Page 43

Kit was sprawled across from him with his hat tilted over his eyes, and he'd appeared to be dozing before they'd even cleared Mayfair. Clarissa sat beside John, watching London give way to open road with a contented expression.

His sister had always adored the country and had been eagerly waiting to return to it.

"Lucy will be beside herself," Clarissa said. "I wrote to tell her we were coming, and I suspect she's already worked herself into a frenzy of planning."

John managed a smile. "She will have organized a full program of entertainments, I'm sure. We shall be given no peace."

"Good. I could do with a bit of chaos." Clarissa leaned back in her seat. "Honestly, John, I think this is the best thing for everyone. A few weeks in the country. Fresh air. No gossip columns." She nudged his arm. "No more pretending."

He looked out the window.

"You must be relieved," she added.

"Mm." He didn't actually expect his nonanswer to put an end to the conversation, but he'd hoped.

In vain, of course. Once Clarissa caught hold of a topic, she rarely let go.

"It has been an awful lot to manage, hasn't it?" she continued. "This whole business with the duchess and Lady Arabella. I know you were only doing what was asked of you, but still—" She shook her head. "I worry about you. You take on too much."

He turned to give her a smile. "I am fine, Clarissa."

She gave him a look. "You are always fine, John. That is what worries me. You don't have to be fine, you do know that, don't you?"

She paused, and he thought perhaps she was done.

He thought wrong.

"I keep thinking about what Eleanor would say if she could see you now," Clarissa continued.

His lungs constricted sharply at the unexpectedness of her remark, but he kept his expression neutral.

It was a thought he hadn't let himself ponder. Not when he'd first agreed to the ruse with Arabella, and certainly not after that kiss.

"She would tell you to stop being so noble and start being happy." Clarissa's voice had gone fond. "She was always telling you that, wasn't she? That you didn't have to carry everything."

He said nothing. Because Eleanor had told him that, more than once. It had become something of a joke between them.

Not that he was some heroic prince, but merely because others had relied on him for as long as he could remember. He'd been born an earl's heir, and then older brother to a much younger half sister, and then as soon as he'd come of age, he'd become a husband and father.

"I know I keep saying this," Clarissa continued, "but I do hope you'll give yourself a chance now. To find someone kind and warm who'll take care of you and Lucy." She reached over and squeezed his hand. "Someone who can give you some peace, John. You deserve that."

Kind. Warm. A good mother.

Yes. That was what he needed. And heaven knew it was what Lucy deserved.

He nodded, his gaze drifting to the window as Clarissa kept talking.

His sister was right. She was describing exactly the sort of woman he ought to want. The sort of woman Eleanor had been. The sort of woman Arabella had told him, in the duchess's drawing room yesterday morning, that she was not.

He should be relieved that Arabella had the sense to stop what he'd started before anyone got hurt. In fact, he should be grateful.

He was not feeling particularly grateful at the moment. But he supposed that would come.

He'd lost his head for a moment there, that was all.

They stopped to change horses at a coaching inn outside Hertford. Kit went inside for ale. Thea followed, asking him questions about the process of brewing that had Kit grinning as he explained what he knew.

Arabella emerged from the second carriage and walked toward the inn without looking in his direction.