‘Then I’ll repeat the insult,’ Leighton told him implacably. ‘In public, somewhere you cannot refuse to seek satisfaction, unless you wish to shame yourself forever.’ He laughed shortly. ‘Your friends will force you into the quarrel, just as I’ve seen you do to others.’
The emotions continued to play over Dalwinton’s face. He was a beaten man, as he eventually admitted. ‘Come, Marston,’ he commanded, and tried to retire in good order.
That much Leighton was not going to allow. He stepped forward and applied his boot to the other’s posterior, sending him flying into the mud. Marston, loyal to the last, stood over his employer’s prone form, ready to defend him, but instead took the brunt of the viscount’s anger: a left to set him up, followed by a right that jolted him off his feet.
‘If either of you should lay hands on my future wife again,’ he told the cowering men with blazing eyes, ‘I’m ready to risk the gallows to take my revenge.’
Dalwinton was scrabbling backwards in the dirt, his impeccable clothing already mired by the fall he’d taken. Marston showed less interest, his barely conscious body twitching at the feet of his noble opponent.
‘Come.’ Leighton offered his arm to Clarissa when Dalwinton scrambled to his feet and retreated with ignominious haste. ‘I must return you to your aunt before I transport Marianne to Bedfordshire.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Betrothals
Rather more than twenty-four hours passed before Clarissa saw Leighton again. She was engaged on a visit to Caroline in the afternoon of the following day when he finally appeared, tired and more than a little dusty, on her doorstep.
‘Richard,’ his sister greeted him with a distinct lack of filial respect. ‘Where the devil have you been? In such a state, and your affianced bride here with me too. Whatever will she think?’
‘Happily she is not such a numbskull as you, dear sister.’ He advanced into the room and kissed her affectionately on the cheek. ‘Now leave us alone, if you please, Caro. Clarissa, as you’ve hinted more than once since you discovered her deception, has not yet accepted my suit on her own behalf.’
‘It would be most improper,’ Caroline teased him, and made as if to sit again, only to be propelled by a strong pair of arms in the direction of the door. ‘I’ll order the champagne.’ She made the offer her parting shot.
‘No, I thank you, Sister.’ Leighton was in no mood to be interrupted by a pack of servants delivering refreshment, however felicitous. His own tastes inclined towards a more intimate form of celebration, and he desired no audience to be a party to that form of revelry.
‘My very own darling.’ He approached Clarissa’s seated form and suddenly dropped to one knee while he took her hands in his own. They felt cold from long hours of hard driving and Clarissa instinctively drew them close against her. ‘I’m all too aware I’ve taken your endorsement of all my schemes for granted. I love you too much to give you up. Please, my darling, be mine. Marry me, I beg you.’
‘Yes, Richard. Oh please, yes.’ Clarissa’s face blushed becomingly, but she no longer had any intention of pressing her sibling’s claims ahead of her own. Not that it would be of the least use to do so, for neither her lover nor her sister seemed likely to heed her. Nor did she advance any objections on the impropriety of his spurning one sister in favour of the other. If it became necessary, she knew she’d follow him into exile from Town with no other remorse than a vague disappointment that she was the cause of him losing his own place in society. Not that it was likely to come to that! Richard would contrive to set all right again, just as he’d foretold. Just as he’d promised her.
For long moments, they stared deep into one another’s eyes, before some devil within prompted her to tease him.
‘Shouldn’t you have approached Uncle John first?’ she asked, with wide eyed innocence. ‘I dare say he’d like to discuss settlements and prospects and such like with you, before the betrothal is settled.’
‘Witch!’ Richard quizzed her. ‘How do you know I haven’t?’
‘Have you?’ Clarissa stared at him in amazement. How had he found the time? Had he called on her uncle before his own sister?
‘Of course I haven’t. To speak to Markham would have been most improper when, as you very well know, he’s not your guardian. I’ve settled the matter in proper form with your Aunt Constance, who has a great deal more consequence than you’ve shown thus far.’
