He looked at Clarissa as she opened the volume, her eyes bright and happy.
At that moment, Nicholas recognized that the true prize he had discovered that day was not the book but his deeper understanding of the lady holding it.
As the treasure hunt ended, his aunt rang the bell for everyone to gather.
As the group emerged from their various places within the house, there was much good-natured grumbling about the quiz master's nephew having won.
However, when they discovered the ingenuity of Eleanor’s game, everyone quite forgot it. She had managed to plant something on every person present, and there was much joy andexcitement as everyone found the clues on their clothing.
Miss Crompton found a note inside her handkerchief. They were all fluttering with excitement, and Nicholas was glad to watch his aunt bask in the praise from everyone present.
And well she might he thought happily, that is the best game I have played in my life.
Soon, the wearied group were all seated around the crackling hearth in the drawing room. The sky was streaked scarlet behind them as the sun set, and despite the cold snap, everyone was warm and cozy. As they sat before the fire, cocoa was brought out, and everyone was furnished with a steaming cup of it.
Nicholas sat a little apart from the others. Many of the ladies in the group complained of feeling the chill, so he sat aside from the fire. It was a good opportunity to watch everyone without being seen. His gaze invariably fell on Miss Crompton.
Her eyes were sparkling as she recounted the final revelation to Rosemary, who was excitedly bouncing on her seat.
By the time Clarissa had reached halfway through the story, the entire room was enraptured by her tail. She was a magnificent storyteller, knowing exactly when to raise suspense and when to dash it to pieces.
He sipped his cocoa, watching her eyes sparkle as she recounted their mad dash back to the house. As he watched her, something shifted in his mind.
When he had first met Miss Crompton, he had seen a charming woman of whose acquaintance he very much wished to be included. Yet now, with the play of the firelight across her face and her enraptured audience, she was suddenly something else entirely.
His feelings had grown beyond anything he had experienced before. He had supposed himself besotted with Victoria, but he recognized now that his feelings for her had been nothingin comparison. When he looked at Miss Crompton, his body yearned for her in a way that astonished him. He found himself wanting her opinion on anything no matter the topic.
He considered himself privileged beyond bearing that she would entertain him, see past his reputation, and see the man beneath.
He had never believed that he would pursue a lady again. The idea of it still terrified him. He had, until today, been happy with being a bachelor. He had not considered taking a wife or falling in love for many years—if at all.
Yet there she sits—the paragon of everything I want in life.
She had settled before him like a perfect snowflake, and he had looked up to find the world a wonderland of possibility.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Clarissa watched Annie fuss with the beads on her gown as she straightened the fabric. She had rediscovered an older charcoal dress with an ochre underlay. It was a very attractive creation, and she felt it complimented her skin tone well.
The beading across the bodice was very fine. She remembered collecting it at the seamstress with Catherine. It had been three weeks before her leaving with Mr Harrison. Now that she considered her sister’s demeanour at the time, on reflection, her activities had been strange.
She had insisted on using her allowance to buy Clarissa this additional gown, telling her how well she looked in it. Catherine herself had chosen the pattern and the colour of the fabric. As Clarissa regarded herself, she missed her sister terribly. What might Catherine say of Lord Bolton? Would she approve?
She would undoubtedly tell Clarissa to follow her heart, just as she had done. Yet what does my heart want?
She had watched many an attraction form across a crowded room. She had listened to endless gossip about marriages or affection between those in her circle. She had always imagined both parties were utterly certain of their feelings. And yet, when it came to her own heart, she was not sure at all.
She had locked away her inner emotions for so long and could not unleash them all at once. She had barely cried for three years, never allowing any emotions to overwhelm her. The thought of letting someone so close again and allowing herself to feel was a worrying prospect.
She had not realised until she met Lord Bolton, just how closed off she had felt since Catherine’s departure. Her mother had often said she looked ‘cold’ at the edges of a room and wouldderide her for her serious expression. Clarissa had always felt her mother rather cruel for saying such things. But perhaps Lady Crompton had a point.
“How would you like your hair today, Miss Crompton?” Annie asked, holding the hairpins in one hand as she ran her fingers through Clarissa’s hair.
“What do you think, Annie?” she asked. Her maid loved to choose how to style it.
Annie smiled. “Perhaps a ribbon today? I have a lovely orange bow that would complement your gown.”
“I am in your hands; thank you, Annie.”
