Clarissa’s eyes moved to Lord Bolton.
Yet more contradictions about the man only confused her further. Who was it who broke his heart? She wondered. What woman would ever refuse him?
Her mother was also looking at Lord Bolton from the other side of the room, speaking in hushed tones to Lady Eleanor, and Clarissa felt rage growing within her. She was so tired of people speaking about her behind her back.
Before Clarissa could say more, Lady Eleanor clapped her hands to get the attention of the room.
“Tonight’s entertainment will be a game of snapdragon!” she said loudly, and there were several murmurings of pleasure from those present. Rosemary smiled happily.
“Oh, I do love that game,” she said as they all moved to the centre of the room.
On a high table, a bowl filled with brandy had been placed. Within it floated a multitude of raisins. Clarissa had never played the game before and was astonished when a servant came forward with a match and set the bowl alight. The leaping blue and red flames were beautiful to watch as they licked around the side of the bowl.
“Whoever picks out the most raisins will be the victor!” Lady Eleanor proclaimed, and the whole party gathered around the bowl.
The leaping flames illuminated their faces in a ghostly blue light as the alcohol burned merrily between them.
Clarissa watched her mother, father, and Lady Eleanor expertly stab their hands into the bowl and retreat with their raisins, popping them into their mouths with aplomb and apparent relish.
She enjoyed the spectacle of the thing, and the servants had blown out all the other candles in the room, giving everything anethereal glow as they played.
Lady Eleanor declared that it was Clarissa’s turn next, and she stepped up to bowl. Despite her misgivings at reaching through fire, she was determined to have her turn. But when she was close to the flames, she lost her nerve, uncertain how she would not be set alight by the action.
Her breath caught in her throat as someone came to stand beside her. Lord Bolton was suddenly at her elbow, his presence both calming and alarming. His proximity made her chest tight, and her lungs struggled for a full breath.
CHAPTER TEN
Nicholas found himself beside her before he had fully thought through his actions.
He had seen her pause; the flames reflected in her wide brown eyes, and he had acted on instinct. Something about her made him want to protect her. He did not wish to hinder her, and he did not believe her incapable, but he wanted to offer a helping hand should she need it.
Although in the centre of the circle, the crowd around them were talking amongst themselves. Some were watching, but most were distracted, waiting for their turn.
He was able to move a little closer to her and could feel how tense she was.
“Have you played the game before?” he asked, his voice low in the bustling room.
“Never,” she whispered.
“My advice would be to raise your hand much higher than you believe is necessary. It is all in the pace with which you approach the flames. Do not linger long and choose your target wisely. Often, one goes for the centre, but in fact, the opposite edge is easier.”
Clarissa stepped up to the bowl, and Nicholas watched carefully as she raised her hand just as he had suggested. He held his breath as her fingers hovered above the flames, the light shimmering over her porcelain skin. She took a deep breath, plunged her hand into the fiery bowl, and scooped up a raisin as though she played the game every day.
She held it aloft with a cry of triumph receiving much applause from those around her. Nicholas felt an ache in his jaw, as he was smiling so widely.
As she stepped back, her hand brushed against his, and the instant spark of connection ignited on his skin once more. He felt as though the fire from the bowl had lit up his whole body, and he gasped as he met her gaze.
For a long, stolen moment, the room about them faded away. He was lost in those deep, brown eyes, taking in the perfection of her face and the exuberant smile she wore. Her beauty was only accentuated by the dim flickering light from the bowl.
It could only have been a second before they stepped away, even though it had felt like an eternity to him.
Nicholas watched as she ate the raisin gleefully, keeping his smile in place. But within himself, Nicholas was in turmoil for the remainder of the game. He participated mechanically, having played many times before, his rakish mask firmly in place.
His mind was swirling madly as each person about him took their turn, his eyes returning time and again to Miss Crompton.
He could not help but examine her delicate features and the animation in her body as she came alive at the game. The excitement and danger inherent in plunging one's hand into a flaming bowl had animated her even more.
The brightness in her eyes and the joy in her gaze were a sight to behold. Nicholas could not understand why the entire company was not captivated by her. He was unable to look away for any length of time and was at a loss as to how he had not instantly seen how exquisite she was.
