“Scandal, to be sure.”
“You do not think he seduc?—”
Clara turned.The fans snapped shut.
“Ladies,” she said sweetly.“Forgive me, but I could not help overhearing.”
Both women looked to Crispin for rescue.He offered none.His gaze remained level, unreadable, but inside, his thoughts whirled.He had long since learned to let barbs pass without defense, yet something in Clara’s tone, her steadiness, shook something loose inside him.
“I do hope you will keep your opinions to yourselves.If you must trade in gossip, may I suggest a more private setting?”
The lead matron paled.“I—I meant nothing by it?—”
Clara’s smile turned razor sharp.“I am sure.But children might overhear.And we would not want them believing such delightful untruths.”
She turned to the second matron.“Do you not agree, Lady Fenwick?”
The woman nodded.
“Splendid.I shall rest easy knowing my betrothed’s reputation is in such capable hands.”
She rejoined Crispin, calm as ever.The matrons wilted in her wake.
He glanced sideways, an amused grin tilting his lips.A flicker of something unfamiliar stirred in his chest, not pride or amusement—well, perhaps a bit of both—but more importantly the uneasy thrum of being protected.It left him oddly exposed.“You defended me.Why?”
She hesitated.“Because I do not believe half of what they say about you.”
“Which half?”He narrowed his eyes in scepticism.
“The part that says you are incapable of loyalty.Or kindness.Or responsibility.I think you are.I think you are just afraid to show it.You are no devil.”
He stared at her, at the strength in her posture.“You might be right.But I am very good at pretending.”
“So am I.”
Crispin guided her to a secluded gallery, slipping behind a curtain of wine-dark velvet.
Inside, the hush was nearly total.The scent of beeswax and old canvas hung heavy.Clara stepped forward, gazing at the gilded frames, her features softened in the amber light.
“Have you decided to abduct me after all?”she asked, catching him staring.
“No,” he said, letting the curtain fall.“I wanted a moment without an audience.”
“Lord Oakford.”
He stepped closer.“I do not require defending.”
“You would rather I let them tear you apart?”
“I am used to it.Sometimes even find humor in the tales.But you seemed to enjoy silencing them.Why?”
“Because I dislike inaccuracies.You are many things, but not everything they say.And I know what it is like when no one speaks the truth.I prefer to be the resistance.Besides, what sort of woman would I be if I did not defend the man I claim to be smitten with?”
He looked at her with something like awe.“You astonish me.”
She gave an impish grin.“I thought I was a bore.”
“You are the most amusing person in this entire place.Perhaps in all of London.”
