‘Please, Richard,’ she made the attempt in form, ‘we cannot trust ourselves alone for the sake of our families.’
‘Fustian.’ Richard’s reply was as short as it was inelegant. He continued to hustle her through the garden, gradually drawing her away from the more populated parts, down a lonely, unlit path which led to God alone knew where. Not quite true, for Richard also evidently knew the way, and no doubt the gardeners did too, though they’d be nowhere close while the party continued.
‘We’ll be betrothed within a week.’ Richard brought their progress to a halt in the shelter of a stone circle in the darkest part of the garden. The lanterns still flared eerily in the distance and Clarissa could see his face clearly when he deftly removed his mask.
‘We cannot let it go ahead, Richard.’ She made her plea again. ‘Aunt Eleanor must postpone the event.’ She couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Marianne, nor yet of distressing Leighton. But either way she’d wound one of them, and in any event she’d hurt herself.
‘That would please the gossips,’ he laughed, ‘and Mrs Markham too, I suspect.’ His voice was serious. ‘You cannot put off a ball for no apparent reason, and neither can you put off a betrothal that most of the ton already suppose to be a done thing. No, Clarissa, you must realize the engagement will go ahead whether you like it or not.’ He tucked a gentle finger under her chin and raised her face to his own, impatiently stripping away her enveloping mask. ‘I intend a betrothal, dear one, and I expect our wedding to follow swiftly on its heels. A marriage between you and I, Clarissa. A loving union between us, not an attempt to foist a deception on my friends and family, to say nothing of your own.’
His lips descended and claimed her soft mouth for his own. The troubles of the world, even her sister’s sad plight, seemed to pale before the passion he unleashed, and Clarissa found herself lost in his arms once more. She clung to him breathlessly, returning his embrace with a fervour that shook her slim form like the wind through fields of corn.
‘A pretty picture, to be sure.’ The very words, insultingly drawled, seemed to match the sneer on Lord Dalwinton’s face. He held up one hand and stared at it as though to inspect the cut of his nails, ‘but which sister is it you’re kissing, I wonder?’
Clarissa, who’d instinctively shrunk behind Leighton at the man’s appearance, stepped forward ready for battle. ‘You should already know the answer to that impertinent question, sir. You’re the so-called gentleman who tried to force his attentions on me when you thought I had no one to protect me. Lord Leighton, I beg to inform you, owns the grace to wait until he finds a maiden willing to accept his kisses.’
Leighton caught hold of her and drew her back, slipping his arm protectively around her shoulders, while his eyes continued to bore into the nobleman with chilling purpose.
‘You must already know, Dalwinton, that Miss Meredew and I are to be formally betrothed within the week.’
‘Indeed.’ Lord Dalwinton executed a graceful bow in their direction. ‘I confess I had heard something of the sort, but I can only assume you have no preference for which sister.’
‘He had better, sir.’ Clarissa stormed back into the attack. ‘And I can only assume you’ve forgotten you’re a gentleman when you bandy these ridiculous accusations about.’ She glared at him angrily, totally unaware her fingers had hooked into vicious claws. The gentle sister had turned into the very image of a fierce lioness, risking all to defend her loved one.
‘Please,’ Dalwinton’s smile failed to reach his eyes and his words lacked any suggestion of true contrition, but it was plain he was shaken by the violence with which Clarissa had refuted the suggestions. ‘I declare I feel nothing but admiration for the pair of you.’
‘Then I beg you won’t embarrass the lady by spreading ugly rumours,’ Leighton followed up, in a voice so urbane it sounded almost menacing. ‘Particularly when they’re so palpably false.’
‘Quite so.’ Dalwinton was bested and so he knew. He executed another bow towards Clarissa’s stormy figure. ‘I must leave you lovers alone, I fear, but have a care. These gardens are not so private as they look.’
The pair watched him anxiously while he minced away, waiting until he disappeared into the gloom before they spoke again.
‘Does he really know the truth about my deception?’ Clarissa posed the question that was on both their minds.
