In the sudden stillness following her departure, Lord Marsden stood quiet. He seemed preoccupied.
Clarissa took the bottle from Dora and said, “Don’t trust her.”
“I don’t,” he replied. He forced a smile, then turned his attention to his daughter. He touched the baby’s head. She looked up at him with bright eyes, her little fingers laced together as if she had been completely satisfied with her dinner. He spoke to Clarissa. “You do look tired. I’m sorry for this and I thank you for being a game one.”
A game one? A person who could be counted on?
And yet he was right. She would not make a fuss about the lie, not in front of the creature who was his mother. She nodded.
He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on Dora’s head.
It was a gentle, loving gesture.
Again, Clarissa envied Dora. Clarissa had never been kissed in any form save for onepeck on the cheek Mr. Thurlowe gave her because she’d badgered him for it. That was after two years of being promised to him. Her adoptive parents hadn’t been demonstrative. There might be a pat on the hand but little else. That had been their way.
And Clarissa could pretend she was happy with her solitary life. After all, what choice did she have? Still, a part of her, one she kept tightly suppressed, yearned formore.
This was dangerous ground, especially around the handsome Lord Marsden, who was revealing a softer side of his nature. Was this ability to be kind the reason the man was notorious for his way with women? Was this how he lured them to him? Clarissa had never understood it—until now.
Having kissed his daughter, he still stood so close she could see the line of his whiskers, feel the heat off his body.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Else?” she whispered, caught up in the moment.
“The bottles, clouts. I’m having Gibson scour the countryside for what you need from the list.”
“Oh.” Clarissa swallowed, and took a wise step away. She could breathe better over here. “We will need more milk very soon.”
He reached for the empty bottle she had set on a table beside the rocker. “I’ll see it is refilled and sent up,” he said, taking his own step away. “I will let you rest. And thank you, Clarissa, for not exposing me for a liar. I knowyou wanted to.” His smile robbed his words of any sting. “It is a terrible thing to compromise a minister’s daughter.”
“There is still time to expose you, my lord. Don’t be too cocky.”
He laughed and walked out the door. Outside, she heard Lady Fenton say, “Where is the baby’s nurse? Shouldn’t she be up here?”
Clarissa could not hear his answer, but she was certain he had a ready one. Of course he would. And now that he’d left the nursery, all the energy in the room seemed to have followed him.
A huge yawn overtook her. Shewastired. He was an aggravating man.
She shifted her attention to the baby. A protective urge rose in Clarissa. This child needed to know she was important, that she was loved no matter her background... something Clarissa had not felt herself when she was younger.
Dora smiled up at her as if she knew Clarissa’s thoughts and approved. Then she returned to the important baby work of trying to take off her shoe.
A half hour later, a tray was delivered with two bottles, a small pitcher of goat’s milk, and some new clouts. She wondered where Mr. Gibson had found the clouts. The butler later appeared to deliver the good news that one of the footmen had a sister available to serve as a wet nurse. She lived in Cambridge and Lord Marsden had already dispatched the footman to talk to his sister and offer her a position.
Clarissa didn’t know how she felt about thisinformation. A wet nurse was important for Dora.
But would Dora need two nurses? Clarissa didn’t want to dwell on the idea of sharing this perfect baby.
Later, a dinner tray was delivered for her.
Clarissa meant to eat except that, after feeding Dora and putting her down for the night, she herself was exhausted. She washed her face and meant to move the privacy screen to separate her bed from the rest of the room. Instead, she sat on the bed, testing it, or so she thought. Before she realized it, her head landed on the pillow and she lost herself in sleep.
It wasn’t an easy rest. Her dreams were muddled and confused. Lord Marsden seemed to float through them. One moment she was in a boat in a storm and he was sailing alongside her, except his boat wasn’t in the storm. The clouds and high waves were only for her. Soon, she found herself on the back of a mad horse and he appeared, taking her reins to steer her to safety...
Clarissa didn’t know what woke her. Groggily, she recognized the hour was late. No more than the middle of the night.
The air was chilled in spite of a small fire in the hearth. Its flames sent shadows around the room save for this dark corner where her bed was. She had not heard anyone come in and light it. Then again, she hadn’t realized her room at Mrs. Emsdale’s had a fire—
