Luc was roused from his reverie by the feel of Clarissa’s fingers running across his chest.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, just playing.”
“Well, that’s probably not wise.”
“Why? Oh, don’t worry, I’m not the type to cling. I’ve already told you that I shall return home next week and you need never see me again. But since I’m here, I might as well take full advantage of the opportunity to broaden my education.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh, is it not?” She appeared genuinely surprised. “I thought you might consider me to be another Mrs. Stokes. If so, let me set your mind at rest immediately. I won’t pursue you after tonight, but I gather you have great stamina.” She slanted him a flirtatious gaze. “Care to prove it?”
He wrinkled his brow. “Whatever gave you such a notion?”
“Well, your Mrs. Stokes was at the orphanage the other day, talking to her friend about your prowess. I think she intended me to overhear her.”
“Damned woman! But never mind her. Darling, it wouldn’t be wise to do it again so soon.”
“Why not?” Her fingers continued to beat a light tattoo across his chest.
“You must be sore.”
“Not at all.”
“Even so.”
Luc groaned as her fingers danced sensually over every inch of his body, conducting an erotic and very thorough survey. “Where did you learn so much about the art of seduction, Lady Hartley?” he asked, feigning disapproval. “I don’t remember teaching you to behave thus.”
“I might be an innocent but…”
Luc chuckled. “Not anymore.”
“All right,” she conceded, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I was an innocent, but I’m not deaf. I’ve heard maids talking.”
“Ah yes, maids. Always a valuable source of information.”
“I’ve always found them to be so,” Clarissa said conversationally.
Luc barked a laugh as he rolled onto his back, pulled Clarissa with him, and took charge of matters.
Chapter Sixteen
Clarissa woke early but didn’t immediately get out of bed. Instead she stretched, smiling to herself as she recalled her activities of the previous evening. In spite of his protests she’d persuaded Luc to pleasure her three times. Not that he’d been reluctant for his own part, he’d made that abundantly clear. But he was concerned that it would be too much for her, that she was too inexperienced and that he might hurt her. Hurt her! The whole experience had been a complete revelation and had given her pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. Luc had been so considerate, so gentle, so patient with her. He’d taken her skittishness in his stride and soothed away her concerns. She knew she’d been fortunate and could not have asked for a more accomplished and proficient lover.
For the first time ever, Clarissa felt she was a complete woman and, with an expansive sigh, repented the fact that she would never know that feeling again. But she’d spoken no more than the truth when she told Luc she wouldn’t cling. She had no intention of behaving like Mrs. Stokes, or any of the other ladies she’d observed competing for Luc’s attention, flirting and blatantly making their availability plainly apparent.
He’d seemed disbelieving when she’d given him her assurance, and she thought he’d been on the verge of contradicting her. Clarissa took neither heart nor comfort from her resolve but reminded herself that Luc was a rake of the first order. Definitely not the faithful type. Whilst her first opinion of him may have been erroneous, she hadn’t been far off the mark. She now knew him to be a good, dutiful son, a strong head of the family, a firm and fair landlord, a witty and charming companion.
But there was no escaping the fact that he’d simply been amusing himself with her. And since she’d all but begged him to do so, she couldn’t fault his behaviour. She blushed at her forwardness, simultaneously revelling in the bolt of desire that streaked through her as she recalled the feel of his hands exploring her body. His wickedly enticing smile. His black eyes burning with passion as he finally found his own release. She shivered, ruthlessly banishing all carnal thoughts from her head, refusing to become just one more woman following a long line of predecessors, sighing for the want of his attentions. Instead she focused upon his dictatorial attitude when dealing with the matter of her lands. This thought helped her to regain control, and she was able to smile brightly at Agnes, who chose that particular moment to enter her room.
“What, still a-bed, my lady?” she asked with surprise. “It is almost nine o’clock.”
“Good morning, Agnes.”
“It’s a fine day, my lady.” Agnes pulled back the drapes to admit a flood of sunlight, frowning as she observed Clarissa more clearly. “And you look remarkably well this morning, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“I don’t mind in the least. And I should look well, don’t you think? After all, my problems are at an end and we shall soon be able to return home.”
“Is that what’s making you look so bonny?”
“Of course, Agnes, what else could it be?”
“What indeed.”
As Clarissa sat before her glass and pondered upon her reflection she could see for herself just why Agnes was looking at her in such a strange manner. Indeed, she could scarce believe what she was seeing with her own eyes. Considering that Luc hadn’t left her chamber until shortly after five o’clock, and given how little sleep she’d achieved before that, she had to admit that her complexion bore a rare bloom this morning. Her eyes sparkled with the pure joy of life and her lips — still delightfully swollen as a result of Luc’s ardent kisses — seemed to be turned upwards in a permanent smile. Agnes said little as she brushed Clarissa’s hair, but she too seemed to be afflicted with an overwhelming urge to smile.
Clarissa was about to go down to breakfast when there was a knock upon her door. Agnes answered it and returned to Clarissa bearing a wrapped parcel.
“This was just delivered for you, my lady.”
