"Then you knew it was me!"
"Yes.” His expression was serious. “Did you really think I would not know who I was kissing?"
Clarissa just shook her head.
"Of course, I knew. Did you enjoy my kisses? There, and later?"
"I—yes."
"I was sure of it, but..."
"But what?"
He leaned over and kissed her softly, gently, on the lips. “Don't ask. Just listen to me and allow me to finish."
She nodded.
"I realized that the women I met lately in London bored me to tears, no matter how lovely or willing they were. I could guess what they would say or do beforehand. Professional beauties know how to entice men into falling at their feet whether it is for a night, a week or longer. I knew what I was getting whenever I chose a new lady. There was no excitement, no real relish with anticipation in flirtation or setting up an assignation when I already knew I would be sadly disappointed and bored silly.
"But I found out that you were nothing like that, my dear. You looked and acted differently ... not actually naïve but ... there seemed to be an air of innocence surrounding you even when you responded so generously to my kisses."
"What if you are bored with me later on, Alex? I am quite ignorant about how to go on in your tonnish world. I am a country girl at heart. I have never been to London. My manners are proper, thank you, only because of my mother's careful tutoring. But my clothes are sturdy, dowdy, and nondescript, and..."
"I shall buy you far more dashing and beautiful gowns, I promise you. Plus female fripperies, or whatever else you want. Your beauty shines from your eyes as well as from the silken body I saw in the folly and still wish to touch, taste, and caress at my leisure."
He watched as color deepened Clarissa's cheeks.
Alex smiled down at her. “I plan to teach you everything I know about making love. Apart from what else we have in common. Right here and now, I want you desperately, Clarissa. I did not know how much I needed you before now. When will you surrender to me fully?"
"I want to be your wife, Alex—"
"Then say yes, because I will not allow you to say no. Your father can perform the ceremony...” He stopped in mid-sentence. “Blast it! I suppose I must ask his permission first, don't I?"
A series of footsteps crunching across the foyer had the marquess jumping to his feet from where he sat next to Clarissa.
"Clary? Do you have a visitor?” Mrs. Oliver called through the door to the parlor. She tapped a few times before pushing the door wide. Her arms were loaded with packages after her shopping trip to the village.
"Oh my! A gentleman caller? Well, now. Shall I bring in the tea cart?"
Clarissa's cheeks burned, but she rose and said to the housekeeper, “If you will, Mrs. Oliver. The Marquess of Chester stopped by to ... to inform me how things are going at the Priory ... with Jane.” Clarissa's words stumbled onward. “And with Lady Beatrice, of course."
Mrs. Oliver, flustered by the vision of a marquess in her master's parlor, dipped an awkward curtsy. But her arms and hands were full and she wavered slightly with the attempt.
"Gracious! Do forgive me, m'lord.” She turned to Clarissa. “I will return with the refreshments right off.” She rushed away toward the kitchen.
* * * *
Clarissa's father arrived close behind his housekeeper. He stuck his nose into the parlor, having seen the fine thoroughbred tethered to a post in front of the cottage. “I see we have a visitor,” he announced with a soft-voiced query in his tone as he stepped into the room.
Alex stood in front of the large window with his back half turned toward the door. Clarissa had sunk back onto the sofa while they waited for the housekeeper to return with the tea tray.
"And who have we here?” the Reverend Manning inquired, smiling, his glance angling toward his daughter for an introduction.
Alex turned, his gaze focused on Clarissa's father, and quickly approached the older man to present himself before Clarissa had an opportunity to do so. “I am Alex Warner, Reverend Marrick. And I am pleased to meet you."
Alex reached out to shake hands with Roland Manning, Baron Bosworth.
"My name is Manning, not Marrick, my lord. But, Warner?” Roland muttered. “I seem to recognize the name. Are you local?"
"Father,” Clarissa jumped into the conversation. “This is Alexander Warner. The Marquess of Chester. He owns Trury Priory. It was for him whom I have been working as a governess to his daughter the past weeks."
Alex eyed Clarissa, a puzzled look in his eyes. But he said nothing about the difference in surnames.
