“Old gossip. I haven’t been in London or near an opium den in months.”
“Oh, well,months,” she echoed and then stopped, blinked, and realized what else he’d said, “Opium den?”
Mars made an impatient sound. “You can lecture me later. Right now, we have an important issue in front of us. My mother thinks I married above me. You passed muster with one of the most critical sticklers in London.”
“She knows nothing about me.”
“My mother is all about appearances. And it is obvious to anyone you are not a lady’s companion or a nurse. You were raised to be a gentlewoman. The truth is, if I must marry someone, well, you are better than the rest of your sex.”
She tilted her head as if pretending to be coy. “Why, thank you, my lord. Such strange compliments you give. I swear my head will be completely turned. You know how to please a lady.”
“It is what makes me such an acclaimed lover,” he answered, baiting her.
“I’ve never heard that.”
“You haven’t been around London.”
“Perhaps the other lovers in London are just terrible.”
That sparked a bark of laughter from him. In all the time he’d known Clarissa, he’d never seen her grovel or fawn in front of anyone. That is what made hereven moreperfect for what he planned.
She smiled as if pleased at her riposte. “I’m happy to amuse you, my lord,” she responded. “However, the hour is late. Let me take Dora—”
“No, I have this.” Dora had finished the bottle, her eyes half-closed. She reminded him of himself and those times when he’d lose himself in an opium dream—
He rejected the comparison. He’d never want that for her. He’d seen the women in those rooms and his daughter would not be one of them. Clarissa would see to that. He lifted her to his shoulder and began rubbing her back the way he’d seen Clarissa do. Her weight felt good.
“Come closer,” he invited. “Pull up a chair. Sit here with us.”
“Why?”
“Miss Taylor, so full of doubt,” he mocked lightly and then said with complete seriousness, “So I can convince you to marry me.”
“It won’t work,” she promised, even as she did as he requested. She sat. “Well?”
Dora had fallen instantly asleep on hisshoulder. He shifted her to his arms, smiling down at her a moment before realizing that if he wanted Clarissa as an ally, he must tell her a portion of the truth. “Here is my story. It is simple and it will explain everything.”
She folded her hands in her lap as if sitting in church waiting for a sermon. Headstrong Clarissa. Funny, but the characteristics that had annoyed him so much over the years were the ones he needed from her now.
He began. “Lord Dervil killed my father.”
“In a duel,” she acknowledged. “I mean I don’t agree with dueling... but there was some fight over property lines? It is a silly way to settle matters.”
Mars ran a light finger over his daughter’s fine, silky hair. She was so innocent. “I would agree”—he looked up at Clarissa—“ifthat tale was true. Actually, Dervil and my mother were lovers.”
Her lips formed a surprised “oh.” What was not shocking in London was very scandalous in Maidenshop.
“My father took exception to it. Can you imagine? Usually those in my class ignore such liaisons as long as everyone is discreet and after an heir is born.” Which had been him.
“Unfortunately, Father was devoted to his wife. Apparently Lord Fenton is as well for reasons I do not understand.”
“Love is blind. Isn’t that the adage?”
“Why, Miss Taylor, you sound jaded.”
“About love?” She frowned. “I suppose so. Certainly ‘jaded’ is agreeing to marry a manyou barely know for security. I almost did that.”
She was referring to his friend Thurlowe. “You did the right thing letting him go. He and Gemma belong together.” Even Mars could see that.
