Chapter 25
Eventually, after several lingering kisses, endless little touches, and countless whispers of endearment—they returned to reality.
Clarissa needed Kit's help to fix the mess he'd made of her hair, but once they were fit to be seen, they reentered the fray. And this time, Clarissa actually enjoyed herself.
She and Kit wove through the crowd side by side. And now, his hand on the small of her back warmed her all the way through.
"How are you holding up?" he asked once when they had a moment to themselves.
"I'm exhausted, but happy," she said. "Although, I'm fairly sure I've used up my entire supply of polite conversation for the evening."
"Nonsense," he said. "You used it up on Lord Hartley weeks ago."
Her laughter was just a little too loud, and they had to turn away from his aunt's exasperated stare when he started to snicker along with her.
And that was how they passed the next few hours. With smothered giggles and whispered asides.
Clarissa wasn't certain her parents noticed the change in her or her relationship with her intended.
But the duchess did. And she made more than a few pointed comments about how long they'd gone missing from their own engagement party, and how some propriety had to be maintained even with a couple that was set to marry.
Of course, she said all this with a wicked smile and a twinkle in her eye that spoke far more of happy approval than real censure. And so Clarissa just smiled up at Kit as he promised like a schoolboy to be on his best behavior.
And he was. For the most part. At least, until the last of the guests had departed. At that point, he absconded with her.
Well, he snuck her out into the back garden, along with several blankets and a picnic basket full of food they hadn't had the chance to eat while conversing with the guests.
"How is it?" Kit asked as he watched her sigh with contentment over one of the stolen pastries.
"Mmm. Divine." She let her head rest on his shoulder.
"You're divine." His arm around her waist tightened and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
"Your aunt is going to come looking for us, you know," Clarissa said. "At some point, I mean. I do believe she's being awfully charitable in allowing us this much freedom though. Of course, it helps that I was always meant to stay the night here."
"How fortunate for me," he teased. "As for my aunt, she is almost certainly watching from a window and feeling very smug about it."
She tilted her head up to see him. "Smug?"
"Mmm. She does enjoy being right and she may or may not have mentioned that my foul mood of late was because…" He straightened and adopted a ridiculously snooty tone. "Some young men are too foolish to see the gift that's been delivered right to their doorstep."
Clarissa laughed. "That sounded nothing like her." With a faux frown, she pulled away to look at him. "Hold on. Am I the gift in this scenario? I'm not sure I like that metaphor."
"Why not? You are a gift." He leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose. "To me and to everyone else who has the good fortune to know you."
Her feigned irritation faded into laughter. "You're incorrigible."
"And you love it," he shot back.
She nodded, pretending to think it over. "It's true. I do."
They shared a silly little grin. But when she shivered, he pressed his lips to her hair and held her tighter. "Are you cold?"
"A little." She didn't move. "But I don't want to go inside yet."
"Then here we shall stay," he said.
"Kit." She shifted so she could look at him. "We should talk. Properly."
"We should," he agreed. "But I'd like to establish something first."
"What's that?"
"The terms of your proposal. The original one. The business arrangement." His tone was light, but held her gaze. "I'd like to renegotiate."
Her lips twitched. "On what grounds?"
"On the grounds that I have no intention of being a sensible pairing.
" He took her hand. "I intend to be deeply, embarrassingly, inconveniently in love with my wife.
I plan to make a fool of myself on a regular basis, and to laugh so loudly at garden parties that Mrs. Lennox considers retiring as a chaperone altogether. "
She had to bite her lip to hold back a laugh. Or maybe some silly tears. She couldn't be certain. All she knew was she didn't trust herself to speak for fear all these welling emotions would come pouring out all at once.
"I also intend to be faithful," he continued. And now he was the one talking too quickly.
She rather liked it.
"I plan to be completely and boringly faithful." He said it as if it was a warning. Like she might argue.
Instead, she grinned through her tears and nodded happily as he continued.
"No mistresses. No scandals. Just you and me.
And eventually, God willing, a house full of children who talk too much and gesture wildly and care deeply and love openly because they'll take after their mother, and their mother is magnificent.
" He ended this with a decisive kiss on the tip of her nose.
A half laugh, half sob escaped as she pressed her forehead against his shoulder. "Those are very aggressive terms."
She felt his smile against her hair. "I'm a very aggressive negotiator."
She lifted her head. "I accept your terms."
He narrowed his eyes teasingly. "All of them?"
"Every last one." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "But I have a counteroffer."
He leaned back to study her. "I'm listening."
"No more secrets," she said. "I know why you kept the truth from me. I understand, Kit. But if we're going to do this, then I need to know that you're being honest with me. Even when it's hard."
He nodded. "No more secrets."
"And I need you to know something. I've been giving this a lot of thought…
" She straightened and caught a flicker of alarm in his eyes as he sensed that she was, indeed, serious.
"About Clementine and the baby, and what the ton believes…
" She wet her lips, oddly nervous, even though she knew what she had to say.
Because she had been giving this thought. All the while they were caught in conversations, her mind kept working away at the “mistress problem,” as she'd dubbed it. And the decision had been clear.
Kit shifted. "Clarissa—"
"I don't want you to tell the truth." She spit it out so quickly it came out like one word.
