Yes, she could well imagine the folly such a man could bring if one were witless in one's affections.
“My sister tells me you have known one another since childhood.” Lord Bolton continued, oblivious of her internal battles. “I am sure we met when you were young. I confess I could not recall it. I am much aggrieved.”
Clarissa remembered him. He had been a tall, lanky boy who had ignored her whenever she had visited the Kingston’s. At eleven years older he must have thought young girls very foolish in his youth.
“I do remember you throwing sticks at us once,” she replied, surprising herself with the memory.
“Good Lord, did I? You have my humblest apologies.”
“Oh, do not worry yourself, my Lord; we started it.”
He chuckled. “Two ladies throwing sticks? I am quite affronted.”
“Yes, you were at the time, too. Rosemary tells me the oak tree in your garden has died, which is sad news. We used to climb it recklessly, and I believe your sister lured you outside with the promise of cake. When you emerged, we pelted you with conkers from the branches. Most unseemly.”
Nicholas really did laugh then, his eyes crinkling with delight. That wayward lock of hair fell back to reveal his startlingly green eyes.
“I cannot believe it. My sister has always had mischief running through her veins, but I am sorry she corrupted you.”
Despite herself, Clarissa could not help but laugh at the idea that her demure and kind friend could corrupt anyone.
“I believe my cousin, Miss Emily Crompton, has inherited that mischievous trait. She does enjoy playing games all aboutthe house.”
“I shall have it noted, Miss, and be on my guard.”
They fell into a companionable silence, and Clarissa could not help allowing the feeling of joy their conversation had triggered to spread through her chest.
She glanced about the table, watching Emily speaking to a man with long dark-blond hair on the other side. She believed him to be Lord Henry Addison, though they were yet to be introduced. Emily was politely explaining her choice of ribbons to him, and he was listening with rapt attention. She hid a smile. Emily would spend her entire inheritance on ribbons if Clarissa did not stop her.
As she finished her soup, she noticed Lady Wilde across from her. Though undeniably beautiful, she had rather sharp features, and her gaze was somewhat calculating. Her eyes moved incessantly between Clarissa and Nicholas, and Clarissa felt her gut clench at the thought that she might be being too open with her feelings for him.
She had always been timid and shy around any man, including those who had been her suitors. Now, she was even more mindful of what her sister had done and never wished to prompt cruel comments from those in society who liked to spy on others.
Am I being too bold in my conduct with him? Surely, speaking of our childhood is not improper.
“Miss Kingston tells me you enjoy reading, Miss Crompton. I am rather an avid reader myself, and I wonder if you might have read Lord Byron?”
Clarissa was surprised that a rake should be interested in poetry, but she answered readily despite her surprise.
“Indeed, I think The Giaour is one of the best poems I have read. Although it is rather risqué in places. I do enjoy livid tails of vampires.”
Nicholas smiled. “But surely those are the best parts, Miss Crompton. Such escapism is the spice of life, after all.”
His voice was light but something in his gaze gave her pause. It was the same look from the dance floor, like he had forgotten himself and revealed something he had not intended to. What might this man have to escape from? She wondered.
***
Once the meal was over and Clarissa had repaired to the drawing room with the other ladies, she could not get Lord Bolton out of her mind. She wanted to believe that he was merely being polite with his interest and that she had misinterpreted his charm for kindness.
Either way, she was glad to be away from him briefly to gather her thoughts. It was not to be, however, for although she had sought out a quiet corner in which to rest, she was soon discovered by Rosemary.
Miss Kingston sat beside her, looking like a woman with a secret to impart, and Clarissa was instantly on her guard.
“My brother and you made a very fine couple about the floor,” Rosemary said. Her tone was entirely innocent, but Clarissa’s hackles rose instantly.
She did not like the implication that she and Lord Bolton had been considered a couple. The idea terrified her.
“He was very kind to ask me to dance,” she said quickly. “Was that your doing?”