“Really? I’m not expecting anything. I wonder what it could be?”
Clarissa opened the parcel and blushed to the roots of her hair as she extracted two exquisite silk nightgowns.
“Been shopping again have we, my lady?”
“What no, of course…oh, I mean yes, Agnes, yes, indeed I have. You know, I feel so dowdy in this elegant house, wearing my old nightgowns. Besides, they’re so threadbare that I took the opportunity to replace them.”
Aware that she was babbling, Clarissa fell silent. Agnes contented herself with a “quite so, my lady,” and a knowing smile. Clarissa inwardly cursed Luc’s flamboyant gesture. God’s beard, what game did he think he was playing? Agnes must know she would never have wasted the ludicrous amount of money these garments must have cost just for the purpose of sleeping in them. Besides, she’d freeze to death in such flimsy night attire when she returned to Northumberland.
Clarissa was too preoccupied to gather her wits sufficiently to make a believable case for her fictitious purchase, and Agnes would just have to think what she wished. Luc was clearly responsible for the gift. But how had he managed it so soon? Perhaps he kept a ready store of such items to hand to bestow upon his conquests. Far from feeling insulted, the idea amused her, and she found herself smiling again. She fingered the beautiful, gossamer thin silk dreamily, imagining how luxurious it would feel when worn next to her naked skin and regretted, just for a moment, that Luc would never see her thus attired.
Clarissa entered the breakfast parlour a short time later to find Luc there alone. He rose to greet her and held out her usual chair, the one next to his. His greeting was as formal as always since servants were present but there could be no mistaking the devilish glint in his eye.
“Good morning, Lady Hartley, I trust you slept well.”
“Thank you, my lord, I find that I had a most memorable night’s repose.”
“I’m very satisfied to hear you say it. You certainly look exceedingl
y well this morning. Lady Sinclair’s gathering must have agreed with you, I think?”
“Something about last evening’s activities certainly agreed with me.”
“You must enjoy new experiences.”
“Indeed, I enjoyed everything that I experienced yesterday.”
“And your appetite has returned, I’m glad to observe.” He nodded toward the enormous serving of breakfast that Clarissa had helped herself to.
“I find that my appetite for all things is undergoing a marked revival.”
“No doubt due to the excellent news regarding your estates?”
“Oh, undoubtedly.”
The footman left the room to replenish a dish, leaving only Bentley standing a discreet distance away from the table.
“Luc! Those nightgowns, what do you think you’re playing at?”
His expression was far too innocent. “Don’t you like them?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that…well, Agnes saw me open them.” Clarissa blushed again, unaware how desirable it made her appear. “She must know I didn’t purchase them and guess that you’re responsible.” She glared at him, acutely embarrassed.
“Ah yes, I dare say.” He sat back in his chair, looking exceedingly smug, just as Aunt Marcia entered the room.
“Wear one for me tonight,” he whispered, standing to greet his mother.
“Tonight?” she whispered back. “What are you talking about?”
There would be no tonight. Had she not made that clear to him? But Luc’s attention was now entirely focused upon his mother, and he appeared not to hear her.
A short time later Clarissa was seated in Luc’s curricle, with just Mulligan between them and one footman up behind. Marcia had decreed that they should all go to Richmond Park for a picnic, only to remember at the last minute that she was engaged elsewhere but insisting that Luc and Clarissa go anyway.
Arriving at Richmond the footman busied himself unloading the picnic, whilst Luc, Clarissa, and a delighted Mulligan strolled the park. The dog gambolled about with his lopsided gait, chasing the sticks that Luc threw for him and making them laugh with his clumsy attempts to round up the ducks that were resting on the bank of the river.
“Come on, m’dear,” Luc said, taking her arm and whistling to Mulligan. “Let’s enjoy our luncheon.”
They did so, mostly in silence, but Clarissa was aware of a tension between them caused partly by her refusal to meet Luc’s eye. She ate his meat, feeding morsels to the hovering Mulligan, and drank the cool, crisp champagne that he poured for her into a crystal flute. She made absent responses to his remarks but, far from being closer to him after their night of passion, she felt now as though he was a stranger.
Clarissa wondered whether she was subconsciously preparing herself for the pain of separation. And it would be a painful experience, she knew at least that much. Her feelings would be a thousand times removed from those she had anticipated the occasion would engender just a few short weeks ago. Far from turning her back on Luc for the final time with a feeling of relief at never having to see him again she accepted now that their parting would be nothing less than brutal agony.
“Clarissa?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was wool gathering there for a moment. Did you say something?”
“Actually,” he said with a smile, “I said the same thing three times.”
She blinked. “Did you?”
“I asked whether you’d care for more champagne. Not the most engrossing question, I confess, but one that requires a response nevertheless.” He was smiling at her, and Clarissa heartily wished he wouldn’t do so. Just the sight of his lips curving upwards, the softening of his expression as he looked at her with eyes that clearly wanted, was sufficient to set her heart racing and her mind to already regret the loss of him.
“Thank you, but no more for me.”
“Then will you not eat a little more? You’ve taken very little.”
