CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning, Clarissa contemplated her reflection. Even after a full night’s sleep, she still looked flushed, and she could not deny that she anticipated the day with a great mixture of feelings.
She wanted to see Lord Bolton again. But she also wanted to keep her distance from him.
Nothing seemed simple, and as she stared at her face, looking back at her, she could still feel the prickling heat against her palm from the touch of his hand the night before.
She imagined a fantasy of Lord Bolton and herself at a ball as man and wife. It was a silly illusion, but it helped to settle her mind.
She forced herself to picture his wandering eyes as he inevitably grew bored with his wife. She imagined the whispers about them building to a crescendo as her ill-fated choice of husband subjected her and her family to endless gossip all over again.
She shook herself, straightening her sleeve and resolving that today she would be strong, and she would only give a little of herself away to him. It was almost certain he would find Lady Wilde far more diverting, and she had to believe that had been his intention all along.
Otherwise, I will become quite mad from going back and forth on this matter for the remainder of his time here.
She went down to breakfast to Lady Eleanor's happy announcement that the afternoon’s activities would be spent at the frozen pond near her estate. They would be skating as a group on the thick ice that had formed over the winter months.
Clarissa sipped her tea, glancing furtively at Nicholas on theother side of the room. His easy smile flashed as he charmed the other guests and made many of them laugh with his wit.
She could not help feeling a pang of longing that she was not privy to the joke or that she was not in his company and then chided herself fiercely for reneging on her own promise so quickly.
Clarissa spent much of the morning with the other ladies completing their needlework. Although she had always been good enough at sewing, her embroidery was erratic that day, her stitches uneven as her mind wandered through all the possibilities before her.
“Well,” said a voice behind her, “I have heard that he favours Lady Wilde.”
Clarissa’s ears pricked up as Lady Bartholemew spoke in muted tones to Lady Garriton.
“They spoke for some time after Snapdragon, and she is one of the most beautiful women I ever saw. He has returned to the estate after many years away and she is wildly wealthy. I cannot believe it would not be a favourable match.”
Clarissa hissed in a breath as her needle stabbed deep into her finger and spotted her sewing. She glanced about, hoping no one had observed her, only to be met with Rosemary’s concerned gaze from across the table. She smiled and dabbed at the spot with her finger to try and blot out the stain.
This is why any hopes I have pinned on a known rake are beyond foolish. She told herself sternly. I will be undone by him, and I will have only myself to blame.
She prayed that Catherine had not suffered the same fate. What if Mr Harrison had deceived her sister, and he had now run away and left her, finding a new object for his affection?
How she longed for Catherine.
She had not had anyone to confide in for so long, and although her sister’s own decisions in life had not always beenenviable, she was an inordinately sensible person. She would have known just what to say about Lord Bolton.
The very reason I am in this situation is because of Catherine, she thought irritably. Am I so weak that I would forgive her merely to benefit from her council?
She put down her sewing in irritation and went to find her cousin. Emily was always able to raise her spirits.
After luncheon, the party made their way down to the large pond on the edge of Lady Eleanor’s estate. The pond was surrounded by a vast, sweeping hillside culminating in a shallow valley that was utterly beautiful to behold.
Long grasses bobbed about in the light breeze, the ground at their base utterly covered with snow. Little had disturbed the white blanket that carpeted everything about them, and the pond was covered with sparkling ice.
Clarissa, wrapped up in her pelisse and fur stole, walked arm in arm with Emily. She was much amused by Emily's shivering frame beside her and felt so sorry for her that she eventually shared her stole. Emily gratefully placed one hand into it, groaning at its warmth.
“You should have brought a scarf along with your hat. Your neck is bare,” Clarissa chided gently.
“I did not think it so cold.”
“The ground is covered with snow, Emily. What did you think the temperature would be?”
“But I will be hot when we are skating, and I did not wish to bring too much with me.”
Clarissa smiled. “I cannot argue with that. You are right. You will soon be warm. Here. Have the stole for now; I am quite warm as it is.”
