Why am I dancing with this man? He is the very person I should be avoiding. She continued to scold herself relentlessly, her thoughts spinning as madly as the dancers all around them. I certainly should not be imagining him holding me closer than he is.
Finally, when she could hold back no longer, she moved her gaze to his face. He was already looking at her, and there was a softness in his eyes that was exhilarating and confusing all at once. Was this truly a man who could never be tied down? Who had cast off the aspersions of society without a second thought?
He did not seem like a rake. Something about him felt genuine. It seemed, for all the world, like he had a secret. It was a secret that Clarissa felt she shared. He appeared to be playing a part, pretending to be someone he was not to conceal who he truly wished to be. She understood that position well.
As the dance ended, she realized they had not exchanged a single word. Yet she felt as though they had had a silent exchange that said more than words ever could.
Clarissa curtsied, unable to meet his eyes as she attempted a small smile before he led her from the dance floor. Rosemary was all smiles as she returned, lively and filled with the joys of the season. She watched Nicholas’s back disappear through the crowd after he had murmured a farewell and had to drag her eyes away.
The snow was falling outside the window in light flurries, making her feel lucky and happy to be safe and warm in such a fine home. She was glad they would not have to travel home if the snow continued, and at least her mother would not be grumbling about having to burn their wood now that they were enjoying Lady Eleanor’s hospitality.
Clarissa listened to Rosemary’s chatter as she glanced about the room, still feeling the fluttering uncertainty in her chest. Nicholas was taller than many of the gentlemen present, and picking him out from the crowd was not difficult. He was all charm and politeness, defying her limited knowledge of his character. She was confused and feeling lost by the time the dinner bell sounded, and they made their way through the room.
She pulled in a sharp breath as Nicholas strode through the crowd toward them. She thought he must have something to say to Rosemary, but instead, he offered her his arm.
“I believe I have the pleasure of your company for a second time, Miss Crompton; please allow me to escort you to dinner.”
She hooked her arm in his, the room suddenly seemingoverly bright. The noise around them dimmed as she moved with him through the milling guests and into the dining room.
It was beautifully decorated, with high ceilings. The long dining room table was immaculate, everything set out just so. There were more sprigs of holly at every place setting. The napkins were a myriad of golds, reds, and greens with candles down the centre.
The snow outside the windows made everything seem more magical. The bright fire warmed the room in a pleasing glow, filling the air with its crackling.
Nicholas led Clarissa to the centre of the table, where she was placed opposite Lady Wilde. She was a woman wearing a striking emerald gown, who Clarissa had not yet become acquainted with. Her appearance made Clarissa feel plain in comparison.
Nicholas ensured she was seated comfortably before sitting beside her, and as soon as he was in position, she felt the same lightness of spirit in his company.
She chided herself inwardly for the familiarity she already felt with the man. Considering she knew very little of him, she was surprised by how easy she felt in his company. Perhaps this was his manner, however. He might be skilled at putting women at their ease.
As the starters were served, she noticed him glance at her and turned to him to be polite.
“Have you recently returned, Lord Bolton?”
He smiled that charming smile. “I have. I had not been back two days before, but my aunt was already ensuring I would be in attendance for this event. She is a ruthless organizer.” His words were playful, and he shot an affectionate glance at his aunt, who was in a deep debate with Clarissa’s father at the end of the table, their heads bowed together.
“How did you like the continent, my Lord? You were therefor a number of years, were you not?”
“Indeed. I liked it very well. However, something about the English countryside at Christmas drew me back. I can never feel it is truly Christmas without a warm fire before me.”
“I agree,” Clarissa replied. “I have always enjoyed the winter months. I know many dislike the snow, but I find it a magical time to explore. I saw three and twenty cobwebs in our garden last evening, sparkling with diamonds from the dew that had settled. It is a beautiful time of year.”
She stopped speaking, embarrassed to have revealed so much. Her imagination had run away with her again. She was usually rather quiet at formal occasions these days, and she fancied that she had lost her head with the giddiness of being back in the company of others.
Nicholas was contemplating her with a wry smile, his eyes twinkling.
“Do you know, I couldn’t agree more. It is the best time of year. I am only sorry I must leave it so soon.”
Relief flooded her as she realized his presence would be briefer than she had previously thought.
“You leave England so soon?”
“If my aunt has her way, I will be here forever. But I always intended to see Italy, and I would love the chance to do so before I return permanently. My steward has handled the estate admirably in my absence, and the House of Lords does very well by proxy. I will return, but not quite yet. No matter how alluring the sights of England remain.”
His eyes moved over her face as he said those words and Clarissa could feel the flush creep over her cheeks again. He was entirely disarming, and she could well imagine a woman getting swept away by him.
‘I can deny this no longer. I am starting to have feelings, and I am unable to hide it.’
Her sister’s spiked hand was suddenly prominent in her mind, and she recalled her own shaking fingers as she had held the letter that spelled her ruin.
