Clarissa could not miss her mother’s true meaning. Lady Bernadette Crompton was a social climber. Their fall from grace as a family had hit her the hardest. Clarissa knew how much her mother longed to enter a room and attract attention for the right reasons again.
Before the scandal, Lady Crompton had been the centre of her circle of friends. She had been a shameless gossip, andeveryone had been eager to talk to her. She had not coped well when she had learned that the same circle she had belonged to for so many years was only as loyal as her money and reputation allowed.
The knot in Clarissa’s stomach now felt like a snake, coiling and turning over on itself. The nausea she had experienced when her mother had first suggested Lord Bolton as a potential match had returned. She attempted to compose herself before her father saw her reaction.
“Lady Eleanor is such a great friend,” Lady Crompton continued. “She has favoured us by inviting us here.”
Before Lady Crompton could exult in Lord Bolton’s virtues for a moment longer, Lord Crompton cleared his throat again, and she was silenced.
“We are all aware of the precarious position we find ourselves in. I believe that we have all been concerned for your prospects, Clary. Despite your obvious attributes and accomplishments, since Warrington’s abandonment, I had not considered that you would find a match such as this.”
Clarissa wanted to scream. There was no match. It was highly likely that Nicholas would leave England and forget her immediately. This was all much too fast and too humiliating to be born. Her parents had jumped to conclusions despite her best efforts to conceal her emotions.
What if Lord Bolton has noticed my regard for him? What if he is repulsed by it?
Her father’s eyes were mixed with hope and concern. As they looked at one another, Clarissa could feel the heavy weight of responsibility on her shoulders that she had carried for so long.
She could barely remember a time before Catherine had left. All was blurred and forgotten in the wake of such a disaster. To her, it seemed as if the entirety of her family’s fortunes, happiness and success rested with her.
The panic in her chest fluttered to the surface so quickly she could not prevent it. Her mother’s vibrating figure, all but bouncing off the furnishings, did not help matters.
“Papa, I can assure you, you are much mistaken. I have no interest in Lord Bolton,” she said desperately, the lie falling easily from her lips. “You cannot be ignorant of his reputation. I most certainly am not.” She cast a glance toward her mother. “Lord Bolton is a known rake. Given the circumstances, he would hardly be a suitable person for me to attach myself to. Someone of his experience would not be a candidate I would seriously consider. He is accustomed to flirtation perhaps, but I have seen no evidence of any true regard for me.”
Save for a touching of hands that still burns my skin.
She was aware of the irony in her words. She was using Lord Bolton’s rakish behaviour to justify rejecting him. Yet every time their eyes met across a room, her heart would skip a beat in her chest.
“I could not risk such a connection and have no plans to entertain it,” she concluded.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Clarissa,” her mother spat, “you speak as if he were a murderer. All men have their rakish ways, why I am sure even your father had his share of flirtations before he settled down with me.” Clarissa watched her father turn pale with anger at that comment, but her mother barrelled on. “Lord Bolton will settle down, all men do. He is by far the best prospect you can ever hope for, and you must not—”
“My dear,” Lord Crompton interrupted, gently touching his wife’s arm. “We should not labour the point. Clary has told us of her intentions, or lack thereof; we should leave it at that.”
Lady Crompton opened and closed her mouth in shock. Clarissa did not meet her eyes. Looking at the heavily patterned carpet beneath her feet, she wished she had never come to the party at all.
“We should all head to dinner,” her father stated, and Clarissa could not get out of the room quickly enough.
Not only did she have to contend with her confusing and unwanted feelings for Lord Bolton, but she now had the added pressure of her mother’s expectations. A good match would secure their future—yet she could not believe Lord Bolton was the answer. Her own sister had had her head turned by the wrong man, and look where that had left them all.
***
At dinner, Clarissa was placed opposite Lord Bolton, who looked unfairly handsome. He had done something with his hair that made him look almost regal. His cravat and cream waistcoat meant that his eyes, already such a vivid green, were startling in the candlelight.
On his right arm was Lady Wilde, who was intent on monopolizing every moment of his time. But on his right was Emily. In that easy way of hers, she was asking him a myriad of questions. It was clear that Emily saw Lord Bolton as akin to an older brother and had no designs upon him herself. To Clarissa’s quiet delight and surprise, Lord Bolton was extremely patient with her and answered every question with great enthusiasm.
He had impeccable manners, always ensuring that he gave time to both ladies as he spoke. Clarissa was seated beside Lord Wilde, who was rather more interested in his glass of wine than he was in conversing with her.
“You see, I have heard that there are wondrous carriages proposed, capable of travelling at great speeds along iron rails,” Emily was saying as she extolled the marvels of modern engineering.”
“Indeed, though I believe it may not be as simple as it sounds. I attended a lecture on the subject not long ago. Such contraptions rely on intricate machinery and a great deal ofpower to function. It is said that the motion is achieved through a system of pulleys and levers, harnessing the energy of the horses or perhaps employing some new contrivance of steam.”
“I would be utterly captivated to witness one in action. None of my friends share my enthusiasm for such advancements, but I can imagine nothing more thrilling than observing the future of travel.”
Clarissa was mesmerized by Lord Bolton. His eyes were fixed on Emily as though she were the most important and interesting person in the world. He murmured his assent at her excitement and agreed that he would very much like to experience that kind of future travel.
“They do seem rather dangerous,” Lady Wilde added, and Lord Bolton turned to her. “I have heard that they can travel at over ten miles per hour. That seems exceedingly fast to my mind.”
“You are right, my lady.”
