An alarmingly long time.
He cast a quick glance at his aunt, and she too was watching Clarissa closely. They were in the duchess's private sitting room and tea sat cooling on the table between them, untouched.
Clarissa was staring at a spot on the rug with fixed concentration. Kit couldn't blame her. It was a lot to comprehend.
His aunt had given him permission to tell Clarissa about Lydia that morning. "She's family now," the duchess had said. "And she was harmed by Barrington to get at me. She deserves to know why."
So he'd told her. All of it. Clarissa had listened with wide eyes and a closed mouth, which told him how shocked she was.
Now, finally, she looked up.
"What I wonder," she said slowly, "is how Lady Arabella is involved."
Kit glanced at his aunt, whose teacup had paused halfway to her lips.
"Arabella?" Kit said.
Clarissa's cheeks colored, the way they always did when she suspected she'd said something that might sound foolish. "I might be wrong. It's just—" She pressed her lips together, then the words burst out. "At the musicale. When I attended with Lord Hartley, you remember, and then— But no. Before the rumors broke. Lady Arabella found me in the corridor and told me I should leave early. She said something about my gown not suiting me, but that wasn't what she meant. I feel as though… I could be wrong, of course. But I think—" She turned in her seat to face Kit and the duchess. "I think she was trying to warn me."
When they stared at her in silence, Clarissa bit her lip. "It could be nothing. I could be making it up, but I— She's been acting strangely, I think. But then again, I don't know?—"
"I'll look into it," the duchess interrupted. "It would not surprise me. Barrington has a charm about him, and he has a history of using that charm to manipulate young ladies."
Like my sister. She didn't say it, but Kit heard it all the same.
Kit frowned. He remembered Clarissa mentioning Arabella's oddness once, but at the time it had been swallowed by the catastrophe that followed.
The duchess set down her teacup.
"I don't know that she's directly involved," Clarissa said quickly. "But she knew those rumors were coming before anyone else did. Either she heard them first, or?—"
"Or she was the one asked to spread them," the duchess finished.
Clarissa nodded. "Of course, I don't want to implicate any young lady if she's innocent." She grew thoughtful. "But she has seemed strange lately, and I wonder— That is, I fear…"
"Someone could have compelled her to spread rumors she'd rather not spread. Yes, that is a possibility." The duchess's eyes were sharp. "I'll look into it."
Clarissa nodded, and Kit saw her shoulders relax slightly.
The duchess was quiet for a moment, turning her teacup in its saucer. Then she turned to Kit. "On a related matter. Your friend Mr. Gage."
Kit straightened. "Gage? What about him?"
"I'd like to speak with him."
A spike of protectiveness had Kit leaning forward. "Aunt Philippa, I know people think he's morally questionable because he runs a gaming hell. But he's a good man. He took Clementine in when she had nowhere to go. He paid for Mrs. Briggs out of his own pocket. He's been my closest friend since we were boys, and I won't have him dragged into?—"
"Kit." The duchess held up a hand. "I'm not accusing the man of anything."
He closed his mouth.
"I'm quite aware of Mr. Gage's character," she continued. "I've known about his involvement with Clementine since you told me, and it speaks very well of him. That is not why I'm bringing him up."
Kit frowned. "Then why?"
"Because one of the men who was seen watching this house—one of Barrington's associates, we believe—was followed by Sebastian's people. And he led them to the docks." She paused. "Specifically, to a warehouse that belongs to Mr. Gage."
Kit went still.