"Of course, of course. I thought I recognized the title if not the name. Welcome to our home, m'lord.” Her father looked toward Clarissa. “Have you asked for refreshments, daughter?"
"Mrs. Oliver is bringing in the tray, Father. Please join us."
Clarissa threw a subtle glance of contrition at Alex, blinked at his raised eyebrow, and shook her head with a tiny, negative jerk. Still speaking with her father, she asked, “Is Mrs. Needham feeling any better today, Father?"
"Somewhat. But that is parish business and not for social comment, eh?” Roland returned the odd look that Alex gave him when he corrected his name. “Is there something we can do for you, Your Lordship?"
"Yes, I believe you can, Reverend ... Manning."
"Papa! Hold on a moment, please,” Clarissa interrupted and turned toward Alex, about to expose her falsehood.
"Forgive me, Your Lordship. I need to confess."
That black eyebrow of his went up again. “Well, then, I am waiting. Miss—?"
"Manning,” she replied. “I used a-a false name when I first interviewed with Mrs. Pritchett and Beatrice in London. I-I did not wish to use my father's name, thinking if I were hired, even temporarily, you might recognize who my father was ... and, well, questions might arise because of it."
"I see."
Clarissa held her breath, her eyes locked onto the marquess's face.
"Clary!” Her father expostulated. “Believe me, dear girl, my name is little known in the marquess's higher circles. You did not need to falsify your surname, child.” Roland glanced over at the nobleman. “I am sure you understand it was simply a minor mistake, eh, Your Lordship?"
"No harm done, Reverend Manning. Just a bit confusing. I did learn a day or so ago that your daughter lived in Lower Cadbury and at what location, after Miss Hornsby returned to the Priory as my daughter's governess."
Alex thought there was no use beating about the bush and went ahead. “I hope you can perform a wedding ceremony at the Priory in the next few days, Reverend."
"Well, now, that is good news. Have I, perhaps, guessed correctly that Jane Hornsby is the happy bride? Is she marrying someone in your employ?"
"Papa!"
"Oh! If it is Jane, my dear, I will be more than happy to do the honors. I know she received several letters from Trury Priory, Clary, because I saw the direction from which they came. I believe the name is a Mr. DeLand. Is he the groom-to-be, my lord?"
Alex's brow rose again when he turned toward Clarissa. “Miss Hornsby and Daniel DeLand are to be married?” he asked. “Do you suppose that is the case, Miss Manning?” Then he sent her a wicked wink.
Somewhat flustered, Clarissa responded, slowly. “I am flabbergasted if it is true, but very happy about it. I truly hadn't the slightest notion, Your Lordship."
"Alex,” he said again, his piercing gaze directed again at Clarissa.
The marquess then turned back to Roland Manning. His hands were clasped behind him, his legs spread as though he may need to engage in a verbal battle of wits with his soon-to-be father-in-law in order to marry the woman he wanted to share his life.
"No, sir. I was unaware of another matrimonial matter. But I am to be the groom in this instance. And, unless I erred badly in judgment, your lovely daughter has agreed to be my bride.” He cleared his throat and then added, “I suspect I should have asked your permiss
ion beforehand."
Just then, Mrs. Oliver entered the room carrying a tea tray loaded with a silver teapot—belonging to Clarissa's mother—a variety of pastries and sweet biscuits, and several cups and saucers.
Roland Manning sat slowly on a shabby wingchair and gripped its arms. Clearly astonishment swept over his countenance. Then he started to smile.
Chapter Thirty-eight
A joint wedding was set for eleven o'clock in the morning at the Priory. A tiny bower had been erected in the huge ballroom, decorated with greenery, colorful flowers and exotic plants brought up from the conservatory.
Lord Reverend Roland Manning had come to marry each couple separately.
The marquess had commandeered his most comfortable traveling coach sent to Lower Cadbury to pick up the Mannings and their housekeeper the day before the wedding and escort them back to the Priory. By evening, everyone was settled in his or her respective bedchambers. Clarissa had asked to share the room adjacent to the schoolroom with her friend, Jane. The young women wished time together before their individual weddings’ excitement descended upon them.
