“Hm, what a surprise. Is that Michael dancing with a lady?”
Clarissa turned at her aunt’s voice, frowning. She immediately spotted Michael in the centre of the room, preparing to commence the dance set. And his partner was Lady Elaine.
Clarissa’s heart sank at the sight. It was one thing to know her brother’s plans but it was another thing entirely to see it come alive right before her eyes. It pained her to see her brother like this. Michael was no longer the same person he had been prior to their father’s death. Prior to their father’s wrongful conviction, for that matter. She lost both her brother and her father that day and she feared she would never get back the Michael she once knew.
“She is quite lovely, is she not?” Beatrice went on, oblivious to Clarissa’s internal struggle. “I have noticed her being carted around by Lady Abney. Do you think they are related? I see little resemblance between the two.”
“I believe she is her niece,” Clarissa murmured.
“Her niece?” Beatrice frowned. “Then would that not make her…”
“Pardon me,” Clarissa mumbled.
She walked away before Beatrice could say anything else. She needed some fresh air, she decided. The knowledge that Michael was about to embark on a quest to ruin another family pierced her heart like a knife.
On one hand, she comprehended his feelings. She understood the hatred and vengeance that consumed his heart, that clouded his judgment. She had once cursed LordSuthenshire and everyone else involved in the lies that had destroyed their family.
However, she herself had come to embrace forgiveness. The darkness that had eaten away at her peace of mind was not worth it. She only wished that Michael could come to peace with what had happened as well.
Clarissa kept going, eyes set on the terrace doors. She was nearly there and would have made it in record time had her path not been abruptly obstructed by a tall, imposing figure.
She drew to a halt, looking up into his dark, stormy eyes. They were deep wells, boring into her with an intensity that immediately sent her guards crashing to the floor. She should have been unnerved by the fierceness of his stare, but instead, she felt the tension and sadness seep out of her body.
Without considering how rude it might appear, her gaze wandered down his form. She observed the sloped jaw and full lips, set in a firm, thin line. His slim yet toned build clearly spoke of a man accustomed to physical pursuits. As he crossed his arms, a sizable ring sparkled upon his finger, signifying his considerable wealth.
“Are you finished?”
His cold tone sent her eyes racing back to him. Clarissa’s face went hot. She’d just been caught staring—no, admiring—this man with wild abandon. How horrifying!
She swallowed, pulling her shoulder back, scraping together her dignity. “May I help you?”
“Yes, you may. Might you be aware of the gentleman currently dancing with my cousin?”
Clarissa looked helplessly at the dancing couples, then back at this incredibly handsome, incredibly rude, gentleman. “There are a dozen gentlemen dancing with a dozen ladies, any one of whom could be your cousin.”
“The tall one. With dark hair.”
She sighed this time. “I cannot assist you. Perhaps you should simply inquire with your cousin if you are so curious.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then you do not know him?”
“I do not knowyou. Nor am I obligated to answer any of your questions simply because you demand them.”
He stared at her for a moment, unblinking. “Forgive me,” he said at last. “I have not yet introduced myself.”
Just then, Lord Jones made his appearance, a jovial smile upon his face. “Ah, Lord Abney! I trust you are enjoying the ball, though with that serious expression, it is difficult to ascertain if you are having any fun at all!”
James's lips twitched, but he remained silent.
“Lady Clarissa!” Lord Jones exclaimed, turning to her with a bright smile. “You look positively ethereal this evening. Do the two of you know one another?”
Clarissa shook her head slightly, feeling a touch of embarrassment. “No, my lord. We merely chanced upon one another. I do beg your pardon for my mindlessness.”
“Ah, allow me the pleasure of an introduction,” Lord Jones said with a flourish. “Lord James Abney, Viscount of Abney.” He gestured toward James. “And this is Lady Clarissa Rycroft, daughter of the late Duke of Ryewood.”
The two exchanged polite nods. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady,” James said, his tone softening.
“Likewise, my lord,” Clarissa replied, her earlier tension easing slightly.