“No, thank you. I ate a large breakfast.”
“Indeed you did.” That smile again. Clarissa was unable to meet it with equanimity and looked away, confused and unsettled. “Okay, Hoskins,” he said to the footman, “you may clear away.”
Hoskins left them sitting on a rug beneath an accommodating oak tree. The silence, the aching stillness, lengthened between them, and Clarissa, conscious that she should make an effort to converse with him, searched her mind for a suitable subject. They had already discussed at length the course which their interview with Twining and Salik would take on Monday, and there was little more that could be said upon that subject. Relating her plans for her return to Northumberland would bring up the unspoken matter of her departure, so that wasn’t possible either. The orphanage. That was surely safe ground. Clarissa opened her mouth to speak, but Luc pre-empted her by taking her gloved hand in his and, mindless of the public place they were in, turning it over and kissing the inside of her wrist.
“Now, Lady Hartley,” he said, his tone gentle yet authoritative. “Why don’t you tell me what’s been on your mind the entire morning?”
“What do you mean?”
He met her gaze and held it. “You know what I mean.”
“Luc, I don’t — ”
“Clarissa, the one thing I’ve always been able to rely upon you for is plain speaking. There ought to be no barriers between us.” He paused. “Especially not now. Tell me what troubles you, my love.”
“I just…well, it’s just that I feel confused.”
“By what happened between us last night?”
“Partly.”
“But, in the broad light of day, have you come to regret it?”
“No, of course not.”
Luc studied her in silence, unnerving her and prompting her to speak again.
“All right, yes, perhaps a little. You see, I thought we’d agreed that I wouldn’t cling.” She stood up, obliging him to follow her example. “That one night was all it would be. But now you’re openly sending me intimate gifts and implying that you wish to come to me again. I don’t understand why that should be.”
“Do you not?”
“Luc, I’m grateful to you for what you taught me last night. I feel — ”
“Complete?”
“Precisely. Nothing could have prepared me for the reality, and I’ll always treasure the memory.” She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms round her torso, as though trying to hold those memories inside. “But I don’t wish to be something with which you amuse yourself until you become tired of me and wish to move on.”
“And is that what you think I am doing, merely amusing myself at your expense?” He spoke mildly but Clarissa thought she could detect disdain in his tone.
“Is that not what all tonnish gentlemen do? You must excuse me if I’ve insulted, you but it’s certainly the impression I’ve formed since coming to the capital.”
“I thought we’d gotten beyond that.”
She shook her head, more confused than ever, heartily wishing that he’d stop talking in riddles. “What do you mean?”
Luc caught hold of her wrist, bringing her to a halt in front of him. “Do I have to spell it out? I thought you realised. I wish you to marry me.”
“What?” Clarissa sank back down onto the blanket, her utter surprise at his declaration robbing her legs of their ability to support her. Luc resumed his seat beside her and took her hand.
“Does the idea dismay you as much as that?”
“The idea has completely flummoxed me, Luc, if you want to know the truth. I had no notion that you felt that way.”
“What, you consider that I behave as I did last night with a chaste lady of quality just for sport?” There was a sharpness to his tone, an edge which clearly indicated what he thought of such behaviour.
Clarissa sighed, grappling for the right words. “Luc, no one but you knows the true nature of my marriage. As far as the world at large is concerned I’m an experienced widow and therefore viewable as fair game, I believe is th
e expression, much the same as Mrs. Stokes.”
“Good God, Clarissa, don’t dare to compare yourself to that woman.”
His vehemence both startled and discomforted her. “Perhaps we should return home?”
“Not until we’ve resolved this situation. Clarissa, I’m sorry but I’ve handled this very badly. Allow me to start again and tell you of my true feelings for you.” He paused, presumably to gather his thoughts, and then started talking again. “When you first arrived I confess that I anticipated little pleasure from your visit. But as soon as I realised how different you are to the women I meet daily, I started to take more of an interest in you. And at that first ball we attended, when you told me in no uncertain terms exactly what you thought of tonnish society in general and me in particular, my interest was truly piqued. To be honest, women tend to fawn over me,” he added with a self-depreciating smile, “and no one has ever dared to speak to me quite so frankly before.”
“Luc, I — ”
He held up a hand and prevented her from continuing. “Hear me out, Clarissa, please. When I realised how much interest you had in the orphanage, how much Mulligan likes you and how envious other tonnish women were of you, I realised that I had, at long last, met someone truly special. I’d met the lady I’ve been seeking for my entire life.” He smiled at her before demanding accusingly, “What took you so long to find me?
“When you described your work in Northumberland with such evident passion,” he said, “and demonstrated your determination to continue with it no matter what obstacles were placed in your path, I felt an admiration for your spirit that I’ve never before entertained for anyone. Your resolve to marry a man old enough to be your father just so that you could carry on with that work was special cause for admiration. That’s when I discovered that I couldn’t bear to have you think badly of me. So I broke my rule and took you to the orphanage. I knew you would understand what we’re trying to achieve there, and I was right, wasn’t I?”
Lady Hartley's Inheritance Page 17