"When we met at the duchess's drawing room and you said 'It's you' and I said 'Have we met?' And?—"
"I remember." There was laughter in his voice now. "You didn't recognize me."
She peeked up at him with a sheepish smile. "I recognized you. Before you even opened your mouth." She was blushing furiously now, the words coming faster. "I knew exactly who you were. I'd thought about you—about that day at the inn—more times than I care to admit, and when I saw you standing there with that ridiculous smile and that infuriating dimple, I knew."
"You—" He was staring at her. "You lied?"
She winced. "I lied."
He leaned back to study her. "For months. You maintained—for months—that you had no memory of?—"
"I was petty!" The words burst out of her. "You'd just been haggling over me like a pig at the market, and I was humiliated, and you were standing there looking so pleased with yourself and that dimple was just—" She waved a hand at his face. "It was right there, and I couldn't look at it without losing my composure, so I panicked and I lied and then I'd committed to it and I couldn't take it back."
Kit stared at her. Then he started to laugh.
"Don't you dare laugh at me, Kit." Of course, her statement wasn't terribly effective since she'd also started to laugh. "You deserved it. You were negotiating my reputation like a business transaction."
"I was trying to help," he said.
She huffed. "You were trying to get paid."
He winced. "Both things can be true."
She shoved his shoulder. He caught her hand and kissed it.
"You remembered me," he said again, softer now.
"Of course I did." Her voice went quiet too. "You were the last good thing that happened before everything went wrong. That day at the inn—I was so happy, Kit. I was on my way to tell Edmund and I was so sure everything was going to be perfect. And then this dashing man appeared at my table with a dimple and a smile that should be illegal, and he couldn't even get a sentence out because I wouldn't stop talking."
"You were magnificent," he said.
She rolled her eyes. "I was ridiculous."
"Both things can be true," he said again. So seriously it was impossible not to laugh.
She turned to face him. "When I saw you at the ball that first night, all I could think was that's the man from the happiest day of my life. And instead I'd become Cast-Off Clarissa, and I knew you'd find out what happened, and?—"
"And you couldn't bear it," he finished.
"It was just so humiliating," she whispered. "So I pretended you didn't exist. It seemed easier than admitting that the girl at the coaching inn was gone."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "She wasn't gone."
She looked up.
"She was right there." He touched her cheek. "Every time you forgot to be all calm and composed, I saw her. And every time I marveled, because she was extraordinary."
Her eyes filled with tears. She didn't try to hide it.
"For the record," he said, his tone lightening. "The man at the coaching inn spent the rest of the day thinking about the girl who hadn't asked his name. He couldn't forget about her even if he tried. And when he arrived in London and saw her across the ballroom, his first thought was—there she is."
"Here I am," she said with a grin.
He kissed her forehead. "And this time I'm not letting you go."
26
Kit watched Clarissa in silence. She had been quiet for a long time.
