Chapter 16
Clarissa had rehearsed this.
She'd stood before her mirror that morning, and she'd practiced a brief speech. She would thank the duchess for her patronage. She would acknowledge Kit's efforts. And then she would explain, with composure and grace, that the arrangement had run its course.
And then she would leave.
No babbling. No questions. And most of all—no tears.
She lifted her chin as Kit entered and reminded herself for the twentieth time since she'd heard his footsteps in the foyer that she was in control.
At this moment she was New Clarissa at her finest.
Kit settled into the chair beside her. She could feel his eyes on her, and her heart seemed to pound harder in response. But she ignored that.
The way her heart raced whenever he was near meant nothing. Just as their time together had meant nothing. Nothing real, at least.
"Clarissa—" Kit began.
"Before we start." She set down her teacup carefully. "I'd like to say something."
Kit closed his mouth. The duchess watched her over her own cup with an unreadable expression.
"I want to thank you both," she said. "Your Grace, your patronage has been extraordinarily generous. And Kit—" She allowed herself to look at him, just long enough to deliver the line she'd practiced. "You've been very kind. I'm grateful for the time and effort you've invested."
Kit flinched. Good. Perhaps it was petty, but she was glad to see his discomfort.
"However." She continued with the same smile she'd practiced in the mirror. "I think we can all agree that the arrangement has run its course. The circumstances have…changed."
A torrent of questions and accusations built up inside her. She had to swallow hard to keep them at bay. Kit leaned forward as if he might interrupt, but she would not let him. With an upheld hand, she cut him off before he'd even begun.
Really. She'd rehearsed for hours, for heaven's sake. She would finish this.
"I think the best thing for everyone is to end it here." She said it with finality, and only then did she allow herself to exhale.
There. It was done. She'd done it.
But rather than satisfaction, she felt a swell of unwanted emotion. She bit the inside of her cheek with enough force to taste blood. She would not cry. Not in front of the duchess, and most definitely not in front of Kit.
"Clarissa." The duchess leaned forward, her tone more gentle than Clarissa had ever heard it. "We owe you—"
"I appreciate your concern, Your Grace." Clarissa was aware it was likely rude beyond measure to interrupt, but an apology was more than she could bear at the moment. Her smile held, and for that she was grateful. "But I think this is the right decision."
Kit shifted in his chair. "If you'd let me explain—"
"There's nothing to explain," she said. It was possible she'd exuded too much warmth there. Her smile was perhaps too broad. But better to be overly pleasant than to cry. That was what she told herself as she forced herself to meet Kit's gaze.
She instantly wished she hadn't, because her neatly strung together words suddenly fell into a jumble at the concern and regret in those sparkling blue eyes.
She swallowed hard. Where was she? Oh yes. "You have your situation, my lord. And while it is indeed regrettable that the ton is spreading gossip about us both, I have no doubt it was not your intention."
There. That was what she had to say. It cut off any apology before it could begin. She wet her lips. Now, to put an end to this once and for all. And then she could leave.
Then she could cry.
"I've known from the start that you had your reasons for taking part in this ruse. You never made any untrue claims or…or…"
Oh drat. She'd made the mistake of meeting his eyes again.
Where was she?
An awful silence fell.
Kit's gaze was oddly intense. Almost like he was searching her face for something. Perhaps some sign that she was angry, or…
Or perhaps heartbroken.
She lifted her chin and brightened her smile. He would find no such thing.
The duchess was also watching her. And goodness, between the two, she felt not unlike a butterfly pinned under glass for examination.
Resisting the urge to fidget in her seat, she instead reached for her teacup. As she sipped, she brought her mind back to the script she'd written.
It was a good one. Perhaps when she'd finished her story for Lucy, she'd try her hand as an amateur playwright.
The duchess said something about obligations and planning a response. Honestly, Clarissa missed most of it. She was too busy practicing her next line.
"I suspect there will be some more unpleasant gossip," Clarissa said. "And perhaps some pitying looks. But I assure you, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before."
"That doesn't make it acceptable," Kit said.
His voice was so rough, she looked over in surprise. There was no charming smile. No laughter.
It was odd to see him so serious. But then again, she hadn't known him long. And she clearly hadn't known him well.
His mistress had no doubt seen this side of him.
She banished the thought before it could take hold.
She could feel his eyes on her, but this time she resisted the urge to meet his stare.
"Lady Clarissa." The duchess's voice was careful. "I feel responsible for putting you in this position."
It was the sympathy in the other woman's tone that did it. It banished the threat of tears and had her shoulders squaring. "I appreciate your concern, Your Grace. But you are not to blame. And I am not as helpless as you both seem to think."
The words came out steady and clear, and she was proud of them. This was what she'd come here to say, and she would see this through.
"I may not be a diamond of the first water. Nor am I as polished as I perhaps ought to be." She pressed on before either could interrupt with some well-meaning reassurance. "But I am an earl's daughter, and I am fully capable of weathering some gossip."
She set the teacup down again. "I appreciate your kindness and concern, but I will take charge of my reputation and marriage prospects from here, if you please."
But it was not a request, and they all knew it.
No one tried to argue with her. If anything, Clarissa was fairly certain that there was a glow of admiration in the duchess's eyes.
Kit was staring at her with an expression she refused to name.
Even if she named it, she'd likely be wrong. It was time to admit that she was a truly abominable judge of men. She'd been fooled twice now. The first time had perhaps not been solely her fault. Edmund had made promises. She hadn't made that up.
But Kit…
Kit had told her no lies. He'd made her no promises. It was she who'd made the mistake. There was no one else to blame for her folly this time.
"I wish you both well." Clarissa stood and her smile felt very close to real. A bit sad, perhaps, but genuine. "Thank you for the tea, Your Grace. And for all you've done for me. I'm honored by your attention."
She turned to Kit. "And thank you, Kit. For everything. I mean that. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
She didn't wait for a response. Crossing the room, she opened the door and walked through it.
The butler was in the foyer. He offered her coat and she was oddly reminded of her first visit when he'd so awkwardly pretended not to hear Kit speaking about her like he was haggling over a pig at the market.
A huff of laughter escaped. How had she been so stupid? That very first day she'd known precisely what she was to him. And yet, a few charming smiles and a couple of hearty laughs, and she'd let herself be fooled.
"Your carriage, my lady?" he murmured.
She forced one last smile. "I'll walk, thank you."
Mrs. Lennox had sent a maid to escort her, and the maid was blessedly quiet. She wouldn't mind tagging along while Clarissa walked.
And she'd pretend not to notice if Clarissa cried.