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McConnell was Sutworth’s steward. Though her father did not care for the man, Clarissa liked him immensely.
“I’m sorry to hear of your parents,” she said, taking advantage of the lilac-scented water Kirstine had brought. Dipping a small white cloth into the bowl, she began by washing her face and then moved to her neck.
“Thank you, my lady.”
“Tell me of Sutworth. My father does not deign to visit often, so my knowledge of this magnificent place is sorely lacking.”
Kirstine cocked her head to the side. “When were you here last?”
Clarissa tried to remember, but the days ran together, each more miserable than the last. With the exception of the tournament, and her journey here, so few of them had been filled with joy that Clarissa had stopped paying attention to the passing of time.
“Many years go,” she said vaguely. “But I am glad to be here now.”
When Kirstine looked at her this time, it was as if the other woman could see through her. It was not an unkindly gaze, but it made her feel uncomfortable nonetheless.
“Yet you are not staying.”
Clarissa froze. The maid knew something.
“What do you—”
“I am sorry, my lady,” she rushed to answer. “I’d been ordered to clean Father’s chamber, and when you entered . . . I did not know what to do. I did not mean to listen, but you began speaking and . . .”
The maid hung her head.
“You were there. You heard everything.”
It was not a question. Clarissa could feel her own heart pounding inside her chest. If word spread of her true intentions . . .
“I am so sorry, my lady. As I said, I did not mean—”
It struck Clarissa that the woman likely feared for her position. Clarissa’s father was notoriously unforgiving of the smallest errors in judgment.
“Shhh,” she said, willing the maid to look at her. She crossed the room and placed a hand on Kirstine’s shoulder. “I understand.”
The woman’s tear-filled eyes confirmed her suspicion. Her father, who rarely came to Sutworth Manor, had sufficiently terrified the staff.
“I am not my father,” she said simply.
Kirstine seemed to understand. She swallowed. “I am so very—”
“Sorry, I know.” Clarissa removed her hand. “Please . . . please do not tell anyone of my plans. If the wrong person learns of them—”
“You fear him too?”
Clarissa did not have to ask of whom she spoke.
“Aye.”
Kirstine wiped her eyes with her thumb. “I’ve never even met the man.”
Clarissa hoped she never would. “So you can understand my need to keep my intentions a secret?”
Kirstine nodded. “But do you truly believe this is the only way? You are prepared to give your life to God?”
Prepared? Nay. No nun should react to a man with the fluttering sense of anticipation she felt toward Aidan. But she had no other choice. Clarissa refused to be married to another man like Lord Stanley.
“There is no other way.”
