Page 19 of A Captain For Clarissa
The soirée continued its ebb and flow, but Rafael felt adrift, caught in the current of his own conflicted desires. It was then that Alex, his features etched with gravity, approached and gently tugged at his sleeve, drawing him away from the festivities.
“Captain de Silva, might I have a word in private?” Alex’s tone left no room for refusal, and Rafael nodded, excusing himself with quiet grace.
They found solace in the relative calm of a secluded antechamber, the noise of the party a distant murmur behind closed doors.
“Something weighs on your mind, Lord Glenkellie,” Rafael observed, noting the solemnity that had settled upon the other man’s countenance.
“Indeed, it does,” Alex admitted, locking eyes with Rafael. “It concerns Clarissa — and the delicate nature of her circumstances.” His words hung in the air, heavy with implication, and Rafael felt a tightening in his chest as he braced himself for what was to come.
“Captain, you are a man of the world, and I trust your discretion,” Alex began, his gaze unwavering. “What transpired in Athens with Clarissa... it is not yet common knowledge here in Florence. But rumours are insidious creatures; they breed in silence and spread with the swiftness of wildfire.”
Rafael’s eyes narrowed with concern. He understood all too well the power of reputation, especially for a lady of Clarissa’s standing.
“Her disappearance, the circumstances of her return —“ Alex continued, “they cannot be concealed for long, considering the hue and cry my mother and aunt quite understandably raised when they found her missing in Athens. Clarissa needs the protection of a respectable marriage, and she needs it soon, before her reputation is irreparably tarnished.”
The weight of Alex’s words settled over Rafael like a cloak, heavy and suffocating. He sensed the unspoken plea behind them, and his honour warred with a potent mix of emotions. His mind raced with visions of Clarissa — her spirited laugh, the fire in hereyes when she spoke her mind. The thought of her reputation being sullied was intolerable.
“Lord Glenkellie, I am but a humble captain,” Rafael said after a moment, his voice betraying the turmoil within him. “I have my post, my duties, but little else to offer. My family’s fortunes are not what they once were.”
“I think you know as well as I that the worth of a man is measured by far more than the weight of his coffers,” Alex replied, his tone firm, yet not without compassion.
“Indeed, but knowing one’s worth and proving it in the eyes of society are two very different things,” Rafael countered. The memory of his family’s semi-ruined castle and the neglected vineyard that once flourished under their care weighed heavily on him. “Clarissa is no ordinary lady, and she deserves a life of comfort and security.”
“Think on it, my friend. I ask only that,” Alex urged before leaving Rafael alone with the echo of his thoughts.
Silence enveloped Rafael as he stood there, the hum of the soirée beyond the walls a distant reminder of the world he navigated — a world where love and duty sailed on tumultuous seas. His heart whispered Clarissa’s name, but his mind echoed with doubt, caught between the fervent desire to court her properly and the gnawing fear that he could never give her the life she so richly deserved.
“Character and feelings,” he murmured to himself, repeating Alex’s words as if they were a lifeline thrown into the churningwaters of his doubt. Clarissa’s presence had brought a vibrancy to his life that he hadn’t realised was missing. Her fearless candour and lively intellect matched his own unyielding spirit. Would it be enough?
“Can love truly be blind to the stark realities of wealth and position?” Rafael pondered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. The laughter and music from the soirée seemed to mock his inner conflict, serving as a reminder of the joy that felt just beyond his reach. In the solitude of the dimly lit corridor, Rafael considered the possibility that perhaps he could offer something far greater than riches—a partnership of mutual respect and understanding, the kind that could weather any storm.
“Perhaps the truest form of courage is to face one’s fears for the sake of love,” he concluded, the idea taking hold like the first light of dawn piercing through the darkness. With a determined exhale, he pushed away from the wall, his resolve hardening with each step as he made his way back to the ballroom, back to Clarissa, and to whatever future might unfold with her by his side.
Chapter Eight
The clear blue skyover Florence held the promise of a beautiful day. However, the glorious weather did little to ease Rafael’s troubled thoughts as he gazed contemplatively out the window of his opulent suite at the Villa Ginori. His mind was consumed with uncertainty over whether or not to confess his growing feelings for Clarissa. The memory of Alex’s meaningful words about her need for a swift and respectable marriage weighed heavily upon him.
Rafael let out a weary sigh, his emotions turbulent. He cared deeply for Clarissa, more than he could have imagined. Yet he continued to question whether he could provide her the life she deserved as the daughter of an earl.
His conflicted musings were interrupted by an urgent pounding at the chamber door. Before Rafael could respond, the doorburst open to reveal a breathless messenger wearing the uniform of Rafael’s ship.
“Captain de Silva!” the messenger exclaimed. “I come with news of gravest importance.”
Rafael’s heart clenched with foreboding. “Speak man. Has there been trouble with the Santa Dorotéia?”
“No Captain. I bear tidings regarding your sister.” The messenger hesitated only a moment. “Another Portuguese ship, the Santa Luisa, made port in Livorno a few hours ago and the captain relayed news from your family. Your sister, Senhorita Isabella, has fallen desperately ill.”
Rafael reeled at the news, steadying himself against the windowsill as a swell of anguish rose within him. Isabella was more than just his sister - she was the gentle heart of his family, a light guiding him home through even the darkest of storms. To imagine her life now hanging precariously in the balance was a blow Rafael could scarcely comprehend.
“Tell me... tell me everything,” he managed to rasp out, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears.
The messenger relayed every detail he knew of Isabella’s sudden fever and wracking cough. With each word, Rafael’s fear and desperation grew. His beloved sister needed him, yet the woman who had captured his heart was here in Florence. He was torn between two impossible choices, neither of which he could bear to make.
But deep down, Rafael knew his course had been charted from the moment he heard Isabella’s name. She was his family, his home—he would not fail her now when she needed him most. Steeling himself, he turned to the waiting messenger with new conviction.
“Return to the Santa Dorotéia and prepare to leave immediately,” he ordered. “I will follow you as soon as I am able to make my farewells here, and we shall return to Portugal with all speed.” A fleeting image of Clarissa arose within his mind’s eye—her unbound hair kissed by the sun, her fearless candour that had charmed and challenged him in equal measure. Everything in him protested against merely leaving her now, yet his duty called him home. Clenching his fists, he let out a cry of frustration.
“Rafael?” A voice at the door made him turn, and he saw Alex standing there, looking at him with concern. “Is something amiss?”