‘Then I’m surprised you shouldn’t marry her instead.’ Clarissa was playing with fire and she knew it, measuring the spark in his eyes with an air of mock innocence in her own.
‘I don’t marry her,’ Richard answered tantalizingly, ‘because she doesn’t set a fire to my whole being.’
He rose all of a sudden and jerked Clarissa to her feet. She felt his breath warm against her hair, her own face cradled against his shoulder; suddenly, blood poundingly aware they were touching from breast to toe, her thighs and belly hard against his muscular form.
She expected him to embrace her then and there, and most probably kiss her into the stupidest daze, which, as she was well aware from previous encounters, he could do so easily. Instead, he surprised her once more, stooping lithely to sweep her off her feet and into his arms, before he adroitly spun around and settled back into the same seat she’d vacated only a few sweet seconds before.
Positioned on his lap and held fast against the hard, muscular wall of his chest she could only gasp in shock at his temerity. Indignation at being handled so cavalierly and the natural ardour of a woman in love fought a brief battle within her breast. Passion won and she eagerly turned her face up to be kissed, welcoming the fervour of his lips grinding passionately against her own.
His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer, and leaving her even more aware of the way her soft curves flattened against the strength of his masculinity. She felt a moment of panic and her palms pressed against his chest as though to push him away, but one slid, as though by accident, beneath the smooth superfine of his coat. Warm skin and rippling muscles seared her fingers through his thin linen shirt and she was lost. Her arms coiled lovingly around his shoulders, peeling back his coat, stroking the thick column of his neck and twining into the thicker hair at his nape.
She could feel the pleasurable sensation of his own hands greedily exploring her body, searching out her burgeoning curves, but no longer had the strength nor the will to protest. Her mouth lay open under his, his breath mixing inexorably with hers, while she returned his kisses with all the fervour of a more experienced lover. Her brain was intoxicated, unable to act of its own free will. She knew of that for certain, for her body was reacting to his sweet touch with a mind of its own, arching under the freedom of his loving, and ever bolder, caresses. One thigh, crushed helplessly against his virile masculinity, wilfully massaged his ardour, and encouraged him to new heights of passion. Desire had inflamed her virgin senses, igniting responses over which she no longer held control.
Clarissa could hear the knocking, but fuelled by the passion of the moment, thought nothing of it until Richard ceased his ministrations and looked around. Still reeling under the spell of her raw hunger for his enthusiastic caresses, she thrust herself fervently against him, seeking to draw him back into the vortex of their loving embrace.
Only then did she realize her position – their position. Caroline was standing in the doorway, eyeing their entwined forms with undisguised interest. Whatever would she think of them? Of her? The unbidden thought arose to the forefront of her mind; she was her mother again, helplessly tossed in a tide of desire over which she had no control. For the first time in her life she realized just how easily such a thing could happen.
‘Caroline,’ Richard gasped. He was equally as embarrassed as his love at being caught in such a compromising situation, but much the quicker of the two to recover some composure. ‘Don’t you ever knock?’ he complained, painfully aware of his own high colour and of the girl perched on his lap.
�
�Oh!’ Clarissa was still unable to speak, appalled by her situation. Her face felt as though it was on fire and she was all too alive to the impropriety of her position, balanced precariously on a man’s lap. Whatever had she been thinking of? Then she remembered of what she’d been thinking, and blushed all the more for her wanton behaviour.
Caroline, in the meantime, couldn’t help but giggle at their embarrassment. Clarissa had staggered off her brother’s lap and she almost fell into hysterics when he rose with stiff formality, stalking across the room with angry recriminations on his lips. Then he, too, was struck with the latent humour in the situation, and laughed out loud.
‘I did knock,’ Caroline assented. ‘Several times, for I expected some celebration of the sort to be in progress. Then I peeped around the doorway’ – she paused to curb the infectious giggles that looked likely to overcome her again – ‘and discovered I had to knock again. Really, Richard. I thought you, at least, would be able to maintain some sense of decorum.’