Daniel had refurbished his small cottage when Jane agreed to marry him and stay on at the Priory as Beatrice's governess. Just before the wedding, Jane's belongings would be taken to her new husband's abode on the Trury's grounds.
Clarissa's gowns and whatever she brought with her had already been unpacked by Beth and placed in the lavish chamber adjacent to the marquess's.
Mrs. Oliver helped Clarissa purchase a new gown from the village's seamstress in Lower Cadbury and had it altered to fit Clarissa's full blown figure. The fabric's pale rosy tint complimented her coloring. The housekeeper argued with Clary that she must definitely have a flattering bonnet to wear with it.
"Then, I suppose both gown and bonnet can do double duty after the wedding,” she retorted, slightly flippantly.
"Clary,” Olly remonstrated, patting Clarissa's hand, “I am sure the marquess will give you a substantial allowance to buy anything you wish. Do not scrimp on your appearance, my girl, for the most wonderful day of your life."
"I have only the wages I was paid as Beatrice's governess. I shall not use funds given me from the marquess until we are truly joined in wedlock."
Olly's eyebrows rose. “Why? Do you think that he will renege?"
"I love him dearly, Olly. But the marquess has never said he loves me. There is always the chance that he will change his mind and not marry me or anyone, at all."
"I do not think so, child. He may not have said the words, but I saw the look in his eyes."
* * * *
Clarissa had nothing to worry about although Alex sent out no invitations to the wedding, so only one person came as an invited guest. Bertha Oliver sat on a padded bench for the ceremony as if she sat in a church pew.
There was a hush in the ballroom as Clarissa started walking toward the marquess and her father where they stood and awaited her. Beatrice had asked special permission in secret from Alex, so it was a total surprise when she darted in front of Clarissa. Smiling back at Clarissa over her shoulder, the girl skipped ahead, sprinkling rose petals on the floor in front of them. She halted and beamed up at her soon-to-be-stepmother when they reached the arched bower. Clarissa bent and kissed the girl's cheek, thanked her, then turned to stand next to the marquess.
Alex wore a huge grin, his slate eyes alight with anticipation.
It is going to be all right, Clarissa thought.
He took her hand and kissed it, then laid it on his forearm, covering it with a broad palm.
She drew in a long breath, and smiled up at him.
Whispers from a group of the marquess's staff came from high above the floor of the ballroom where they waited to watch the ceremony. Clarissa glanced up and saw Beth's round face in the crowd. The little maid gave a quick wave, grinning from ear-to-ear.
I shall ask her tomorrow to be my proper lady's maid, Clarissa thought, then quickly turned back to the matter at hand.
Daniel stood up as groomsman for Alex, and Jane acted as witness for Clarissa. When the first wedding ceremony concluded, the marquess bent and gave Clarissa a lingering kiss.
Alex replaced the kiss with a meaningful expression that Clary read only too well.
The second wedding moved forward even more briskly when the newlyweds changed places as witnesses for Jane and Daniel.
Up high in the balcony, a low ripple of applause began, then rose in volume as the servants of Trury Priory congratulated the newlywed pairs. The crowd then dispersed to help at the banquet breakfast following the double wedding ceremonies.
* * * *
Alex arranged for Clarissa's father and his housekeeper to be delivered back to Lower Cadbury before dark. Mrs. Oliver kissed both brides, received hugs, and was handed into the traveling coach a second time. Lord Bosworth, Reverend Roland Manning, clasped each groom's hand with a firm grip, and congratulated him on a special journey into wedded bliss. Of course, before he left he opened his arms wide for Clarissa. He held her tightly against him for several long moments, his eyes clamped shut so that no tears would escape to mar his daughter's happiness.
"I do not know your husband as well as I might,” her father murmured next to Clarissa's ear, “but if ever you need me—"
"Oh, Papa. Everything will be fine.” Clarissa leaned back and grazed her father's cheek with her fingers, lovingly. “I love him, Papa. And I spoke with Alex and asked him to help with your muddled affairs. He said he would. So you are not to worry."
