PROLOGUE
London, 1815
Clarissa was frozen in place, her heart racing so wildly she felt that it might burst from her chest. Her hand shook as she read the letter held between her fingers.
My Dearest Clarissa,
I can deny this no longer. I am in love, and I am unable to hide it.
For many months, Mr Harrison has been more than just a tutor to me. He has been my light in the darkest of days. I have come to accept that I cannot live without him.
We have declared our feelings for one another, and I am to be his wife. We head to Gretna Green even as I write this.
I know the devastation this news will cause Mama and Papa, but they will not let me live as I must.
I love you with all my heart and can only pray that, in time, I will have your forgiveness.
Yours,
Catherine.
Clarissa drew in a long, painful breath and attempted to hold back the tears banked in her eyes. How could she? She crumpled the note between her palms, squeezing it forcefully. She wished for the ink to bleed into her skin and disappear, taking the painful truth with it.
How could this have happened?
Clarissa walked unsteadily to the entrance hall of the house. The familiar floor seemed to dance before her eyes as she attempted to compose herself. The walls about her were lined with family portraits going back generations, their stoic faces only serving to remind her of the Crompton legacy her sister had just destroyed.
Her family had always been among the most respected in the Ton—and now they were all ruined. Catherine had, with a single act of selfish recklessness, destroyed their reputation overnight.
“Clarissa?”
She turned, her eyes moving upward to the grand staircase. Her father’s portly form stood at the top of the steps; his brow furrowed as he descended toward her.
“Whatever is it, child? You look very unwell.”
Clarissa looked down at the letter in her hand.
Can I protect Catherine from my father’s fury? Is there any possibility that she will change her mind and return to us?
Clarissa closed her eyes in despair. She knew her sister. She was not someone who did things lightly. There would be no recompense for her now and no chance of saving any of them. Her father came level with her, his spectacles perched low on his nose, the scent of port on his breath. Clarissa handed him the letter without another word.
She did not wish to be there to witness the moment when he discovered the cruel truth. But what else was she to do, hide the letter and leave him to discover it from the gossipmongers?
He looked at her quizzically before his deep brown eyes began to scan the letter. Clarissa could not bear to watch, waiting for the moment when he—
“Good God!” he turned, crushing the letter in his fist. “Jarvis!” he called as the butler loped quickly into the hall behind him, his eyebrows raised in query at his master’s agitated state. “My horse, immediately!”
Clarissa watched her father storm across the hallway, the door slamming so loudly behind him that it shook the whole house. She could only pray that he reached Catherine in time to avert disaster.
There was a gentle patter of feet above her, and Clarissa felt dread swamp her as she saw her mother’s elegant figure appear on the landing balcony.
God help us all.
***
The scandal, when it broke, was worse than any of them could possibly have imagined. It felt to Clarissa as though society had been waiting for it to happen all along. It was almost as if they revelled in her family’s misery.
Her father had done everything in his power to recover Catherine and prevent the match, but he had been far too late. By the time he discovered her whereabouts, she had boarded a ship to Italy as ‘Mrs Harrison’ and was lost—perhaps forever.
