Page 48 of A Captain For Clarissa
Clarissa stood rigidly beside her mother, her face a mask of polite indifference as Lord Weatherby leered at her from across the drawing room. Alex had warned her the man was old enough to be her grandfather, and indeed he must be sixty at least, grey-haired and paunchy. She felt ill at the very thought of letting him touch her.
The Earl’s booming voice filled the space, extolling the virtues of the match.
“Weatherby is a man of means and influence, Clarissa. He will provide handsomely for you and any children you may have.” The Earl fixed his daughter with a stern look, daring her to defy him.
Clarissa’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, the urge to scream building in her throat. She glanced at her mother, hopingto find an ally, but the Countess merely nodded in agreement with her husband.
“Lord Weatherby is a fine catch, my dear. You would be wise to accept his attentions.” The Countess’s tone brooked no argument.
Bile rose in Clarissa’s throat as Weatherby approached, his eyes roving over her figure with undisguised lechery. The cloying scent of his cologne assaulted her nostrils, and she fought the urge to recoil.
“My lady,” Weatherby said, reaching for her hand. “It would be my greatest pleasure to make you my wife.”
Clarissa snatched her hand away before he could touch her, propriety be damned. “I cannot marry you, my lord. I will not.” Her voice rang out, clear and defiant.
The Earl’s face reddened with anger. “Clarissa, you will do as you’re told! Lord Weatherby has graciously offered for you, and you will accept him.”
Tears stung Clarissa’s eyes as she turned to her mother, desperation clawing at her heart. “Please, Mama, do not make me do this. I cannot bear the thought of being his wife.”
The Countess’s expression softened for a moment, but she quickly schooled her features into a mask of determination. “It is for the best, Clarissa. Lord Weatherby will provide for you and protect your reputation. You must think of your future.”
Clarissa’s heart shattered as she realised her parents would not relent. They cared more for her marriageability than her happiness, more for their own social standing than their daughter’s dreams.
With a final, anguished look at her mother, Clarissa turned and fled the room, ignoring her father’s shouts and Weatherby’s startled exclamations. She would not let them control her destiny any longer.
Lavinia, the Countess of Creighton, followed her daughter into the bedchamber, her silk skirts swishing against the polished floorboards. “Clarissa, my dear, you must be reasonable,” she implored, her voice tinged with desperation. “Think of the family’s reputation. If word of your...indiscretion in Greece were to spread, we would be ruined.”
Clarissa whirled to face her mother, her cheeks flushed with anger and unshed tears. “And what of mylife, Mother? What of my happiness? Am I to be sold off to the highest bidder, regardless of my feelings?”
The Countess sighed, her shoulders sagging beneath the weight of her daughter’s accusations. “It is not as simple as that, Clarissa. We have a duty to uphold, a position to maintain. And Mr. Dalton… he made it clear that he will not keep silent forever.”
A chill ran down Clarissa’s spine at the mention of Dalton’s name. The man who had once seemed so charming, so attentive, now held the power to destroy her future with a few well-placed words. “What does he want?” she whispered, dreading the answer.
“He has hinted that he would be willing to marry you himself, to protect your reputation,” the Countess admitted, her voice heavy with resignation. “But your father refuses to consider it, at least for now. He is not the match we would want for you, a younger son with no title or fortune of his own - but if you will not have Weatherby, you may have no other choice!”
Clarissa’s heart lurched at the thought of being shackled to Dalton for the rest of her days. The man had nearly ruined her life with his loose tongue already, blurting to her parents! She did not trust him in the slightest.
“I will not marry him,” she declared, her voice ringing with conviction. “I will not marry either of them! And if that means I am ruined, then so be it.”
The Countess’s eyes widened in alarm. “Clarissa, you cannot be serious. You have younger sisters, think of them! Your father and I would have no choice but to disown you, to savetheirreputations, and then where would you go? How would you live?”
But Clarissa’s mind was already racing ahead, conjuring images of a life with Rafael in Portugal, far from the suffocating expectations of English society. “I will find a way,” she vowed, her chin lifted in defiance.
Before the Countess could respond, a knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” the Countess called, her voice weary.
The door opened to reveal Marianne, resplendent in a gown of emerald silk that set off her fiery hair. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said, her eyes darting between Clarissa and her mother.
“Not at all,” Clarissa said, relief washing over her at the sight of her aunt. “Please, come in.”
Marianne crossed the room to embrace Clarissa, her perfume enveloping them both in a soft cloud of jasmine. “I’ve been worried about you,” she murmured, pulling back to study Clarissa’s face. “Alex and I have hardly seen you since we returned to London - we’ve delayed going to Scotland to ensure that you were all right.”
The Countess cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “Marianne, perhaps you can talk some sense into my daughter. She’s refusing to consider Lord Weatherby’s proposal, and I fear she’s entertaining some foolish notions of running away.”
Marianne’s brows shot up in surprise. “Running away? To where?”
Clarissa hesitated, suddenly unsure of how much to reveal. But the warmth and concern in Marianne’s eyes gave her courage. “To Portugal,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “To Rafael.”
Marianne’s eyes widened, and she glanced at the Countess, who looked positively scandalised. “Clarissa,” Marianne said gently, taking her friend’s hands in her own, “I understand your feelingsfor Captain de Silva, but you must think this through. Running away would ruin your reputation, and your family’s as well.”
