“Who—who is next?” she asked with false lightness for the group. “George, you look too wicked not to play. And Mrs. Vale, why don’t you partner with him?”
She wasn’t looking at Roderick as she gamely arranged the next round, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. She had told him she’dnever been kissed, so that meant he was the first man to have done so. She couldn’t have wanted that, not when their relationship was, so far, adversarial. And yetshehad been the one to meet his lips.
They were dizzying facts. Only because he didn’t understand them, though. The kiss didn’t warrant any further consideration. So he instead focused on his friend as George and Mrs. Vale laughingly took their place in the circle, nearly falling over as they tried to meet in the middle just as Roderick and Clarissa had.
But he didn’t feel fully connected to the others as many took turns, to varying degrees of success and failure. No, he felt like he’d been dunked in water or was standing outside of glass looking in. And the woman who had put him there still refused to meet his gaze as she stood by the fireplace, picking at a loose thread on her gown sleeve.
It was all very odd, indeed.
CHAPTER 6
Clarissa rose early the next morning. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d found sleep almost impossible to find all night and had finally surrendered herself at just after dawn. Now readied, she sat in the library, a place where she had always been able to find stability and calm, and stared at the book in her hand with unseeing eyes.
She couldn’t concentrate. No, all she could do was replay the moment in the parlor the night before when she had stared into the Earl of Kirkwood’s eyes and wanted, with brief but overwhelming power, for him to kiss her. Propriety and etiquette and rules about a lady’s comportment had all gone out the window and she had thwarted his attempt to save her from the embarrassment of the kiss.
How could one be so moved by such a brief thing? Such asmallthing? Just the barest brush of flesh. She’d had more intimate contact with a dance partner as they pivoted on the floor at an assembly. And yet that kiss was something that haunted her.
Even now she could still feel the brief, gentle press of him on her lips, which she touched with her fingertips. Shouldn’t they have changed color or felt hot? Anything to signify that she was different now, even if she didn’t wish to be?
“There you are!”
She glanced up with a start and found her mother at the library door. Violet Lockhart was still a lovely woman, with a curvaceous figure and thick dark hair the same color as Clarissa’s own. She always moved like a nervous butterfly, though. Always flitting, always darting, a ball of chaotic energy that could land upon anything, disrupt it and move on before anything could be righted.
Clarissa saw a certain expression on her mother’s face and nervousness immediately spread in her chest. “It is early, Mama,” she said, rising to properly greet her with a little bow of her head. “You are not normally out of bed at this hour.”
“How could one sleep when there is so much excitement to be celebrated?” Mrs. Lockhart asked and slipped the book from Clarissa’s fingers to toss it aside. Clarissa winced. It was a common theme in this house. What she wanted was not valued. But resenting that was against Societal expectation, so she had to shove it all down.
“The gathering is going well,” she said carefully. “I think you deserve to celebrate your triumph.”
“It could be better,” Mrs. Lockhart said with a wave of her hand. “I think you should do your hair differently, my dear. It’s so dull the way you’ve worn it the last few nights. And you had such a sour expression after the kissing game. You know men are only attracted to honey, so you mustn’teverput out vinegar.”
“Yes, Mama,” Clarissa said, and stifled a sigh. There seemed never to be an end to the unrequested advice and criticisms. Even when she succeeded, she failed.
“And yet, despite any little mistakes you’ve made, all is not lost.” Her mother grasped her hand. “I could have slapped your cousin in the face for bringing an uninvited guest to our soiree. I had to change all the chamber assignments at the last moment. But now I could kiss George instead, for the Earl of Kirkwood offers us a grand opportunity.”
Nausea rolled through Clarissa in a wave and she swallowed hard. “You and Father keep saying that despite how poorly matched we are. What—what do you mean?”
But she knew what her mother meant, even before Mrs. Lockhart said it. All her machinations were plain on her face. “Poorly matched? He is the finest catch here, Clarissa. You must see that. And I’ve watched you two together. The pall-mall game? When you danced at the ball? And then the kissing game last night? There is a marriage ripe for the making.”
Clarissa stood on shaky knees and stared at her mother. “Mama, you cannot be serious.”
Mrs. Lockhart appeared confused. “I’m perfectly serious, of course.”
Clarissa paced away, clenching and unclenching her hands as she tried to remain calm. Serene. Proper. All she wanted to do was scream. “If you have been watching as closely as you claim, you must also see that Kirkwood and Idonotsuit.”
“What do you mean?”
“We are entirely different. We don’tlikeeach other, even if we have managed to move into the realm of toleration.”
Her mother stared up at her without leaving her seat and she seemed entirely bewildered when she said, “What does that matter?”
Tears stung Clarissa’s eyes. That question about her needs, her emotions, her desires, had always hung in the air between her and her parents. But it had never been stated so plainly. Normally they at least pretended that what they desired was for her own good, her best interest, trying to convince her that she had truly wanted it all along.
But in her thrill at the idea of the match, Mrs. Lockhart made it clear that no one was actually considering Clarissa any more than they would a chess piece on a board. Easily sacrificed.
“He is a well-known rake,” Clarissa said, and wished she couldn’t hear the edge of pain in her voice. “Even the debutantes hear whispers of his long list of former lovers. That he once brought one of the most scarlet courtesans to a royal event. That he wagers at cards in shocking places. And yet you have insisted thatImust behaveproperly. You have plied me with book after book on the subject of comportment. How could you now wish to link me to such a man?”
“He has over ten thousand a year from his estates alone, a well-established title and links to every important family in the country,” her mother said as she got up at last. “Gracious, you are being silly and very selfish. Think of your parents and all the ways you could help us when you are countess. And a man is allowed to be a rake, my dear. Your behavior doesn’t have anything to do with his.” She smoothed her skirt and started for the door. “You are not getting younger, Clarissa. A match is imperative before all the bloom goes off the rose. Your father and I expect you to behave as if you understand that. Now I’m off to make sure the breakfast room is ready for our guests.”
