I have many cupboards but no clothes,
I can get hot but have no sun,
I’m full of dishes, but I’m not a cupboard,
What am I?
They quickly ascertained that they would find the next clue in the kitchen. Clarissa walked behind Lord Bolton, her mind running over the words he had used. They were a good pairing. It was an alarming thing to recognize, but there was no denying it. She had not felt this easy or content around anyone since Catherine had left. It was as though a kinship between them had existed even before they met.
She could only describe the feeling as two puzzle pieces coming together. You looked at the piece in your hand and the space it might occupy, but the picture only became clear when they were placed together.
The kitchen led them to three more rooms in the house, each clue becoming more complex as they continued. Clarissa could hear great shrieks of laughter and joy from the rest of the house as the pairs encountered one another.
There was a healthy level of competition between them all, but she and Nicholas were neck and neck with Lady Wilde and Lord Addison.
Lord Bolton and Lord Addison had a hilarious turn of phrase whenever they met. Clarissa was rather scandalized by the rude way in which they poked at one another, but the depth of their friendship was obvious. Lady Wilde attempted to join in their banter, but most of her contributions fell short of the acidic way the men talked.
By the time they reached the final clue, even Clarissa was keen to win. Lord Bolton’s enthusiasm had never waned, and shehad enjoyed the privilege of his company for a good hour and a half. They had discussed the arts and literature, and they had learned that they both had a love of poetry.
Lord Bolton had seen many plays in Europe during his time there, and Clarissa was delighted to find that he adored Shakespeare almost as much as she did.
By the time they reached the final clue, their friendly discussion had never faltered, and Clarissa was dismayed and happy in equal measure at the connection she felt growing between them. It was becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile the rake of her imaginings with the man she saw before her.
She wondered how Catherine’s attachment had started, how the spark had sprung between them. Perhaps her sister had been as guarded as Clarissa felt but simply could not hold back from the need that pulsed within her.
As they walked through the house, it was as though the eyes of the many portraits they passed were upon her, the whisperings of society rising to a crescendo as they watched her resolve falter.
Her guard was slipping. She was teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nicholas was in his element. Spending all these hours with Clarissa was wonderful. No one was there to interrupt them, so he could bask in her full attention and loved every minute of it.
By the afternoon, he was more captivated by Miss Crompton with each passing moment. Her intelligence shone through at every point of the day.
It was not just the clues she had solved so masterfully, but her quick wit had him laughing more than once. She had often found him amusing and particularly enjoyed his teasing of Henry.
As always, Henry had risen to the occasion and was outrageous with his insults. He knew better than to direct any at the ladies, and Nicholas had born them happily, particularly when Miss Crompton had found them so funny.
He was unsure what he made of Henry being paired with Lady Wilde. After a time, it seemed a contrivance that they should cross paths quite so regularly. Nicholas was becoming increasingly irritated with the lady, and he knew that he needed to school his features for her not to take offense.
Miss Crompton may have been happy to be in his company, but she was guarded and careful in everything she did. The maid that followed them throughout the afternoon was a boon and a curse. Nicholas longed to be alone with her, for when they interacted, a look of uncertainty or sadness always followed her smiles.
The penultimate clue of the day took them into the snow-covered gardens. Since he had looked out of the window only a few hours before, all the paths had been cleared. He was sorry for it. The lawns were decidedly less beautiful with thecobblestones dotted about. He much preferred the thick blanket of white that covered everything beneath it. If only there were such a thing for his own reputation. If only he could remove it from the world.
What has it cost me? And what do I have to show for it? Nothing at all except some stolen memories of those I can barely recall.
“What flows without end, yet aims for the sky?” Clarissa was saying, striking out across the lawn and reading the clue again as she seemed to alight on an idea.
“Perhaps one of these glorious fir trees?” Nicholas attempted, but she shook her head.
“It flows,” she said, looking back at him with a grin. “I believe we are looking for a fountain.”
“Aha! Well then, I have an advantage, for I know just where it is.”
“Lead the way,” she said happily, and he barked out a laugh as he led them beneath the high arch of the privet hedge at the garden's border and through to a small square. In the center was a black fountain. It had once been pale Yorkshire stone, but the edges of it were now darkened, with time and age behind them.
The way was rather uneven, and Nicholas offered his arm to Clarissa for support. As her hand rested against him, he could not prevent the shiver of need that ran through him to have her so close.
