Wait, she wasn’t at Mrs. Emsdale’s.
Her aged employer had let her go, without pay that had rightfully been hers...
All the memories came rolling back—the grueling ride on the Post, the appearance of Lord Marsden. The baby.
Yes,the baby. Where was the child?
Clarissa sat up. Her hair was a mess and her wrinkled skirts were caught around her knees. Her shoes were spread out on the floor as if she’d taken them off in her sleep. She put her feet over the side of the bed, looking toward the crib, and then noticed the man in the rocker. He’d pulled it up to the fire.
His back was to her but she recognized those long legs that gently rocked the chair back and forth. Lord Marsden. He wasn’t wearing stockings or shoes but leather slippers. At least he appeared to have a shirt and breeches on, so he was decent.
Or was this another confusing dream?
And where was Dora? The baby should have wakened her by now. Clarissa jumped up from the bed, her balance unsteady. She moved to the crib and found it empty.
For a second, she panicked and turned toward him. He’d been contemplating the fire as if she wasn’t even there. He must know she was awake and yet, he gave no indication he heard her. She walked to the front of the chair.
Heheldthe baby. Of course.
Lord Marsden was feeding her from one of the bottles. Dora had wrapped her fingers around one of his as if holding him in placewhile she ate. Her eyes were closed and yet she was busy sucking with all she had.
For a second, Clarissa didn’t know what to do.
He was performingherduties. She had been raised to take her responsibilities seriously. She was judged by how well she performed. In fact, she prided herself as superior to him because he never seemed to be serious. And here he was, feeding his daughter as if it was no effort.
She’d never heard of a man doing that with an infant.
Clarissa pushed her hair back. There were pins still hanging in her tresses. It would take an hour to brush it out. “I can take over for you, my lord.”
He looked up at her, no condescension in his expression. It was almost as if he wasn’t seeing her at all. The firelight caught the shadows of his face. He seemed pensive. “I’m fine. I heard her talking. It was the sweetest little babble. She makes more sense than most adults I know. You didn’t eat much of your dinner.”
The abrupt change of topic surprised her. “I was too tired,” she confessed.
“Understandable. Yesterday was a strange and busy day.” He looked over at her. “You should return to bed. However, before you do, there is something I wish to discuss with you.”
“What is that, my lord?”
He answered, “I believe we should actually marry.”
Her response was swift. “Have you lost your wits?”
Chapter Seven
Sometimes, the twists and turns of the world make little sense.
—Book of Mars
Mars was not surprised at her flat refusal. As far as proposals went, it was a singularly poor one. He realized that the moment the words left his lips. He was too direct. One of his many failings.
Still, the idea had taken hold in his mind. He could see the advantages. He just had to convince Clarissa. This was a brilliant solution to all of their problems, including Dora’s. “I understand that I may have caught you off guard earlier by claiming we were married—”
“‘Caught off guard’ is an understatement.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, determined to have his say. “My mother’s appearance surprised me and, in the moment, my only thought was to protect Dora. You can appreciate that, can’t you?”
“Except the truth will come out, no matter how many women you falsely claim to be your wife.”
“Clarissa, don’t be so flat-footed.”
