“A gentleman must behave well, too, mustn’t he? Especially a married one. Perhaps you’ll be a good influence.”
To her horror, she laughed and he immediately grinned at her response. Lord, but he was handsome when he did so and there wasan odd flare of pride in her chest that she had surprised and delighted him in this way.
She stepped back. “Of course, when we’re married all I bring to the union will be yours, my lord. The book included.”
“Excellent.” He set the manual down and walked to the door. There he hesitated and she watched as his gaze fluttered over her. He licked his lips and then swallowed hard before he said, “Goodnight, Clarissa.”
“Goodnight, Roderick.”
He left her room and shut the door behind himself. She stared at the barrier between them, feeling almost empty. As if something had been left undone between them. What, she couldn’t say.
Well, she supposed she could. He’d said he desired her, asked if she’d liked kissing him. Maybe there was a small, very small, part of her that had assumed he would repeat the action. That he would kiss her.
Had she wanted him to kiss her? Propriety be damned? She wished she could say no. And yet that wasn’t the truth. So she had to push that down and focus on the promise she’d made to him. If she wanted this marriage to work, she would have to do all in her power to give him no reason to be sorry he’d made it.
Aside from the tragic thought that he’d given up all his dreams of true love for their mistake. And that was something she didn’t think she’d ever forget.
CHAPTER 11
The rest of the country party had flown by in a blur. Just as Roderick had suspected they would, Clarissa’s parents hadn’t allowed for him to spend time alone with her. They were always chaperoned by one or the other of them. Always kept from putting their heads together. He supposed that was to keep them from conspiring to break the engagement.
Now they were back in London, he’d arranged for the special license two days before and tomorrow was the wedding. This was almost over. Everything he’d built his hopes and dreams around was almost over.
He bent his head and stared at the desk in his study, wishing a hole would open up and he could tumble down into it and escape the future. Not because of Clarissa—she was as much a victim as he was—but because he no longer had any agency over what would happen next.
There was a knock at the study door and he straightened. “Enter.”
His butler, Stevenson, stepped into the room. “I beg your pardon, my lord. The Earls of Ramsbury and Delacourt have arrived, along with Viscount Lockhart.”
Roderick blinked and rose. “Oh. Was I expecting them and forgot amidst the rush?”
“Not that you told me. Would you like me to tell them you aren’t in residence?”
“No,” Roderick said with a shake of his head. “I’ll join them. You needn’t announce me, I know the staff is very busy preparing for the wedding gathering tomorrow and the preparation of the new countess’s chamber. Where are they?”
“The blue parlor, my lord.” Stevenson bowed his way out and Roderick followed a moment later, smoothing his jacket as he made his way to the parlor in question. He stepped inside to find the three men pouring themselves drinks. Ramsbury lifted the bottle of whisky with a grin as he entered.
“One for the groom, as well?” he asked.
Roderick flinched a little at the word, but nodded. “Er, yes. Good evening, Ramsbury. George.” The two men nodded in acknowledgment. He looked at the third, the Earl of Delacourt. Another old friend from school. “And Delacourt. I haven’t seen you since your marriage. How are you?”
Delacourt inclined his head. “Devastatingly happy, had no idea a person could be so. Though the transition is still awkward.”
Roderick frowned. Delacourt’s new countess had once been known as Lady Charlotte, daughter of a marquess. She had disappeared right after her father’s death and the mystery had kept Society whispering for years. Her reappearance, then swift marriage to Delacourt along with the hanging her father’s heir for a litany of crimes, had caused those whispers to grow ever higher. The pair were often accepted, but just as likely to be shunned by those in Society.
He thought of Clarissa and her death-locked grip on propriety. This was why, after all. It was easy to lose standing for things far less impactful than the dramas that had felled Delacourt and his wife.
Not that the man looked felled. He almost glowed with happiness.
“And now you shall join our little club,” Delacourt said, and slungand arm around Roderick’s shoulders. “George, you must find a bride soon, as well.”
George wrinkled his nose. “Great God, no. I shall not marry until I’m in my sixties, and then only to produce the damned heir my eventual title demands.”
The others laughed. Ramsbury nudged Delacourt as he handed over the drink. “Sounds familiar.”
“We came here for Kirkwood,” George said. “Not to harass me.”
“For me?” Roderick said and sipped his drink.