He blinked. "Pardon?"
"It's up to you, of course. It's your reputation and your father’s, but I heard you tell him that you'd let me decide, and—if that's not the case, then—"
"Clarissa."
She took a breath. "Yes?"
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "I meant what I said. I don't care what people say about me, but you've had more than your fair share of malicious gossip. No young lady should be asked to—"
"But you're not asking," she said. "I'm offering. I don't want to correct the current gossip. If you don't mind what they're saying, then I don't either. Because I know the truth. And that's more than enough."
He opened his mouth, and she could see his doubts and reasoning coming. She cut him off before he could start.
"Your father is powerful, and poor Clementine is not.
If the truth comes out publicly, it won't be your father who suffers.
It will be her. She'll be called a liar, or worse.
And the baby—" She shook her head. "Let the ton think what they want.
The gossip will fade. It always does. Something new will come along and Cast-Off Clarissa and her scandalous fiancé will be yesterday's entertainment. "
He stared at her. "You'd let them believe I fathered a child with another woman?"
"I'd let them believe whatever keeps a frightened girl and her baby safe." She met his eyes. "Wouldn't you?"
He didn't have to answer, because…yes. That was exactly what he'd been doing for months. But he didn't say anything in response. He just held her gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions she couldn't name.
And then he was silent for too long. Longer than Clarissa could stand, at least. "What? What is it? Why are you looking at me like that? If you don't agree—"
He cut her off with a kiss. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her thoroughly before pulling back to gaze at her. "You are lovely, Lady Clarissa Whitfield. Every time I think I know how wonderful you are, you surprise me again with your generosity and kindness."
She started to protest, but he cut her off with another kiss. She rather ruined the moment, however, when she started to laugh. "Is this how you always plan to silence me when I disagree?"
"Perhaps." He grinned. "Accept the compliment or accept the consequences."
"I knew you were a rogue," she laughed. "From the very first time I met you."
He scoffed. "You don't even remember the very first time we met."
Her lips parted in surprise as she remembered her own petty little lie. She clamped them shut again, but it was too late. He'd seen her guilt—or perhaps the blush that stole into her cheeks. "Er…about that. There's something I need to confess."
He arched his brows.
"About the coaching inn…" She looked away, but not before seeing his lips twitch with mirth.
He leaned in closer. "Yes?"
"When we met at the duchess's drawing room and you said 'It's you' and I said 'Have we met?' And—"
"I remember." There was laughter in his voice now. "You didn't recognize me."
She peeked up at him with a sheepish smile.
"I recognized you. Before you even opened your mouth.
" She was blushing furiously now, the words coming faster.
"I knew exactly who you were. I'd thought about you—about that day at the inn—more times than I care to admit, and when I saw you standing there with that ridiculous smile and that infuriating dimple, I knew. "
"You—" He was staring at her. "You lied?"
She winced. "I lied."
He leaned back to study her. "For months. You maintained—for months—that you had no memory of—"
"I was petty!" The words burst out of her.
"You'd just been haggling over me like a pig at the market, and I was humiliated, and you were standing there looking so pleased with yourself and that dimple was just—" She waved a hand at his face.
"It was right there, and I couldn't look at it without losing my composure, so I panicked and I lied and then I'd committed to it and I couldn't take it back. "
Kit stared at her. Then he started to laugh.
"Don't you dare laugh at me, Kit." Of course, her statement wasn't terribly effective since she'd also started to laugh. "You deserved it. You were negotiating my reputation like a business transaction."
"I was trying to help," he said.
She huffed. "You were trying to get paid."
He winced. "Both things can be true."
She shoved his shoulder. He caught her hand and kissed it.
"You remembered me," he said again, softer now.
"Of course I did." Her voice went quiet too.
"You were the last good thing that happened before everything went wrong.
That day at the inn—I was so happy, Kit.
I was on my way to tell Edmund and I was so sure everything was going to be perfect.
And then this dashing man appeared at my table with a dimple and a smile that should be illegal, and he couldn't even get a sentence out because I wouldn't stop talking. "
"You were magnificent," he said.
She rolled her eyes. "I was ridiculous."
"Both things can be true," he said again. So seriously it was impossible not to laugh.
She turned to face him. "When I saw you at the ball that first night, all I could think was that's the man from the happiest day of my life. And instead I'd become Cast-Off Clarissa, and I knew you'd find out what happened, and—"
"And you couldn't bear it," he finished.
"It was just so humiliating," she whispered. "So I pretended you didn't exist. It seemed easier than admitting that the girl at the coaching inn was gone."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "She wasn't gone."
She looked up.
"She was right there." He touched her cheek. "Every time you forgot to be all calm and composed, I saw her. And every time I marveled, because she was extraordinary."
Her eyes filled with tears. She didn't try to hide it.
"For the record," he said, his tone lightening.
"The man at the coaching inn spent the rest of the day thinking about the girl who hadn't asked his name.
He couldn't forget about her even if he tried.
And when he arrived in London and saw her across the ballroom, his first thought was—there she is. "
"Here I am," she said with a grin.
He kissed her forehead. "And this time I'm not letting you go."