‘That he suspects you’re not Marianne is the only inference I can make. For what reason I can’t tell.’ Leighton thought long and hard before he continued, ‘I can only assume he has some knowledge of Marianne’s disappearance denied the remainder of the ton. Nevertheless, with the pair of you alike as two peas in a pod, he still can’t be sure of his facts, and was looking to startle us into providing irrefutable proof. Luckily for us, he has no such evidence, for he’d happily broadcast the news to all society our quarrel runs so deep.’
‘Can he be holding Marianne himself?’
‘No.’ Leighton shook his head decisively. ‘You saw the answer to that in his words. He only suspects you’re not her, may not even know she has a twin. If he had her imprisoned, then he’d have the proof to hand, though he could hardly dare to use it.’ He stared at the girl with a strangely menacing light in his eyes. ‘What’s this about him attempting to kiss you?’
‘Not myself, but Marianne,’ she corrected. ‘She wrote of his attempt in one of her letters. Someone, an acquaintance of hers, came to her rescue and struck him down. I dare say he’d like to be revenged for that also.’
‘Then he’s doubly dangerous,’ decided Leighton. ‘We already know he suspects your role and that he’s out for revenge. That being so we can assume he will mount his own search for your sister, or perhaps he’s already started.’ The viscount’s brows knitted in thought. ‘He knows more of this story than we give him credit for,’ he decided. ‘He cannot have detected your impersonation by his own deductions; he knows neither you nor Marianne intimately enough to pierce your disguise. That being so, he must have other evidence to go on. Your maid perhaps, or could he have seen your sister’s note?’
‘No,’ Clarissa returned confidently. ‘My aunt and uncle keep it locked away and, whatever her faults, I’m convinced Sophie is too devoted to my sister to betray her. Even to me.’
‘No use floundering in the dark,’ decided Leighton wearily. ‘He must have some basis for his suspicions, but it’s all the same to us whatever it may be. We must accelerate our own search.’
‘What if he finds her first?’
‘Forewarned is forearmed.’ Leighton tucked her hand under his arm and began to stroll back towards the lighted area. ‘We’ll keep our eyes on Lord Dalwinton and in the meantime, you may permit me to take you riding in my curricle. For the benefit of the curious, there’s a good deal of London you still haven’t seen. Can you arrange for your groom to be temporarily transferred to my staff? We may need his help in our quest, and it’ll save a lot of awkward questions if he’s seen to be employed as my tiger.’
‘I’ll speak to Uncle John at breakfast tomorrow morning. I can’t think he’ll have any objection, but old Mr Harricot, who manages the stables, might not like the idea quite so well; Tom’s his son, an only child I believe.’
‘Then he’ll be all the more pleased for the lad’s unexpected advancement. Taken on as tiger to a nobleman! It could be the making of him. What sort of father wouldn’t be celebrating his promotion?’
‘You’ll drive me out tomorrow?’
‘If you’re free.’ Leighton eyed her with glee in his eyes. ‘I suggest we meet up at my sister’s residence. Nothing for the gossips to dwell on there. Will late morning suit you?’
Clarissa bit her lip. She vividly remembered the last time they’d met at Caroline’s house. Not that there was anything in that for her to dwell on either. She wouldn’t allow him to continue his deplorable practice of making love to her every time he met her. Nor would she allow Caroline to leave them alone. Best not to present him with temptat
ion.
‘I’ll be there,’ she confirmed sweetly.
‘You can tell me everything you know about Marianne’s disappearance once we’re private. Now, we must dance, it wouldn’t be seemly to slip away again tonight. Not until we’re formally betrothed.’ He slipped her mask back on and led her back into the conservatory where a number of guests were already gathering in a set for a country dance.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Search for Marianne
Next morning Clarissa went down to breakfast early. It was a convenient time for her to catch her uncle, for Mr Markham was an early riser by society standards, and though he was usually still busy at the table when she appeared, this could be by no means relied upon. They’d be alone too, for Aunt Eleanor rarely left her boudoir before the breakfast dishes had been cleared.
‘Uncle John.’ She started on her mission after exchanging the usual bland inanities about the weather and the state of the nation.
