“Oh Heavens,” Lady Crompton scoffed, moving aroundClarissa and pulling her to face her. “It would be a prestigious marriage for you. It would bring our family back into the heart of the Ton. You must see that.”
Marriage, Clarissa felt as though she might collapse at the speed with which things were moving.
“Mama,” Clarissa managed, her voice thin as her throat constricted, “he has a reputation. The last thing we need is to be associated with such a man. He has only just returned to England and plans to leave again in less than two weeks.”
“He told you so? Well, plans can change. And all rakes settle down eventually, my dear. He was quite attentive. You must encourage him. He is the Earl of Bernewood. The estate is vast, and so is his fortune. Think of what this could do for us.”
Lady Crompton would not be reasoned with, and despite Clarissa’s repeated protests, she would not hear that Lord Nicholas Bolton was not a perfect candidate for a husband.
As her mother left her, Clarissa’s chest was tight with anxiety and uncertainty. She could not take in a full breath, and the composed woman in the mirror who had stood there only seconds before was replaced by a frightened girl—trapped between her own fears and her mother’s expectations.
***
When Clarissa gathered herself and entered the breakfast room a little later, she was gratified to see Emily and Rosemary already seated. Rosemary, who had dark hair similar to her brother’s, wore a dark red gown of burgundy that suited her very well. Emily looked up as Clarissa entered and gave her a bright smile.
“Good morning, Clary,” she said brightly. “Have you seen the snow? I believe another foot at least fell overnight.”
“I have. I am surprised I do not find you running about in it,” Clarissa said as she sat down.
“I have never liked the cold,” Rosemary said with an exaggerated shiver. “I fear your cousin will have to enjoy all the snow on my behalf. I shall stay indoors where it is warm and cozy.”
“I could not agree more,” Clarissa teased, and Emily looked at her reproachfully.
“You love the snow,” her cousin protested. “I shall force you out.”
“Perhaps. But only if the paths are clear. I have no intention of having wet feet all day.”
The breakfast was excellent, with kippers, boiled eggs, and mountains of toast. Clarissa was not used to such an abundance of food. She had always been sparing at breakfast, knowing that her father did not eat a great deal in the mornings and her mother never ate much at all. To be presented with such an array of dishes not supplied by her accounts was a decadence that Clarissa took full advantage of.
By the time Rosemary’s aunt began to outline her plans for the day, Clarissa was on her third boiled egg.
“Now, after we have broken our fast, we have much to do, ladies,” Lady Eleanor piped up from the head of the table. She had layered the toast in her hand with such a thick layer of butter that Clarissa had to wonder whether it might taste like toast at all. “We will be making Christmas decorations this morning, and I have laid out all the supplies in the drawing room. I am loathe to go out when the weather is as cold as it is, and I am glad that I planned for so many indoor activities.” She took a bite with some relish and gave Clarissa a wink as she did so.
Clarissa hid a smile. She liked Lady Eleanor very much. She had a playful nature and was always excited to try new things.
The far door of the breakfast room opened, and Lord Bolton entered. He looked impossibly dashing in his morning jacket, with a loose cravat about his neck. His hair swept back in a loosestyle that suited him perfectly.
Despite knowing he would join them for breakfast, Clarissa was caught off guard by his presence. As she looked up at him, their eyes connected, and Clarissa fumbled her teacup, spilling tea all over the saucer beneath it.
Furious at her clumsiness and her foolishness at being so distracted by the man, she chastised herself viciously for such an obvious reaction. Lord Bolton appeared not to notice, sitting with his aunt at the head of the table. Lord Addison came to sit opposite them, and Emily quickly engaged him in continuing their discussion the night before. Both Henry and Emily adored chess, and Emily was speaking to him of a new move she had read about. Clarissa listened in amused silence, occasionally catching Rosemary’s eye, who looked bored stiff by the topic.
As breakfast came to an end, the ladies gathered in the drawing room to make their decorations. Clarissa was pleased that Nicholas had not joined them, and she was seated with Rosemary and Emily. They were making kissing boughs, and each table had an array of greenery, including holly, ivy, and mistletoe.
Emily’s lack of creativity made Clarissa feel that her own bough was rather better formed than the others. Her confidence was wiped clean away, however, when they were joined by Madeline Wilde.
The lady walked across the room with quiet purpose and placed herself at their table with a warm smile at Rosemary. It was returned, though Rosemary’s was not quite so pleasant.
Madeline sat beside Clarissa, who found her proximity intimidating. Something about her looks across the dinner table had unnerved Clarissa, and she did not like the way her eyes kept skirting about the table.
Madeline Wilde was very well turned out again. From the little Clarissa’ knew of her history—which Lady Crompton hadwhispered to her the night before—Lady Wilde had been left well-moneyed after her husband’s death. She had exquisite taste. Her dresses were of the absolute latest in fashionable designs. Clarissa was even more aware of her own dress, which, apart from the alterations she had made, was three seasons old.
“Miss Kingston, I cannot understand how you get your bough to be so upright,” Madeline remarked, holding hers up. “Mine is flopping about all over the place.”
To Clarissa’s eyes, it was perfect. As Emily and Rosemary protested its beauty, Clarissa could not help but think the lady’s comment was by design. Madeline’s shrewd gaze met hers and she inflicted her with a tight smile. Clarissa was under no illusions that Madeline Wilde disliked her. She had no qualms in returning the feeling in the strongest terms.
“Do you know, I asked your brother to play cards with me yesterday evening and he refused in favour of that infernal game of charades,” Lady Wilde said to Rosemary.
She kept her voice low so as not to insult their host.
