When nearly a full minute passed without her blurting out some random exclamation, Clarissa beamed.
Mrs. Lennox gave in to a small, exasperated shake of her head. But John laughed. "There. You did it. All your practice has paid off."
She bit her lip to keep from ruining it.
Clarissa's tendency to speak at length and without sufficient forethought was not merely unladylike, her mother had assured her before she'd returned to London. It was the single greatest impediment to securing a suitable match.
Young men did not want wives who talked more than they did. Young men wanted composure and poise.
She could do that. If it meant securing a husband and starting a family—not to mention appeasing her parents—then she could certainly do that.
She peeked out the window as the carriage rolled to a stop. The manor they stopped in front of was overflowing with guests. They waited in line at the doorway and spilled out onto the side veranda.
Even from here, she could hear the music and the laughter.
And the urge to turn to John and prattle on about it all was almost more than she could bear. But for tonight, she would keep all her thoughts and opinions to herself, even if it killed her.
As if John could read her mind, he said, "I don't know why you have this sudden urge to change your personality, my dear. You know those of us who love you, adore you exactly as you are."
Clarissa turned in her seat to flash him a smile. He'd been nearly eight when their father had remarried after his mother had passed away. They shared their father's dark hair and eyes, but in temperament they were nothing alike. John did not need to rehearse calm composure. He'd simply always had it. But despite their differences, he'd always been her most supportive ally.
Even now, he was so kind to her. But the truth was—he was lying.
Oh, certainly, his daughter Lucy might enjoy her high-spirited aunt. And he himself loved her enough as a sister to overlook her faults. But she could not expect the same from a man who meant to marry her.
She'd learned that well enough from Edmund. She used to think he liked her exactly as she was. He used to call her passionate and enthusiastic. He'd also called her silly, but he'd smiled when he'd said it and she'd thought it was a fond smile.
But the woman he'd chosen instead was quiet and composed. If that didn't tell her how he really felt, then she didn't know what did.
A footman opened the door and Hartington House stood before them, blazing with light from every window.
"Chin up," Mrs. Lennox murmured as they walked up the drive. "And remember, don't fidget."
Clarissa nodded. No talking. No fidgeting. Just smile and nod. This was the new and improved Clarissa, making her entrance into good society.
She could do this. Of course she could.
The ballroom was bright and warm. And if people turned their heads when she passed, and glances lingered, and whispers followed, well—Clarissa kept her closed-mouthed smile firmly in place.
She was an earl's daughter. And her brother was by her side. And besides all that, new and improved Clarissa had a plan. Find a sensible, steady, thoroughly unexciting husband—and then go home.
The first hour passed with relative ease. She danced with a pleasant, forgettable baron. Then she joined a conversation with a matron who asked about her father's estate. She managed to keep her sentences short and her smile polite.
New Clarissa was performing admirably well. She was almost smug when she rejoined her brother a little while later and he handed her a punch.
"Did I tell you I had a letter from Lucy?" he asked.
"No!" Clarissa forgot her new and improved self for a moment. "How is she? Is she well? Did you tell her I bought her a book of fairy tales? Oh, I do think she'll like it. Did she— Oh, no. She wouldn't have. But go on, what did she say?"
John chuckled when Clarissa winced and made a show of clamping her lips shut.
"Actually, she asked if you'd send her another of your stories," John said.
Clarissa beamed with pleasure. "I do adore your daughter. You know that, don't you?"
"The feeling is mutual," he said.
And no one adored Lucy more than he. This much went without saying. In fact, it was because of Lucy that he was here.