‘Yes, my dear.’ John Markham was fond of his niece and quite ready to indulge her. Clarissa, he considered, had far greater consequence than the more volatile Marianne, and moreover, he assured himself, she wouldn’t be forever running off and leaving them to the mercy of society gossips.
He didn’t altogether approve of the scheme his wife had presented to him as a fait accompli either. In his opinion Clarissa should have been looking for a husband of her own, and not running around deceiving her sister’s beau. However, he fully realized the advantages of the deception, both to Marianne and themselves, and had reluctantly been talked around to back the plan. Then again, since Clarissa had already been seen, if only by the servants, he’d been left with little option.
‘Richard … Lord Leighton has asked me to enquire if you’d lend him young Tom for a period. He needs him as tiger for his carriage.’
‘I thought you’d installed him as your groom, my dear?’ Clarissa didn’t like the way her uncle was looking at her. She’d already decided he wasn’t a man who could be easily fooled, but neither could she admit the truth. If he discovered Leighton knew of the deception he was quite capable of packing her back off to the countryside.
‘So I had, but Leighton’s need is the greater. He’s engaged to show me the sights and must have a groom on hand to maintain the proprieties.’ Even Clarissa couldn’t explain how she was able to lie so fluently under his scrutiny without putting herself to the blush.
‘I wonder what happened to Leighton’s man? Been with him for years, I understand.’ Mr Markham seemed to accept the situation at face value. ‘Do as you think fit, my dear. It’ll do no harm to keep Leighton sweet with the betrothal so close at hand.’
‘Thank you.’ Clarissa smiled sweetly. ‘I have hopes for Marianne to take her place in time for the ball. She’s never been one to miss a party.’
‘It would be embarrassing for us all if she isn’t,’ Mr Markham reminded her. ‘You will hardly like to take her place at such a ceremony.’
‘No, indeed not.’ Clarissa’s agreement was so heart-felt that her uncle looked up startled.
‘Has he been pressing you too far, my dear?’ he asked.
‘Oh no. You mustn’t think I repine.’ She unblushingly returned a negative answer and attempted to reassure him. ‘Leighton always acts the complete gentleman in my company.’
‘Then he’s a damned fool.’ Mr Markham speared her with a penetrating glare and went off on a sudden tangent that caught her by surprise. ‘You’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you, lass?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, hanging her head low.
‘Does he know it?’
‘I believe so, Uncle. That is …’ Clarissa had conceived the intention of informing her uncle that she and Leighton never talked of their love, but decided that was one lie of which she would never convince him.
‘We should not have entered on this deception,’ he decided forlornly. ‘My wife’s bacon-brained ideas have a way of straying awry, but I blame myself more than anyone.’ He regarded her fondly. ‘You have more to lose than anyone if Marianne returns.’
‘I sincerely hope she does, Uncle.’
‘Aye, lass. I know you do.’ Mr Markham nodded kindly. ‘But you’d lose Leighton, if ever she did.’
‘She’s my sister,’ she cried. ‘I could never steal him from her. Even if …’ She dropped her head when her shuddering voice ground to a halt, as near to tears as she’d ever been.
‘He knows, doesn’t he?’
Clarissa stared at her uncle in dismay. ‘Knows what?’ The dissemblance was poor as she very well knew.
‘Will he take Marianne?’
Clarissa hesitated a little too long. ‘He must,’ she confirmed.
‘We’re all in the suds if he doesn’t.’ Mr Markham seemed to age before her eyes. ‘I take it you’re seeing him this morning.’
‘I’m promised to Lady Burnett, his sister,’ she confirmed, leaving out the fact that she, too, knew of their deception. Her uncle’s peace was cut up enough already. ‘He usually waits on her in the morning.’
‘Take him yourself, if you can,’ he advised kindly. ‘Your sister doesn’t deserve such devotion.’ He stood up from the table abruptly. ‘I have some correspondence to deal with.’
Less than an hour later Clarissa found herself in the Markhams’ carriage on its journey to Lady Burnett’s residence. Tom clung to the back of the vehicle, a canvas hold-all containing his baggage strapped to the top, while his father drove, usurping the coachman’s place to bid a farewell to his son.
