How could they be so calm on such a momentous occasion? “I wonder if he’ll come see me or go talk with Papa first? It looks like he brought flowers. Ooh, I do so love flowers!”
Arthur lowered his paper with a frown. “Since when? Don’t they make you sneeze?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know that. And the fact that he brought them shows he cares. He’s putting in effort even though he needn’t. It’s very sweet of him, is it not?”
“It’s certainly a very good sign.” Mama gave her a little squeeze.
With his customary long-suffering sigh, Arthur set aside his paper. “Clary, I wish you wouldn’t go through with this mad scheme. I know Lord Effingham broke your heart, but that doesn’t mean you should throw your life away with a stranger picked by the proprietress of a gambling establishment. Surely, there’s a safer way to pick a husband.”
“Arthur,” Mama warned.
Clarissa stiffened. “I am quite satisfied with Lord Whitcomb. Thank you very much. And you know very well I’ve always had good fortune. Providence has brought him to me, and I won’t hear a word against him.”
“But Clary—”
“Besides, Papa knows him and says he’s an honorable man. What more do I need?”
“That’s correct. Your father and I have made discreet inquiries about him to assure ourselves—"
Their conversation was interrupted by the butler clearing his throat at the door. “Lord Whitcomb is here to see you, my lady. May I show him in?”
She hurriedly pinched her cheeks and smoothed her skirts, her heart fluttering with anticipation. “Yes, please, Greenfield. I’m ready to receive him.”
A few moments later, Greenfield ushered Lord Whitcomb into the room, unease written on every feature of his handsome face. “Good afternoon, Your Grace, My Lord, Lady Clarissa.”
He bowed stiffly to each of them in turn, clenching the flowers in a death grip.
She would have to rescue them before he wrang all the life from the lovely blooms. “Darling, I’m so happy you came! And you brought me such a lovely bouquet. I was just telling Arthur and Mama how much I love flowers.” She gently pried them from his fingers and brought them to her nose, breathing deep. “I…ah…ah…”Oh dear. “Achoo!”
Lord Whitcomb’s eyes went wide, and he pulled out a handkerchief. Their fingers brushed as he handed it to her, and her fingers tingled where they made contact. He squeezed his eyes shut with some unknown sentiment.
“Don’t mind her. Flowers always make her sneeze.” Arthur got to his feet and strode toward Lord Whitcomb, holding out his hand. “I’m her brother, Arthur.”
Oh bother. Arthur was such a wet blanket sometimes.
“My lord, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last. I served under your father, and he always spoke of you with greatpride. I’m grateful to have the chance to get to know you, though I know the circumstances are a bit…unusual.”
“We’re very glad to meet you too, my lord,” Mama said as the gentlemen shook hands. “My husband has told me wonderful things about you. We’re so happy to know that our Clarissa will have such an upright, honest, and well-respected husband. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and see if he’s ready to receive you.”
Mama wafted out of the room, grinning almost as much as Clarissa.
“Achoo!”Good heavens! If she didn’t put these flowers down quickly, she would turn into a puffy red nightmare. But they were such a lovely gift, and she didn’t want him to think her ungrateful.
Arthur shook his head and reached out for the bouquet. “I’ll take those. Let me find a servant to put them in water and put a bell jar over them so that you can enjoy them without all this commotion.” Heading for the door, he paused and turned. “I’ll only be gone for a moment, so behave yourselves or you’ll have me to answer to; just in case, I’m leaving the door open.”
Lord Whitcomb raised his hands and took several steps back from her. “I assure you, my lord, my intentions toward your sister are nothing but honorable.”
It was adorable how protective Arthur was. She wanted to go hug him for it, but she knew how mortified he’d be if she did.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Good.” With one last warning glance between them, he disappeared into the hall.
“Won’t you have a seat?” She guided him to a wingback at a discreet distance from the settee where she settled herself. It was tempting to sidle up to him, stroke his cheek, and loosen his cravat, but that would have sent the poor man running to the far ends of the globe.
He waited for her to sit before taking his own seat. “Lady Clarissa, my apologies for the flowers. I had no idea they would have such an ill-effect. I was merely trying to be courteous.”
What fiddle-faddle! He was being romantic whether he wanted to admit it or not. “It was a lovely gesture, and they smelled divine, even if they did make me sneeze.”
With a furrowed brow, he looked at her and shook his head. “I can’t fathom why you would bury your face in them like that if you knew what would happen.”
