He acted as if Clarissa should be happy, except she wasn’t certain how she felt. The thought flitted through her mind that if this widow had appeared before she did, then the footman’s sister might be marrying Mars.
Immediately, she recognized the uncharitable thought as a mixture of jealousy and the old fear that she didn’t truly matter to anyone. She tried to push it away. She was better than this.
Shewas. Except she had to repeat the admonishment several times to herself.
Mars didn’t notice anything amiss. Neither did the butler because men rarely noticed anything save for the direction of their own thoughts.
Her future husband was ordering Mr. Gibson to have a rider set off for the bishop. “I need a special license. We will have a wedding posthaste.”
“And that means?” Clarissa asked, a bit unnerved by how quickly her life was changing.
“Tomorrow, if at all possible,” he said as if the answer was obvious.
“Tomorrow?” she repeated, incredulous.Tomorrow was too soon. She had just reached her decision.
“I took the liberty of sending a letter to Reverend Summerall with our plans.”
“But you didn’t know what my answer would be.”
“I was optimistic. Summerall is very happy for us. I will include his letter commending us to the bishop with my request.”
At that moment, Dora started fussing in the room behind her. He craned his neck to look beyond Clarissa and then he walked right past her, moving toward the crib. He picked up Dora who kicked her legs as if recognizing him. He smiled his approval. “Let me give you both the full tour of the house,” he cooed more to Dora than Clarissa. “That is a good idea. After all, you two will be living here.”
Clarissa still stood in shock.Tomorrow.
They would be in London on Monday.
And once again, her life was changing.
Chapter Nine
I am letting in the enemy, I am marrying. God help me.
—Book of Mars
Mars gave Clarissa a few moments to pin her hair up before he gave her and Dora a complete tour of Belvoir. He held the baby easily in one arm as he guided them through the main house.
There were no fewer than fourteen bedrooms, all of them named after a different color with bed linens to match, and twofulllibraries. To Clarissa’s surprise, Mars enjoyed reading. The expression on her face must have given away her shock. “And here you probably didn’t believe I could read,” he suggested.
Clarissa did not lie. “I’d never imagined it.”
“I hope I continue to surprise you,” he said, obviously pleased with himself. He then explained that there was a third library in his London house. “The newer books are there.”
Newer books?
Nothing brought home the advantages to marrying him like the realization that she could havebooks. Lots of books. Reading was her escape, her passion. She could have sworn she’d read every available book in Maidenshop until she saw his libraries. How could he have kept them from her?
She walked reverently into the room and ran a hand over the binding. There was literature, botany, geography, diaries—the wealth of topics threatened to overwhelm her.
Comfortable chairs were situated by the window. There was also a desk and writing implements. A leather-bound journal was centered on the desk. She glanced at the handwritten title. “‘Book of Mars’?”
He actually blushed. It was a startling sight. He paused as if weighing whether to say something and then apparently decided he must. “It is my diary.”
“Oh, do you keep track of your daily proceedings?” She asked out of interest. She could never keep a diary with any regularity.
“Somewhat. Mostly it is just random thoughts I have. Observations about”—he waved a distracted hand—“life. Sometimes only a line or two a day.”
“I’d like to read it.”