She strode across the room to embrace her future sister-in-law, who still looked as though she’d like the floor to open up and swallow her whole. ‘It was just such a scene when Sir Roger begged me for my hand,’ she consoled Clarissa. ‘I felt myself sunk quite beyond reproach at my enthusiastic return of his attentions. Though he,’ – and she flung a fulminating look at her brother – ‘at least, had the decency not to draw me on to his lap.’ She blushed becomingly herself. ‘Not on that particular day, at least.’
‘Thank you, Caro.’ Clarissa’s thanks were heartfelt, and for all she felt the heat still glowing in her face, she was thankful to find her friend was attempting to put her at her ease rather than reproach her. Thank God it hadn’t been another who had discovered them together. Such a passionate scene would make a pretty morsel for the gossips.
‘Thank you? Thank you for nothing, Sister.’ Richard had apparently regained his customary good humour, but his words made it obvious he still resented his sister’s intrusion into their intimacy.
‘As well I did interrupt you,’ she replied, with a speaking glance, causing Richard to search his conscience. He should have held his passions in check, and well he knew it. He and Clarissa were not married as yet, and neither were they in their own marital home.
‘I take it congratulations are in order,’ Caroline went on to fill the ensuing silence, directing her speech this time towards her young friend.
‘I can’t think why you should want to congratulate me, or to welcome me as an addition to your family,’ murmured Clarissa, still over-set by her frightening lack of restraint. ‘Indeed, you shouldn’t lay all the blame for what happened on Richard, either. My own emotions were wholly overthrown in a manner which quite puts me to shame.’
‘So I should hope,’ replied her hostess, laughing out loud with a complete lack of maidenly modesty. ‘Richard would suffer a poor marriage otherwise.’ She slipped a comforting arm around her friend’s waist and led her to a chair. ‘I hope you don’t regret it.’
‘Oh, no.’ Clarissa blushed once again when she found herself admitting to the truth of the matter. It was true! If Richard should seize the chance to take her in his arms once more, then she would return his caresses with every fibre of her being. Such a love could never be shameful, however embarrassing it was to be caught canoodling upon his knees.
‘Then we’d better drink to your future happiness.’ Caroline headed determinedly towards the bell rope, until Richard stopped her.
‘No, Caro,’ he told her. ‘We have much to discuss before I leave again. All three of us.’
‘Leave?’ Clarissa asked the question in a quavering voice.
‘I must, my darling.’ He strode across the room, and for a moment Clarissa was worried he might draw her into his embrace again in front of his sister, and the next instant disappointed that he didn’t. ‘There are preparations to be made if our twin betrothals are to be announced to society.’
‘Twin proposals?’ Caroline had been listening with interest and demanded to know what he meant.
‘I haven’t time to explain,’ Richard told her impatiently. ‘Not now. Clarissa will bring you up to date once I’ve left.’ He gave his love a speaking glance. ‘In the meantime, Clarissa will need to refurbish her wardrobe.’
‘I’ve already more than enough to wear,’ she told him.
‘All that you have belongs to Marianne,’ he warned her. ‘I intend to substitute her for you on the morning of the ball. You, yourself, will need to purchase a complete new wardrobe in utter secrecy, for you cannot be found in one of your sister’s dresses. I dare say Caroline can help you there.’ He turned to his sister. ‘This must remain a secret between ourselves; Clarissa will have to deposit her purchases with you. Where can you hide them so no one suspects?’
‘My dresser is to be trusted,’ Caroline decided. ‘She, at least, must know if we’re to be successful in hiding such a wardrobe. I dare say Sir Roger might never suspect that my cupboards hold additional clothing, but I won’t lie to him if he does.’
‘Roger’s fine, so long as he holds his tongue,’ Richard agreed, but turned again to Clarissa with a warning. ‘Your Aunt Eleanor must not be allowed so much as a suspicion. She might have her heart in the right place, but she’s a complete goose when it comes to keeping a secret. I’ve little doubt she’d expose us all in a moment, quite without meaning to do so.
