Page 8 of The Boys of Summer
Clarissa didn’t make a sound. If she did, she knew he would push her away and refuse her help. Instead, she applied ointment to a bandage and began to gently apply it to the various wounds, her touch careful and light.
“You are the kindest person I’ve ever known,” he said softly.
“I don’t think you’ve known very many kind people,” she replied. “My father is cruel, but mostly just with words. He’s slapped me. He’s pushed and shoved and belittled me. But he’s never done anything like this. I’m so sorry, Gus. I’m so, so sorry.”
“One day, when I’m a man, and when he’s gone and can’t hurt anyone else that I care for, I will come for you, Clarissa. I will make you my wife, and I won’t let anyone else hurt you ever again.” The words were softly uttered, but filled with conviction. “I promise you that. But you have to promise that you will wait for me.”
“I will. I promise,” she said. And then she continued to tend his wounds until the very last one had been treated. Then they sat there in silence, only the sound of the waves crashing behind them. They were both children, but neither of them was innocent. Both of them had been too exposed to the cruelty of others to ever be that.
Chapter Five
They were nearingthe end of the dinner hour and he had barely been able to make eye contact with Clarissa. She was at the other end of the table, too far from him and studiously avoiding looking in his direction. Not that he could blame her of course. After that moment in the garden, when he’d nearly forgotten himself and given in to an urge that had nothing to do with honoring the promise he’d made and everything to do with indulging a base desire, he couldn’t risk another encounter with her until he had himself in check. He’d nearly kissed her, dammit. The urge had been so intense, so all consuming, that it wasn’t until he’d heard the distant laughter of a pair of approaching servants that he’d managed to pull back and put distance between them.
The meal ended, and as was the norm, the gentlemen went one direction and the ladies went another. Taking a seat in one of the leather club chairs that dotted the corners of Marchwood’s billiard room, he scrubbed his hands over his face. He conceded that he would need to be far more careful in his interactions with her. Kissing her would have been a disaster. Clarissa was undecided as yet. She was frightened of him and he could not blame her. They were strangers now, and her upbringing had taught her to fear men and expect the worst from them. As a man of honor, he would not force himself on her in any way, he would not do anything to frighten her. Not only for the sake of his honor, but also for the sake of securing her hand. He needed her trust to secure her agreement and he would not obtain it by taking liberties she was not ready to grant.
“You’re looking glum.”
The observation had come from the viscount who’d sidled up next to him. “I am glum.”
“Miss Milson?”
Augustus smiled. “Am I so obvious?”
“Only to one similarly afflicted. But I am curious. If you have not seen her since you were children in Margate… it seems your feelings for her are very intense after such a long absence from one another.”
It was a reasonable cause for concern. “When you met your viscountess, how long did it take you to know that you wished to marry her?”
The viscount was silent for a moment. “Touché.”
“It’s more than that, of course,” Augustus admitted. Henry was a friend… someone he could trust. “We made a promise to one another as children. I swore that when my father was gone and could not hurt her or anyone else I cared for, that I would marry her… and now—now is the time.”
“Your father,” Henry said through clenched teeth, “was a cruel and vicious bastard. A shy thing like Miss Milson would have been crushed underfoot by him without a by your leave.”
“As well I know… and to that end, in the name of courtship, I’d like to make use of a curricle or phaeton. Any open conveyance where I might take her for a drive would be most appreciated.”
“Of course! Anything I have is at your disposal,” Henry said. To the other two gentlemen in the room, he said, “We’re rejoining the ladies. You may linger here over your billiards if you like.”
There were nods. The men—two long married and one confirmed bachelor—had no desire to seek the company of the ladies. There was a tidy sum resting on that game.
With his plan secured, Augustus accompanied Henry to the drawing room to join the ladies gathered there. It was not a vast number in attendance. Only about twelve people were in the drawing room, in addition to the host and hostess. Still, the number of young, unmarried women in that group was higher than he would have liked. He’d learned the hard way that by virtue of being young, unmarried and a duke—he was always a target for matchmaking mamas. And there was only one match he was interested in making.
Angling his head, he glanced about the room until he found her. Then he fought his bemusement. He hadn’t seen her prior to dinner. But now, standing next to Lady Helmsley, her fashion choices were impossible to miss.
The gown was all wrong for her. The colors did nothing to complement the honeyed hue of her blonde hair, nor was the style of it flattering to her. It was too ornate, too laden with ruffles, flounces and bows. It bore the hallmark of a country dressmaker rather than a fashionable modiste. It looked like a gown for a child and while her features were delicate, her figure was anything but. She needed simpler gowns that allowed the loveliness of her face to shine and that allowed the more natural curves of her enticing form to be admired. If Lady Helmsley had chosen that frock, she needed to be banned from the modiste going forward.
After waiting what he hoped was a suitable amount of time, he closed the distance between them, striding across the room to where she stood conversing with a group of ladies.
“Miss Milson, would you do me the honor of taking a drive with me tomorrow? The viscount has agreed to lend me his curricle so that we might explore the countryside a bit.”
Clarissa was given no opportunity to answer. Lady Helmsley answered for her. “She’d be delighted. It will do her good to enjoy the fresh air after having been cooped up with me for so long. Don’t you think, Sophie?”
The viscountess nodded nervously. Why such a question would result in nerves for her was a mystery. “Well, naturally. Fresh air is always beneficial. Assuming, of course, that Miss Milson feels she is lacking fresh air. Are you, Miss Milson?”
Lady Helmsley glared at the viscountess. “She is. I assure you. Isn’t that right, Clarissa?”
Ignoring both the viscountess and Lady Helmsley, Augustus kept his attention focused on Clarissa. “Naturally, we will have a chaperone following along behind us in another vehicle. Every propriety will be preserved.”
“I will gladly go with you, your grace,” Clarissa finally managed. “Though I cannot imagine why you would go to such lengths.”
