit couldn't pinpoint what it was at first. She was wearing a gown he hadn't seen before, ivory with some sort of blue detail. There was a matching ribbon in her hair and her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the ballroom as she spoke with Estella.
But it wasn't the gown or the ribbon or the flush that struck him as different. It was the smile she wore.
It was the same one he'd come to recognize from those moments when others weren't watching. In short, it was her real smile, easy and unguarded.
She wore it now as she spoke animatedly with Estella. Whatever they were discussing, it required a great deal of hand movements from Clarissa, and it had Estella's head falling back with laughter.
Kit found himself grinning as well even though he couldn't hear a word of it.
That smile, though. It was gorgeous. He always loved catching glimpses of it. Of course, he preferred when he was the recipient, and yet… He found it was just as beautiful when he spied it from across the room.
That smile made him think of the coaching inn girl.
He crossed the room to greet her, already composing something suitably ridiculous about moonlight and rose petals. But when he reached her and she turned that smile on him, what came out was, "You look lovely."
Clarissa's brows rose. "That's it? No comparisons to the stars in the heavens? Or some flower reference, perhaps?"
"The evening is young," he said. "I'm pacing myself."
She laughed. And Kit felt something turn over in his chest with a heavy thud.
The only problem was—he wasn't the only one who'd noticed the change in her. As the evening wore on, Kit became aware that his weren't the only eyes following Clarissa around the ballroom.
There were several gentlemen tracking her progress across the room as surely as a hunter stalks its prey.
And that was good, he reminded himself. That was the point.
Three weeks of Kit's public devotion had done its work. The whispers had shifted. The invitations had multiplied. And now the ton, having been told by Kit's attention that Clarissa was worth noticing, had started to notice her for themselves.
Which was the plan. He took a drink and reminded himself of that. It was exactly what he'd been paid to accomplish.
It was Pemberton's second son who approached first. He was a pleasant-faced young man who asked Clarissa about her family's estate with what appeared to be genuine interest. She answered him warmly.
Too warmly, Kit thought, though he couldn't have explained what the correct temperature would have been.
Then it was Lord Hartley, a man of modest fortune and good reputation, who engaged her in a conversation about horticulture that lasted through the entire second set.
Kit had walked away, so he wasn't entirely certain what turn the conversation took, only that the topic made Clarissa's face light up and her hands got involved.
Which meant she was enjoying the conversation enough to forget her composure. And whatever it was she was saying, Hartley leaned in, listening with apparent interest.
Lord Alderton's voice came from beside him. "Out of curiosity, has Lord Hartley offended you in some way?"
Kit blinked in surprise to find Clarissa's brother there. "Pardon?"
Alderton's expression was one of a man trying not to show how amused he was. And he was failing.
Kit frowned. "What are you implying?"
"I'm not implying anything," Alderton said, laughter clear in his voice. "Just curious as to why you're glaring at the man as though he'd just called you out for a duel."
"I was not glaring," he lied.
Alderton followed his gaze to where Clarissa and Hartley were still deep in conversation. "It's working well, you know. This scheme of yours."
"I wouldn't say it was my scheme." He forced a smile. "I'm merely following my aunt's orders."
"Mmm." Alderton's murmur of agreement held an edge of disbelief. "You've gone above and beyond, by the looks of it. My sister has her pick of suitors."
"That was the plan," Kit said. His smile faded as he watched Lord Hartley lean in even farther, his eyes lit up with adoration as he listened to Clarissa speak. "I'm pleased it worked so well."
Alderton turned to him. "You don't sound particularly pleased."
"I'm thrilled." Kit watched Hartley say something that made Clarissa laugh. It wasn't a real laugh, more like a polite giggle. And yet…
He hated it. He hated that another man made her laugh.
He hated it with such intensity, it nearly knocked him sideways.
But Alderton was watching him. So Kit said what he knew he ought. "This is what we wanted."
Alderton took a sip of his drink and said nothing, which was somehow worse than if he'd argued.
But this was good news, he told himself. Clarissa was shining. Other men were seeing what he'd seen—the warmth, the honesty. And they were charmed. Just as he'd intended.
Just as he'd been.
He'd claimed the supper dance, and when he took her hand for the set, her fingers were warm through her gloves and she was smiling so big, it made his chest ache.
"I believe it's official." He tugged her a little closer. "You, my dear Lady Clarissa…are a success."
Her eyes sparkled. "I've danced four times tonight. Four different men."
"I know." He'd counted. "Like I said. A success."
She laughed as if he was joking, but he wasn't. He wasn't sure she realized yet just how successful their ruse had been.
"Lord Hartley has been to India." Her comment cut into his thoughts and he had to blink to focus on her.
"Pardon?"
"India. He was there, and do you know what he saw?"
"I can't imagine," he said.
Her eyes were wide with delight. She clearly couldn't wait to tell him. And when she did tell him about the food and the animals—in detail, and with a flurry of hand movements—he had to stifle a sound that threatened to escape. He couldn't say if it had been a laugh or a groan.
Goodness, but she was precious. He never knew what she was going to say next.
He suspected she rarely knew either. And he loved that she was regaling him now with all the sights some stuffy lord had seen on his travels. He truly did.
He just wished that she wasn't so very delighted by another man's stories. Was that so wrong? Was it selfish of him to want her to be entertained by him and him alone?
Yes. It very likely was the height of selfishness.
"Did you enjoy dancing with him?" The words came out suddenly, and he realized he'd interrupted her story.
Something in his tone must have betrayed him, because her brow creased. "He was pleasant."