‘Ready-made articles,’ he continued, barely drawing breath, ‘such as a lady might wear, are easily purchased. A shopkeeper might wonder at large amounts being sought so immediately, but I’ve never known the merchant yet who would balk at accepting money. Gowns and other such items are different. They take time to make up, and that’s the one thing we haven’t got.’
‘I know of at least one fashionable seamstress who could undertake the task,’ Caroline told him. ‘There’d be a limit to the number of gowns that could be fitted in the time remaining before your ball, but enough to pass muster. Especially if she should also refurbish some of mine.’ She studied Clarissa’s figure carefully. ‘We’re much of a muchness so far as size is concerned.’
‘Good,’ Richard congratulated her. ‘I’ll also undertake to bring some of Clarissa’s clothing from Bedfordshire when I return with Marianne.
‘Clarissa,’ he gave her one more task before he finished. ‘You must be seen in Stephen’s company as much as possible. He’s residing in my house at present and it would be quite inadmissible for you to seek him there, but I’ll engage to have him call on you at the Markhams’ before the betrothals are announced. You may also look for him at other venues; Caroline can arrange such meetings. You will look all complaisance with him and allow people to think you a prettily behaved pair. It will otherwise look decidedly fishy when they marry in what might look like indecent haste.
‘Caro, please give us a moment.’
Caroline stared at her brother, but did as she was bid, leaving the lovers alone again.
‘We won’t meet again until the ball to celebrate our betrothal,’ he told Clarissa, tenderly taking her in his arms again and holding her close. ‘I don’t know how I’ll hold myself in check,’ he admitted, ‘for I’m afraid our engagement will be of a longer duration than that of Stephen and Marianne. They have good reason to marry in haste, while we must endure the pleasures of others, whilst not taking pleasure in each other.’
‘Dear heart,’ she murmured and held up her lips to be kissed. ‘We can always find an excuse to be alone.’
Richard, though shaken by a desire to ravage her until she could barely stand, kept the embrace to no more than a peck and stepped back with a hint of the barely restrained passion still lighting his eyes.
‘Caroline,’ he called out steadfastly, ‘I’m ready to leave.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lover’s Ball
On the morning of the ball, Richard made good his promise to return with Marianne, and to Clarissa’s immeasurable relief, he’d transported Aunt Constance too. His car
riage, boldly emblazoned with his arms, was tooled uncharacteristically in through the rear entrance of the Markhams’ stableyard, where it broke its journey close by one of the house’s several rear entrances. Clarissa was waiting there, having being appraised of its imminent arrival by the ever watchful Sophie, who’d returned to act as maidservant to the girl pending the return of her own mistress.
Clarissa raced across the cobbles and flung herself headlong into Richard’s arms as soon as he alighted and continued to hold on to him while Sophie ushered her own mistress into the house. Providing she followed their plan to the letter, Marianne would then proceed along the deserted back corridors to a more appropriate position, ready to greet the official arrival of her aunt and sister. Thus the two sisters had no more time than to offer each other more than the briefest of greetings, though Marianne regarded the happy couple’s affectionate embrace with startled eyes.
With Marianne safely smuggled into the house, Richard took the chance to steal a kiss before he handed his love into the coach and the ecstatic congratulations of her aunt, who’d evidently been brought up to date by the viscount on their various machinations.
Thus it was that Clarissa made her entrance through the front door on the heels of Aunt Constance, as Marianne made hers behind the Markhams, completely over-setting their peace, since they could hardly make out which girl was which, or even which one had last been in their custody.
That evening they all took their place in the line to welcome their guests, who having wondered at the likeness of the twins, wondered still more who Stephen was, and why he should take such a prominent place in the line up. In the event they were to be kept in the dark about his presence until Leighton made his speech later in the evening.
A Fraudulent Betrothal Page 19