"Yes, we had that discussion last evening, Clary. I found him to be a fine young man and he will take good care of you.” Her father pulled back and looked into her watery eyes. “Be happy, daughter. Today is no time for tears. You deserve happiness. And, remember, Bertha and I are not far away. Only a few hours drive."
Forcing back tears that tried to leak from his eyes as well, Clarissa's father released his hold on his daughter and mounted the steps to the carriage. Soon the vehicle crossed over the bridge and faded out of sight of the Priory.
The four newlyweds turned back inside. Clarissa and Jane shared a look.
"Will you excuse us for a little while?” she asked, directing her question to both men. “Jane and I wish ... uh ... perhaps, we need a short respite from the festivities."
Alex winked at Daniel. “Take all the time you need, my dear. Daniel and I have, uh, some business matters to ... catch up on. I will join you above stairs in two hours, Clarissa.” Turning to his cousin, he said, “Shall we adjoin to my study, Daniel?"
Chapter Thirty-nine
Clarissa and Jane had whispered their fears to each other last evening while sharing a bed about the wedding night to come. Both were nervous, but Jane seemed more eager than Clarissa.
"I never thought I would marry, Clary. Now, I cannot wait. I am eager to learn what happens in marriage between a man and a woman. My dear Daniel is so sweet. Gentle and caring. The letters he wrote to me were so poetic and wonderfully romantic. I know he will not hurt me."
"Has he kissed you, Jane?"
"Only at the ceremony, Clary. But I know he will kiss me again tonight."
"If he does not, Jane, then you kiss him, you hear?” Clarissa giggled, grabbing her friend's hand and squeezing it. “I did not tell you, did I, that I kissed the marquess first. And it was on horseback, too!"
Jane gasped.
"Has Daniel touched you ... other places?"
Jane's eyebrows had risen along with a heated blush. “Of course not! Daniel is a gentleman!"
A serious expression crossed Clarissa's face. “Yes, of course. I should have known. But ... do you not want him to, Jane?” she asked, blatantly curious. “Not ever?"
Color heightened on her friend's cheeks. “I must confess, Clary, that I ... did want him to embrace me, and hold me close. I-I wanted to feel his body leaning against me. But he never did anything but take my hand and hold it in his."
Visions rolled through Clarissa's mind, reme
mbering what uninhibited lovemaking she and the marquess had already experienced. More than once. But tonight would be ... different. For some reason, she knew that.
* * * *
Clarissa heard a soft tap on the door to the marquess's suite, and her heart jerked in her breast, certain it was her husband, ready to claim his connubial rights. “Oh, Lord!"
Then she recognized Beth's voice. “Can I help you get ready for bed, miss—uh—Lady Warner?"
Clarissa's heartbeat slowed to normal. “No, Beth. I am fine,” she replied without opening the door. “Goodnight. I shall see you in the morning."
"Goodnight, then, my lady. Sleep well.” Her maid's footsteps paused briefly, then continued down the hall toward the back staircase.
Clarissa glanced at the mantel clock. Both hands pointed to the six. Dusk came quickly, and she reached over to light a second brace of candles left burning earlier. Someone had started a fire in the grate, too. She went to shut the window covers to keep in the heat. She knew from her earlier experience that the ancient Priory was very drafty. She had felt wisps of chilly air pass through almost every room she entered when she arrived here.
She told Alex and Daniel she might rest for a bit, but of course, that was not true. She and Jane just needed some extra time to get used to the idea of having a real, live husband. Each smiled, hugged, and finally parted, to start their new lives.
Clarissa had removed her wedding garments and hung them in a wardrobe in the marchioness's room, realizing that was what she was now called.
Olly had gifted her with a lacy nightrail. Clarissa donned the soft, lush material, the color of a pale summer sky, tying the ribbons at the shoulder and arranging the rest of it over her nakedness. When she moved, the fine fabric fluttered around her ankles as if it were angels’ wings. She remembered the same fluttery feeling in her chest whenever the marquess kissed her.
She paced before the fireplace, uncertain if she should get into her own bed or the marquess's. She decided to greet him when he entered his own room. She hurried through the doorway to Alex's chamber and hopped into his large bed.
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