His sharp eyes met hers. “Is that so?”
“It is. My mother longs for summer, but I have always loved the snow and ice. The dark days and darker evenings are tiresome, but sitting by the fire watching the logs spit and crackle, warm and content is one of life’s greatest pleasures.”
He was quiet for a while, and when she looked at him, he was smiling.
“I couldn’t agree more,” he confessed.
“But surely you have not experienced many harsh winters in Europe?” she added.
“You are quite right. I have not encountered too many, but when I was younger, I always preferred the winter months. The idea of Persephone leaving our world, only to return on the first day of spring, was one of my favourite stories. I like that the world sleeps, just as we do, to gather its strength for the seasons to come.”
Clarissa nodded as they passed by the others on their second circle.
“I am also rather partial to a thunderstorm,” she confessed. Lord Bolton chuckled as he glanced at her, his expression unguarded and delighted.
“There is nothing like being tucked up in bed listening to a storm raging against the windows,” he said. There was less than a foot between them now, and Clarissa suddenly felt that the open space and wide country around them was very small.
Clarissa found herself embroiled in a fantasy once more, but this time, she was not the source of her family’s disgrace. She imagined just the kind of intimate setting she had described. Lord Bolton and herself sitting beside a fire, speaking of their interests as she learned of the real man behind the rake.
“Oh dear!”
She looked around as a shape came into her peripheral vision at a rapid pace, and Clarissa only just managed to skate out of the path of Lady Wilde as she hurtled headlong into Lord Bolton’s path. He had no choice but to catch her before she fell onto the bank before them.
Clarissa was utterly dismayed as Lady Wilde collapsed against Lord Bolton’s body, his legs coming out from beneathher as she exclaimed in alarm.
Lord Bolton’s strong arms lifted her back to her feet, but the action of righting her brought their faces very close together. Clarissa saw their eyes meet. Lady Wilde smiled widely at him as he slowly released her, and she began apologizing profusely.
“I had not realised the speed with which I was going, and suddenly, the bank was all upon me!” she said, looking very embarrassed. However, Clarissa wondered at her lack of control as she had been skating quite perfectly about the pond until that moment.
“No matter, my Lady, are you injured?” Lord Bolton asked with concern.
Lady Wilde was still incredibly close to him and only distanced herself when Lord Bolton himself stepped away from her to right his balance upon his skates.
“I am uninjured, my Lord, but perhaps a little unsteady on my feet.”
“Let me give you my arm, and we shall skate back together,” Lord Bolton replied, the very picture of a gentleman as Lady Wilde wound her arm in his.
Clarissa moved out of the way as Lord Bolton moved to skate past her.
“My apologies, Miss Crompton. I shall return to you momentarily.”
“Not at all; be sure to make Lady Wilde comfortable; I shall continue alone,” she said with a brightness in her voice that she did not feel. She watched them skate away, Lady Wilde’s long blonde hair contrasting with Lord Bolton’s dark, their arms remaining linked together all the way around the pond.
Clarissa followed at a leisurely pace, noticing how well Lady Wilde was now skating without any suggestion that she might lose her balance.
Clarissa kept her expression blank as she continued pastthem as Lord Bolton helped Lady Wilde to the edge. She felt betrayed by her weakness and irrationally angry that Lady Wilde had again insinuated herself into Lord Bolton’s good graces. Since she had arrived at the manor, it did not feel that the woman had given him a moment’s peace.
CHAPTER TWELVE
As the afternoon drew to a close the skating party made their way back to the manor. Nicholas was at the rear, having lingered overlong at removing his skates to prevent Lady Wilde from attaching herself to him again.
He was content to stroll without a companion, listening to the crunch of his shoes over the ice. He kept his eyes fixed on Clarissa’s retreating form as she walked beside Emily Crompton back to the house.
Nicholas still felt invigorated from their time together. She was an excellent skater, far and above the rest of the party in poise and elegance. He had felt utterly content as they had made their way around the pond.
When they were in relative solitude, she seemed to finally open up to him. He had caught her look many times as they had conversed easily. The picture she had conjured of sitting beside a fire, perhaps with a cup of tea, listening to a storm raging above her, had captured his imagination.
In his mind, they sat together, listening to the pattering rain and the rumble of thunder, alone and happy in each other's company.
