Page 56 of A Captain For Clarissa
Clarissa giggled, feeling lighter than she had in days as she settled beside Diana. With her sister by her side, she finally dared to hope that somehow, someway, she and Rafael would find a way to be together. No matter what obstacles stood in their path.
As they entered Lady Ashbourne’s opulent drawing room, Clarissa plastered on a polite smile. The air was heavy with perfume and the cloying scent of too many bodies in too small a space. She scanned the room, her heart sinking as she recognized the familiar faces of several gentlemen her parents had put forward as potential husbands.
“Lady Clarissa!” Lord Pembrook materialised at her elbow, his florid face beaming. “How delightful to see you. Might I interest you in a game of whist?”
Clarissa suppressed a groan. “How kind of you to offer, my lord, but I’m afraid I’m feeling rather fatigued this evening. Perhaps another time?”
As she gracefully extricated herself, Clarissa’s thoughts drifted to Rafael. Was he attending other events, searching for her in vain? Or had he given up, concluding that her sudden absence meant rejection? Diana had promised to send a note around to Marianne explaining how ghastly Clarissa’s parents were being, but Clarissa hated feeling so powerless.
“This is intolerable,” she muttered under her breath, accepting a glass of tepid lemonade from a passing footman.
“Did you say something, my dear?” her mother inquired sharply.
Clarissa forced a bright smile. “Not at all, Mother. I was merely remarking on how... intimate this gathering is.”
As the evening wore on, Clarissa found herself cornered by one eager suitor after another. She longed for Rafael’s wit and easy conversation, the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed. These men, with their polished manners and empty flattery, paled in comparison.
Desperate for a reprieve, Clarissa excused herself and made her way to a secluded alcove, hoping for a moment’s peace. As she turned the corner, she collided with a tall figure.
“I beg your pardon,” she began, then froze as she recognized the man before her. “Mr. Dalton?”
Edward Dalton’s handsome face broke into a charming smile. “Lady Clarissa! What a delightful surprise.”
Clarissa’s mind whirled. “I... I thought you had returned to Durham. To your family.”
Dalton’s smile faltered for a moment before he recovered. “Ah, yes. Well, you see, my father had other plans. He’s ordered me back to London to find a wife.”
“How... convenient,” Clarissa replied, unable to keep a hint of suspicion from her voice. Something about Dalton’s explanation rang false, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.
“Indeed,” Dalton agreed, his tone light. “And how fortuitous to encounter you here. I’ve missed our conversations ,especially our time in Athens.”
Clarissa’s throat tightened at the mention of Athens. The memory of her kidnapping, and Rafael’s daring rescue, flooded her mind. She struggled to maintain her composure.
“Yes, well, much has changed since then,” she said coolly.
Dalton’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Has it? I had hoped we might rekindle our... friendship. Portugal was… well, we were not able to be quite sointimateas we were in Athens, but…”
Clarissa took a step back, her heart racing. “Mr. Dalton, I—“
“Clarissa, darling!” The Countess’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “There you are. And Mr. Dalton, how lovely to see you again.”
Clarissa turned to see her mother approaching, a calculating gleam in her eye. She groaned inwardly, recognizing that look all too well.
“Mother,” Clarissa said, forcing a smile. “Mr. Dalton was just telling me about his return to London.”
“And my father’s instructions for me to find myself a wife,” Mr. Dalton put in, bowing obsequiously.
“How wonderful,” the Countess beamed. “We must have you for dinner soon, Mr. Dalton. Won’t we, Clarissa?”
Clarissa’s smile felt brittle. “Of course, Mother.”
As they bid farewell to Mr. Dalton and made their way back to the main party, the Countess leaned in close to Clarissa’s ear.
“Mr. Dalton might not be quite what we hoped for in terms of wealth and position,” she murmured, “but he is from a good family. And at least he’s younger than some of the suitors your father favours.”
Clarissa’s temper flared. “Mother, surely you can’t be serious! Mr. Dalton was the one who told you about the... incident with the corsairs,” she hissed. “He betrayed my confidence and jeopardised my reputation! I cannot trust him.”
The Countess waved a dismissive hand. “Men often speak out of turn, dear. It’s nothing to hold against him forever.”
