“Not at all. It is one of my favourite markets at this time of year. The variety of cheese they have on display are simply divine.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, and Clarissa found herself laughing. Sometimes, Lady Eleanor had just the same look as her nephew when she was being mischievous.
“My Lord, you must accompany me to the puppet show?” Lady Wilde stated boldly, stepping forward and looping her arm with his. Lord Bolton tensed visibly, his eyes flitting about their group swiftly as Lady Wilde preened beside him.
“Alas, my dear lady,” Lord Bolton said, extricating his arm with some difficulty. “I have already promised Miss Crompton I will take her to the show.”
Clarissa stared at him in amazement but quickly schooled her expression as best she could as Lady Wilde’s icy glare turned on her. Clarissa was caught between concern and excitement as Lord Bolton offered his arm, and she had no choice but to take it.
She knew very well that this would lead to gossip. Never had Lord Bolton made such an obvious preference for her company before. On the one hand, she was overwhelmed with joy that he would choose her over Lady Wilde and, on the other, terrified that the more time she spent with him, the deeper her feelings would become.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nicholas could see the surprise on Clarissa’s face as she took his arm. He had never been happier to get away from Lady Wilde. The woman was insatiable.
As they walked away, Lady Wilde muttered something incoherent, and Nicholas was aware she would not think kindly of him choosing Miss Crompton over her. As they walked towards the puppet show, Nicholas was aware of many curious glances alighting on them.
After looking at some of the faces, he realized that his reputation preceded him. Even here in a village of this size, his behaviour was known. It was a humiliating realization, and for the second time in as many days, he felt real shame for the lifestyle he had previously led.
He wondered if Miss Crompton was aware of the looks being sent their way and if she felt uncomfortable being on his arm. His words to Henry loomed in his mind once again. If there were any way to make her see him in a different light, he would do it.
The puppet show was in a medium-sized red and white striped tent. Several people were gathering ahead the start. The children he had joked with earlier were at the front as they waited for the performers.
It was a traditional production of Punch & Judy, with a policeman, a crocodile, and a long trail of stuffed sausages that hung down into the crowd. The children were delighted with the show. He turned to Clarissa to remark on how sweet it was to see their joy, only to find exactly the same expression on her face.
As the police officer proceeded to hit the crocodile with his truncheon, it was not just the children who were laughing. Clarissa was so diverted that tears streamed down her face asshe lost herself in hysterics. It was one of the most wonderful things he had ever witnessed.
“This is ridiculous,” Miss Crompton admitted. “I believe Judy is about to get her revenge.”
Sure enough, a high, shrill voice erupted through the crowd as Punch was battered about the head with a stuffed frying pan. Clarissa, who had somewhat recovered, continued smiling for many minutes. Nicholas could not help but look upon her frequently, noting the freckles across the top part of her nose, the dimples in her cheeks, and her long eyelashes.
He still had not seen them covered in snowflakes, and it was a sight he longed to witness.
The women he had met on his travels had been acquaintances or lovers. Few had meant a great deal to him, and he had never spent a long time with any of them. Indeed, to his shame, he could little remember the ladies in question. Their faces merged together. The time he had spent with Clarissa seemed a poor substitute for the time he could have invested in finding true happiness.
Miss Crompton was unique, and he was trying to discover what it was about her that captured him so.
In the end he contented himself with sitting a little behind her. As she laughed and murmured with the crowd, he watched her, not the show. He had no idea what was happening in the performance. He was beginning to understand how little true happiness he had known in his life until now.
As the show ended, Miss Crompton turned back to him with a wild smile.
“Did you enjoy it?” she asked.
“I did,” he said softly. “Very much.”
Taking her arm, they made their way out of the crowds who were rising from their seats and headed back towards the market. As they went, however, there was an announcement thata folk dance was about to begin in the village square.
Suddenly, Miss Emily Crompton appeared beside Clarissa.
“Clary, could we go to the square? I long to see a dance. I have never watched one outdoors before.”
Miss Crompton turned to him, and he nodded enthusiastically.
“Lead the way, Miss Emily,” he said happily, and they made their way through the milling crowds. They walked through a stream of people, all of whom seemed to be heading in the same direction. Nicholas felt like a fish following the currents of a river.
As they reached the square, Miss Crompton’s hand was wrenched from his as Miss Emily pulled her enthusiastically into the centre of the throng.
Nicholas was dismayed to lose her and followed them eagerly, ensuring they did not miss a step and fall amidst the sea of people. As he watched, Miss Crompton’s face was transported once more into a stranger. A lady who was not often seen in company, a happy, excitable, and gloriously beautiful face within the crowd.
As she danced, her cheeks flushed, and she kept a solid hold on her cousin’s hand to avoid losing her. They frolicked about merrily for several minutes, and Nicholas was entirely caught up in the music. He could only see one face in the dancing bodies all about him, one face that stood out to him above all the others. For an endless second it was as though she moved more slowly through time, her face captured ahead of him like an angel in the dark.
