However, he surprised himself by having one of the best night’s sleep he’d had in a long time.
The next morning, Mars sat in front of his looking glass while Nelson finished shaving him. Mars was dressed in boots, breeches, shirt, and vest. He’d already had a cup of tea and had foregone the Port. The loss of it had not seemed to bother him and Mars took this as a positive sign.
There was a knock on the nursery door. His breath caught in his throat.
He reached for a towel and wiped his face. “That is enough, Nelson. You may go.”
“My lord?” The valet appeared confused.
“I need a moment alone,” Mars said, pointing to the nursery door.
Nelson’s eyes lit and he nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. Mars wondered what the talk was now in the servants’ hall.
Once the valet left, Mars walked to the nursery door. He could almost feel her presence on the other side. She had an answer for him.
He opened the door, catching Clarissa just as she was preparing to knock again.
Her hair was completely down and brushed out. It was longer than he had imagined. The golden ale color of it made her green eyes all the more prominent. Cat’s eyes. Seductive ones. The sort a man could lose himself in. He braced himself, suddenly uncertain of her decision.
Then she said one word, but it was the only word he needed.
“Yes.”
“Excellent,” he answered, deeply relieved. She would go through with it. Dora would be in good hands.
“However,” she continued, “you said our marriage could be whatever I wished it. I have a few terms I want understood before we continue.”
“Terms?” She sounded so businesslike.
“Rules, then, if you prefer that word.”
And he knew she had him. He would agree to anything and hehadoffered, although he felt a stab of disappointment. She sounded likeany of his mistresses. And why not? Women were grasping creatures. His mother was the queen of the lot.
“Very well, Miss Taylor, what are your terms?”
Chapter Eight
There is always a shining moment when one makes a decision, and then reality sets in.
—Book of Mars
Clarissa was shocked by her boldness.
She’d had every intention of turning him down.
The man frustrated her with his loose ways. If she was the earl, she would be present foreveryvote in the Lords. She’d also spearhead laws that would help people, even down to the orphans in the foundling home.
His laxity toward his responsibilities had always annoyed her. Then again, the villagers could count on him. If there was a crisis, he was there. If a parishioner suffered bad luck, Clarissa knew firsthand that all her father or Reverend Summerall had to do was ask. And Mars never boasted about his help.
Yes, he could buy up all the goats, but there had been a time when Mr. Ewan’s oxen teamhad taken ill and died. Without any fanfare, a new team had shown up in his barn. Clarissa knew the earl had been behind the gift and so many other occasions when a villager needed a little help.
By marrying him, she would be allying herself with the ability to bestow those gifts that made a difference.
In the middle of her weighing all the reasons she should say no to Lord Marsden, Dora had woken. Fortunately, there was another bottle prepared and waiting. Then afterward, instead of going back to sleep, Dora had been content to contemplate the world. She’d tried reaching for her feet, babbling the most charming nonsense as she did so. She didn’t know the difficulties waiting in her future. She trusted that someone would be there for her, even if those people included a mother willing to give her away. Or a father who surprised Clarissa in his readiness to accept responsibility for his child.
A father’s support didn’t mean that life would be easy. Or not full of questions.
As Clarissa played with the baby by buzzing her finger in the air around Dora as if the tip of it was a bee, she found herself wondering about her own parentage. She’d had a mother who had given birth to her and then left her to the care of others. And a father who had stood aside and watched. Or who had possibly died.
