Chapter Six
The next morning, Clarissa woke to the scent of sandalwood and citrus. Her eyes still closed, she inhaled the delightful aroma.Mmmm, eau de Frank Brody.
Then she remembered the events of the previous evening, which had ended with her finding sanctuary at Reverend Brody’s lodgings. And finally, alone in his warm bed, cocooned in crisp linen sheets imbued with his masculine cologne.
Through the window came the feeble light of another winter’s day. Clarissa stretched and squirmed deeper into the feather bed, away from the chilled air of the bedchamber. She dozed again, but soon an appetizing whiff of toast roused her.
At the third growl of her stomach, she threw aside the bedclothes and stepped onto the timber floor.Cold, cold, cold. Hastily, Clarissa pulled on her overgarments from yesterday and opened the bedchamber door to step into Francis’s sitting room. Warmth greeted her.
The well-organized space she remembered from last night was set for breakfast. A small table stood between the two wing chairs standing on either side of the hearth. Francis sat in one, holding a loaded toasting fork over the flame in his hearth. Three slices lay on a plate, already buttered and ready to eat.
He turned to her, a warm smile on his face, lighting up his brown eyes.
“Good morning.” She smiled back at him, glad of his welcome. “That toast smells marvelous.”
“Come and eat before it goes cold. The tea is ready too.”
Clarissa took the vacant chair and poured the brew from the stoneware teapot into the ready cups. Then she attacked the plate of toast.Delicious.
And Frank looked delicious too—enticingly kissable this morning, with his mussed-up hair and a few stray waves on his forehead.
She really shouldn’t be having those sorts of thoughts about the good curate. There were much more pressing and important issues she must resolve today. She swallowed the last of her toast. “I need to find new accommodation without delay.”
“I can help you with that. One of my parishioners told me yesterday that she has a vacancy.”
Her shoulders lost the tension she hadn’t realized they held. A room opening and Francis knew the landlady. Surely she would be successful. She took a bite of toast.
Long before Frank’s more fashionable neighbors had arisen, he escorted Clarissa to a boarding house a few blocks away, run by a landlady who was a member of the St Paul’s Parish. Clarissa quickly secured the room, then accompanied by Francis, marched to her former lodgings where he stood guard outside while she packed her belongings. She struggled out of her room loaded with four carpet bags and a hat box.
“Was your aunt home?” Francis asked, closing the distance to her.
“No, and there’s no sign she has been here since last night.” She sent a significant look his way. Although bewildered by her aunt choosing such an unappealing man as her lover, relief that their paths hadn’t crossed was her overriding emotion.
“Ah.” Francis claimed all but the hat box from her arms. “Is this all your luggage?”
“All that I wish to keep. My aunt is welcome to the rest. She can sell my dresses for her expenses, as I will no longer be needing her assistance.” Would the sale of some dresses and trinkets keep her aunt happy, instead of the money from Clarissa’s ascendancy on the London stage?Possibly not.
They hurried back to her new boarding house to unpack her belongings before leaving again for rehearsal at the theatre. Clarissa hoped her aunt would not turn up. Surely she had drunk too much to wish to venture from Lord Marchmere’s bed today.
To make sure she would never have to deal with her aunt again at the theatre, Clarissa informed the manager and the porter that as they were no longer working in association, her aunt should no longer have access to the theatre.
The last curtain call couldn’t come soon enough. Clarissa had a crashing headache in reward for her late night the previous day. She whispered a prayer of thanks that her aunt had not arrived while she was on stage, so there was no argument to be had after the performance.
When Clarissa exited the stage entrance ready to request one of the doormen to hail a cab for her, she found Frank Brody outside in conversation with the theatre manager. At her appearance, he bid Mr. Prentice goodnight and strode towards her. “Miss Bartlett, may I escort you to your lodgings?”
“Yes, of course.” His offer cheered her. She didn’t want to be alone.
“Shall we walk, or would you prefer to take a hackney?”
“Tonight, I feel like walking, if you don’t mind.”Especially with you.She stole a sideways glance at his handsome face.
“I would be delighted. I usually walk.”
He offered her his arm and Clarissa curled her fingers around the crook of his elbow.
“Your aunt didn’t turn up?”
“Thankfully, no. I don’t know what to say to her anymore. I’ve left word that she’s not to be admitted.”
