Lord Marsden was truly mad if he expected this nonsense to work. Or that asking people to lie for him was the simplest action in the world. It was not, and so Clarissa wanted to tell him.
However, she had some dignity, even if he didn’t. What she had to say should be spoken in private. But if she didn’t speak her mind quickly, she was going to explode. “Peters, where is the nursery?” She actually sounded like a countess.
The man looked to Lord Marsden, who nodded for him to speak. “Mr. Gibson set it up in the Countess’s Chamber next to the earl’s apartments. He said that is traditionally where the nursery has been placed when a babe is small.”
“Really?” Lord Marsden said, as if he had had no idea.
Peters nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
“Hmm, well, I learn something every day.”
“And that iswhere?” Clarissa asked, her temper already tested far too much.
“This way,” Lord Marsden said and took her hand. He led her up the sweeping staircase. The carpet on the treads was so thick, Clarissa’s shoes sank into it. There wasn’t a worn spot to be seen.
Lord Marsden had the good sense to be quiet beside her, as if he knew she was ready to tear into him. He was not wrong.
A servant waited for them upstairs. He stood in front of the next to the last door at the end of the hall. “My lord,” the man said with a bow. “The nursery is ready.”
Lord Marsden nodded. “Very good. That didn’t take long.”
“Everything had been stored in the attic waiting for the happy day when there would be a child again at Belvoir,” the man said proudly. “Mr. Gibson had it all in hand.”
“Ah, well, before you show the room to us, Nelson, I must introduce you to my wife.”
Clarissa could not contain herself a second longer. In a low, dangerous under voice, she said, “I amnotyour wife.”
“She is pretending to be my wife,” Lord Marsden amended.
“I am notpretendingto be your wife,” Clarissa said.
“My lady, this is Nelson, my valet.” Lord Marsden spoke as if he was chiding a child to mind her manners.
Meanwhile, Dora’s whimpers were turninginto loud whines with a renewed momentum, and Clarissa had enough.
She reached past the valet and opened the door. She charged right in—and was taken aback by the size of the room and the furnishings.
This was a nursery?
Like the rest of the house, the treatments were made of the finest stuff. The drapes were a gold brocade and the carpet as thick as what was on the stairs. The room’s colors were cream, gold, and shades of blue. A chair on rockers was arranged beside a charmingly ornate crib filled with blankets.
There were also provisions for the nurse. There was a privacy screen, a small armoire, and a bed with a blue counterpane. A washstand with a pitcher and a basin large enough to bathe a baby was located between the two spaces.
At any other time, Clarissa would be quite pleased. This was far more than she had expected. She was also happily surprised to see that her bag with the bottle and clouts was already on the bed beside her valise. Lord Marsden’s servants were very well trained, a compliment to Gibson, she suspected, rather than the earl.
She walked over to the bed and immediately began changing Dora. The baby was hungry and inconsolable. She kicked her feet, which didn’t make unknotting the wet clout easy.
Lord Marsden came up behind her. “Let me help,” he said.
Before she could bark she didn’t need help, he sat on the bed by Dora’s head and caught her flailing arms. The baby stopped crying to see who was interfering with her tantrum.
“Just me,” he cooed to her in a silly musical tone, and Dora fell under his spell. She watched him with her wide, pondering stare, another female to fall for Lord Marsden’s supposed charm—something Clarissa would never understand. Ever. Except, his presence allowed Clarissa to change the clout for a dry one.
She lifted the baby up and reached for the sucking bottle. Catching sight of it, Dora dove for the teat and latched. She made satisfied noises, her hands trying to hold the glass container, as Clarissa cradled her in her arms and took a seat on the bed to better support the baby.
“Well, she’s happy,” Lord Marsden said as if, together, they had reached a good outcome.
He was wrong.