"Oh?" He tried to keep his voice mild. Difficult to do when an odd and completely unwarranted anger had his heart hammering.
"Yes. He seemed pleasant and kind. John tells me he's considered a respectable, well-liked gentleman." She tilted her head. "Why?"
"No reason," he said. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."
She studied him with those honest dark eyes that never let him get away with anything. Then she smiled. "I am. Thanks to you."
The music carried them through the rest of the dance. Kit held her hand and smiled and told himself the tightness in his chest was nothing to be concerned about.
It meant nothing. Nothing at all.
The final notes faded and they bowed to each other along with the rest of the set. Before Clarissa could drift back toward Estella or Lord Hartley and his tales of India, Kit touched her elbow. "Walk with me?"
She gave him a curious look. "Where?"
"I saw doors to a terrace." He nodded toward the far end of the ballroom. "It's warm in here, don't you think?"
Her smile made his heart leap. "It is indeed. Fresh air sounds lovely."
He led her toward the terrace. Fresh air would likely help his muddled state. But more than that…
He simply didn't want to share her with the ballroom for another minute.
The night air was cool after the ballroom's heat, and the garden beyond was lit with lanterns. There were others out here, couples and a small group of ladies laughing as they whispered.
But no one paid them any mind as they stood at the stone balustrade, close enough that her sleeve brushed his coat. The noise of the ballroom was muffled out here, and for the first time all night, Kit felt like he could actually breathe.
Clarissa tilted her face up to the sky. "You've been quiet this evening."
"Have I?" Yes, he supposed he hadn't been talking like usual. Or acting like himself at all, really.
It wasn't like him to be petty and jealous over a lady's time and attention. But at some point over the past few weeks, he'd grown accustomed to being by her side. To being the one she talked to and laughed with and smiled at, and—
"Something is bothering you," she said.
When he just stared at her, too dumbstruck by her candor to respond, she hurried on.
"It's all right if you don't want to talk about it.
Of course it is. I just want you to know that you can— But that is, I don't expect you to, it's just—" She cut herself off abruptly and gave him a chagrined little smile. "I thought you'd be happy."
"I am happy." He said it a little too quickly.
It was such a boldfaced lie, he wasn't even certain why he'd tried. Nothing about his tone or demeanor matched the words, and in truth, he hadn't even tried.
She tilted her head to the side. "You don't look happy."
"And should I be particularly pleased this evening?" His voice was laced with amusement and his lips curved up in a droll smile. "Must I be brimming over with joy just because we're at a festive party?"
But Clarissa saw right through him. "No," she said slowly. "But I thought you would be. After all, you've earned your pay, Kit. The assignment is nearly done. I'd think you'd be relieved to finish it."
There it was. Delivered lightly, with a small smile. But her eyes were serious.
If he didn't know better, he'd say it was a challenge.
And heaven help him if he didn't feel the weight of it bearing down on him, crushing him where he stood.
Did she want him to argue? That was what he'd wanted. To complete the assignment, get the funds he needed, keep his family's appearance intact, and—
And then what? Just walk away?
The thought was oddly terrifying. Just imagining handing Clarissa over to some other man and turning away. Where would he go? What would he do?
All of his former plans—the travel and the parties and the bachelor lifestyle—were as appealing as a trek across a desert.
His breathing grew shallow as he tried to figure out how to answer.
She was giving him an out. He could hear it in the careful way she'd chosen the words. She was reminding them both of the terms. Drawing the line back where it belonged.
And underneath all of it, a question she wasn't quite asking but was there in the seriousness of her gaze. Is that all this is?
She wanted an answer that he didn't have. Or…no. That was cowardice talking.
He knew what he wanted to say, but it wasn't his right. And he hadn't even thought it through.
And so he found himself filling the silence by repeating her words. "You thought I'd be relieved?"
"Yes." Her smile didn't waver. "You'll be free of me. You can go back to being charmingly irresponsible and I can—" She waved a hand. "Choose my sensible husband."
She said it so breezily. But she'd never been a terribly good actress, and right now he saw right through her performance.
Kit looked at her. Her eyes were dark and steady and waiting for him to say the right thing.
The problem was, he had no idea what that was.
Some part of him knew he should smile and agree. Yes, very relieved.
He could bow out gracefully and collect his fee. He could walk away. That was the arrangement. That was what she'd signed up for. No harm done if he turned and ran.
And that was what he did, did he not? He kept moving. Never staying in one place for too long.
Perhaps he'd inherited the tendency to run from his mother, who'd born an heir and then never looked back. Last he'd heard she was traveling the continent with her horde of friends. Living the life of a well-to-do duchess without the constraints that came with a family.
That was the life he'd chosen for himself as well. Though in his plan, he'd leave no child behind to be heartbroken and lonely in his absence.
And now…
What? Was he really rethinking all that just because a beautiful woman with a gorgeous smile was gazing up at him with serious dark eyes and a hopeful smile?
He swallowed hard as he realized that…yes.
Yes, that was exactly what he was doing.
Her brows drew together in concern at his long silence. "Kit? Are you— Did I—"
"Clarissa." His voice came out lower and gruffer than he'd ever heard it.
She went still. "Yes?"
He shifted forward, turning his back to the others nearby. "What if I—"
He stopped. Because he didn't know how to finish that sentence. What if I don't want it to be over? What if the assignment stopped being an assignment? What if I—
"Lady Clarissa!" The booming voice came from behind them.
For a moment, she didn't react, and neither did he.
But then Lord Hartley's voice grew closer and impossible to ignore. "Lady Clarissa, there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you."