Page 4 of The Boys of Summer
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“What are youdoing here?” Clarissa finally blurted out. She’d been silent during their short walk, unable to give voice to the hundreds of thoughts that seemed to be flitting about in her mind. Her emotions were equally disjointed and out of control. Shock, hope, fear, relief, curiosity—she was assailed by so many feelings she could not even give name to them all.
“I came for you,” he replied softly. “Just as I told you I would.”
“Fifteen years ago,your grace.” She placed extra emphasis on the address given that she felt slightly betrayed that he’d kept something so significant from her.
“In all fairness, at the time I made my promise to you, and you to me, I didn’t know that I would be a duke. My older brother passed away before my father did, leaving me as the heir… much to my father’s disappointment.”
As explanations went, it was a poor one. “That does not change the fact that you deliberately concealed from me the fact that your family was of such lofty status. A lie by omission is still a lie!”
“I couldn’t risk it, Clarissa. Not while my father was alive. He would have gone to any lengths to destroy any chance of happiness for either of us—that was simply his stock in trade. For nothing more than the sport of it, he would have destroyed you because it would have hurt me. I had to wait for him to pass to protect you from him.”
The words were uttered with gut-wrenching sincerity and there was no mistaking the hatred for his father that blazed within him. Recalling the cruelty he’d suffered from his father, the aftermath of which she’d borne witness to, Clarissa could not fault him for that. Recalling the many bruises she’d seen on him as a child, the beatings he’d endured for the slightest infraction during the short time his father had been with them in Margate, she was astounded that he’d survived. Her own father’s cold indifference and casual cruelty had paled in comparison to the brutality he had endured. Of that she was certain.
“You cannot possibly think that I would hold you to a vow you made when we were children. Especially in light of your exalted title! You need to marry someone who will be an asset to you and I certainly would not,” she said.
“I was not the only one who made a promise, Clarissa. You promised, as well. Or have you forgotten?”
She had forgotten nothing. “I remember. I remember all of it. But you must admit that your title changes things. I am not the sort of woman who can thrive in the roll of duchess. I would be terrible at it and you would resent my bumbling attempts. I would embarrass you again and again.”
There was no time for him to answer. The gong for dinner sounded at that moment and they were all ushered into the dining room where a table was laid with beautiful china and cutlery, the crystal gleaming beneath the glittering chandeliers. In the center of each table, elaborate centerpieces of hothouse flowers were arranged in exquisite vases. In short, the viscountess, despite her somewhat humble origins, had made a grand success of her first house party.
Finding her seat amongst the crowd, she was placed next to her great-aunt who was staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and disapproval.
“You and the duke were certainly deep in conversation,” Agatha noted. “How long has it been since you spent the summer with me in Margate? Fifteen years?”
“Yes, fifteen,” Clarissa responded absently.
“You had much to say to someone you haven’t seen in fifteen years. And he clearly is not finished with the discussion.”
At that, Clarissa looked up and allowed her gaze to drift along the table until she saw him seated at the end near the viscount. His eyes were fixed very firmly on her. “I can’t discuss it here. I’ll tell you everything later.”
“You most certainly will,” Agatha stated firmly. “Your father could certainly take no exception to you making a match with a duke.”
Except that he’d already made a match for her with Squire Timble.There were contracts and agreements. And money. Money had changed hands already. It would be horribly messy. “Father can always take exception to anything.”
Agatha snorted softly, a sound of humor. “That is certainly true. I find it curious, Clarissa, that he even permitted you to come here this summer. He’s certainly been very put out with me for quite some time.”
Panic hit her then, clawing at her. Her hands began to sweat and she could feel her stomach tightening with fear. “It was convenient for him,” she lied.
“No. It wasn’t. When you were a child and could not be left to your own devices, I’m certain it would have been. But you are a woman grown. You do not need supervision now. Tell me the truth, Child.” The last was uttered not with the normal snark and sarcasm of her great-aunt but with gentle urging.
Unable to resist the offer of comfort, Clarissa confessed in a rush, “I ran away. Father went north for a hunting trip with his friends and I… I left without asking permission.”
“Why?”
“He wants me to marry Squire Timble… no. Not wants. Ordered. He ordered me to marry the squire. He said that he would drag me down the aisle of the church if need be,” Clarissa admitted. “His investments have gone horribly. There is no money left. And the squire has offered him a generous settlement with a hefty advance already having changed hands.”
Agatha blinked at her. “You are here to secure a husband when your father has already signed a contract?”
“Yes… well, no. I don’t honestly care if I marry at all. I’m simply trying to avoid having to marry Squire Timble!”
“When is this travesty of a wedding supposed to take place?”
Clarissa looked away from her great-aunt. Her voice filled with dread and disgust, she admitted, “The banns were read last Sunday. In ten days’ time, I am to be wed to the squire… willingly or not.”
Agatha let out a weary sigh. “Then we haven’t any time to waste. But what a hellion you have become, Clarissa!”