She bestowed a rail on the lad when they arrived and begged him to help all he could in finding her sister, then left him to his father, in whose breast, she was sure, pride was inextricably mixed with the sorrow of parting.
Caroline’s butler showed her into the morning-room where Caroline waited with her brother.
‘I have brought Tom,’ she told him when he advanced on her. Then hissed in a quiet, sibilant tone, designed to be heard by him alone, ‘No, we must not. Your sister—’ The plea was ruthlessly thrust aside and a leisurely kiss pressed on her cheek, and that only because she turned her lips away.
‘I think I’d better leave you.’ Clarissa found to her horror that Caroline was already heading for the door.
‘No,’ she cried.
‘Yes.’ Richard took her arm and led her to a seat on the far side of the room. ‘Caroline cannot be further implicated in our plots. Come, sit down, and I promise to behave.’ He looked at her disbelieving face with a grave intensity and added a disturbing rider. ‘For the present.’
‘Marianne.’ Clarissa reminded him of their purpose.
‘Tell me the whole,’ he requested. ‘Leave nothing out, however distasteful. I have to know what we’re dealing with.’
Clarissa obediently did as he told her, happy to discover that he largely agreed with her own conclusions. Despite her long absence it seemed to him, as to her, that Marianne was merely in hiding of her own accord, and meant to return to the bosom of her family in time.
Why did she leave? That question was germane only in that it might give a clue to her present whereabouts. As for its answer, Leighton had as little idea as Clarissa, though he could apply some reasoned argument. Her decision must have been unexpected and sudden, for she’d evidently been forced to implicate her maid at the last moment, if only to supply her with the clothing she’d require. No well-planned flight to the border, then. Equally likely that she would have remained in the neighbourhood of the park where she was last seen; with her own carriage so close by it would make no sense to hire another if she found it necessary to undertake a further journey. Since his logic took him no further than Clarissa had already related, he dismissed this line of reasoning and started afresh.
‘Why was Marianne in such a neighbourhood?’ he asked. The question was rhetoric and Clarissa knew it as well as he. ‘From what you say, it was a respectable part of town, but not a place where anyone of any consequence would live. She could not have found a f
riend living there.’
‘She told Aunt Eleanor she was going to the Emporium.’
‘You say there was no sign of any shops, either,’ mused Leighton.
‘She could have been meeting someone.’ Clarissa blushed, well aware that Leighton would consider his future wife had no right to be meeting anyone in secret, especially in such an out of the way place.
‘An assignation, in fact,’ he returned coolly, taking in Clarissa’s embarrassment. ‘Have you been keeping something from me?’
‘No,’ she floundered. ‘Well, nothing you couldn’t have decided for yourself.’ She continued to blush for her sister’s notions of propriety. ‘As I’ve already told you she mentioned a lad named Stephen in her letters. I thought she might perhaps have been meeting him.’
‘Yes,’ he nodded calmly. ‘That theory would certainly fit the facts as we know them. Did no one suspect?’
‘Rumours of her elopement were running rife when I first came to London,’ admitted the girl. ‘My appearance scotched them before they could damage her reputation, but I never did believe them, and nor should you. She’d have brought her baggage along with her, if that were her plan, and very likely taken her maid too. Marianne is no giddy girl.’
‘Is there anything else I should know?’ Leighton raised his eyebrows in mute question. ‘Lord Dalwinton, for example?’
‘Dalwinton? I can’t believe she would stoop to meeting him in secret. For all he’s received in society, he’s no better than the most ramshackle of rakes.’ Clarissa dismissed the idea of a tryst with such a man. ‘Why, if Marianne’s letters are to be believed, she positively disliked the man.’
‘If he suspects you’re not Marianne,’ Leighton prompted, ‘then he must have some reason for doing so. I cannot believe he plays no part in this whole imbroglio.’
‘Perhaps he intended to blackmail her.’ A pure guess, based on the reading of the most trashy romantic novels. Clarissa had no great knowledge of the blackmailer’s art, but she doubted whether any of Marianne’s escapades would result in that much notoriety.
A Fraudulent Betrothal Page 13