“Other than our terms.”
Yes, the terms. Had what she’d asked for out of a need to protect herself now present a barrier between them?
“You are my wife, Clarissa. I’m pleased.”
As far as declarations went, that one was decidedly flat, and yet Clarissa valued honesty. In spite of the tightening in her throat, she nodded.
“You don’t understand,” he said, his tone hollow. “I can’t love . . . love is what killed my father. He loved her too much.”
She released his hands. “I’m not asking you to love me back.”
“Clarissa—”
“No,” she said, interrupting him. “I’m not insulted or angry.” And then she realized a truth. “My feelings for you don’t demand tribute. I’m here, Mars. If you need a friend, I will be one. If you want a lover—” She touched his arm and then lowered her hand. “I’m here. I’m so very here.” She stepped back. “Always. And I thank you for your generosity. But in truth, Dora and I hope you are with us for a long time.” Forever. She wanted to be with him forever. “Now, you must excuse me. Kate’s abigail Mary should arrive shortly to help me dress.”
Her inclination was to race out the door. She forced herself to be dignified, to prove she didn’t need for him to return her love. After all, this was all very new to her as well—
“Rissa.”
She turned. He stood where she’d left him, tall, silent... worried.
“Thank you,” he said, the words almost a whisper.
She forced a smile. “You are welcome, my lord.” On those words, she left and didn’t draw a full breath until she reached the bedroom. She shut the door and walked over to the bedpost, rubbing the wood with her hand.
What would happen? She’d never felt as open and vulnerable as she had speaking her heart.However, she had no regrets. If anything, she felt alive in a way she’d never thought possible. Sheloved. She lovedhim. Was there a greater gift?
And someday, he would understand. She just had to be patient.
Mary arrived with the gown. She and Clarissa retired to the countess’s dressing room. An hour later, Mary had worked magic.
Staring at herself in the glass, Clarissa said, “This is not me.”
“Aye, it is, my lady.”
Clarissa’s hair was piled high on her head with golden curls tumbling around her shoulders. Kate had lent her pearl combs that Mary had tucked together to form a simple headpiece and Clarissa felt very regal, especially with the dress’s lace framing her neckline. She finished the ensemble with a cream cashmere shawl, another item from Kate, and, of course, the long gold chain carrying her mother’s pendant.
Mars waited for her in the reception room. He was in black evening dress and appeared noble and more handsome than any one man should. His reaction when he saw her enter the room was exactly as she could have wished.
For a moment, he acted speechless. Then he came over to her, taking her gloved hand. “You will outshine every woman at the ball.”
The heat of a blush warmed her cheeks. “Thank you, my lord. I am nervous.”
“You needn’t be. I’ll be there.” And just like that any awkwardness between them over her earlier declaration vanished. He offered his arm and escorted her out to the waiting coach that had just returned from taking Mary home.
On the ride, he talked about the people who would be in attendance as if that would calm her. It didn’t. These were names she’d only heard about in the papers.
Finally, he said, “I’m blathering. Is it helping?”
She placed a hand against her stomach. “A little.”
He laughed. “Courage, Rissa. You have the backbone of a matron.”
That teasing declaration eased some of the tension in her. She knew Mrs. Warbler and the others would want a full accounting of this evening.
They would not be disappointed with her story. There was no doubt something momentous was happening at Lord Harrison’s residence. There were so many candles in the windows and torches by the door, the house glowed in the night.
The Marsden coach joined the line of guests waiting their turn. This gave Clarissa a chance to watch people alight from their vehicles, to see their finery, and to convince herself that she would fit in amongst their company.
