***
The following evening, Aunt Dora proposed that Clarissa attend another supper with her and her new beau, Lord Marchmere, with Lord Travener accompanying them.
“I’m tired of our staid ways. They were fine while we were struggling to make you a success, but now you have reached that pinnacle, it’s time we enjoyed our rewards. I want a secure future for myself. And I think you need to do the same,” Aunt Dora proclaimed.
Clarissa’s stomach clenched at the idea. Aunt Dora had never spoken of such a goal before. “And how do you intend to fulfil this wish, Aunt?” she asked as she fiddled with the buttons on one of her gloves, which was already done up.
“I intend to find a protector to support me, before I’m too old.”
“And you’ve settled on Lord Marchmere?” Clarissa didn’t succeed in keeping the incredulity out of her voice.
“Yes,” her aunt answered decisively. “He’ll do me. At my age, I’m lucky to have any wealthy man interested in me.”
“You’re not old, Aunt!”
“Old enough! I’m in my fifth decade.”
Aunt Dora was still an attractive woman and dressed well.
“And it’s timeyoufound a wealthy patron, Clarissa,” her aunt added.
What!“Oh no, Aunt. I’m not interested in a patron or a protector. I won’t fall into same trap as my mother.”
“Your mother foolishly fell in love with her protector. Which you won’t be silly enough to do.”
“No, I won’t, because I won’t be taking one. And I won’t be taking a husband until I’m ready to retire!”I need to make my name on the stage first.
Aunt Dora smiled, and a calculating look flashed in her eyes. “We’ll see,” she murmured. “Travener would be a generous patron for you.”
“I’m not interested in snagging a patron, aunt.” She fiddled with her glove in impatience.
“Every woman needs a protector at some time.”
Clarissa forced down her annoyance with this conversation. She fixed a bonnet onto her head. “Ready.”
Her aunt gave a decisive tip of her chin, perhaps pleased she had had the last word. “Good. Let’s go find the gentlemen and go to supper.”
Clarissa groaned. Not again. But she owed her career to her aunt, so she gritted her teeth like an obedient niece and followed Aunt Dora out the dressing room door. Francis’s words of caution about these men echoed in her mind.
They went to Rules Restaurant again and this time chose oysters for their meal. The meal was long and boozy. Again, her aunt drank so much she tittered at every inane utterance from Lord Marchmere.
Lord Travener was slurring his words well before the end of the meal. So quickly that Clarissa suspected he had consumed a good deal ahead of their rendezvous.
During the meal, Clarissa became adept at keeping his hands at bay. But still he leaned towards her, crowding her until she felt as though she sat perched on the edge of her chair. One more touch of his hand on her arm and she swore she would leap to her feet and slap him.
Finally, the others finished their meals and readied to leave, saving her that ignominy. Clarissa sighed at the thought of steering her tipsy aunt home and into bed afterwards. Again.
But it was far worse than that. Lord Marchmere insisted on driving them home and her aunt was in the carriage before Clarissa could decline.
Inside Lord Marchmere’s carriage, the darkened space felt like a closet, filled with the strong smell of new leather. Nausea threatened her. Clarissa was seated beside Aunt Dora on theforward-facing seat. For all of two minutes. Until her aunt took it into her mind to clamber across the space between the bench seats and onto Lord Marchmere’s lap.
That gentleman welcomed her with a hearty kiss.
Clarissa cringed. “Aunt Dora, please sit beside me.”
Instead, Lord Travener inserted himself into the space beside her, blocking her aunt’s return, even if she had wished to comply. “Let me keep you company instead, Miss Bartlett,” he whispered in her ear. The clip clop of the horses’ hooves, the creak of carriage timbers, and the grind of wheels on cobblestones didn’t mask his heavy breathing beside her.
Holding her breath in fright, Clarissa shrank away from him.
