Page 32 of A Duke's Temptation Poetess
“I know that the ton gossips about me being an incurable rake,” Colin clarified, “and I will confess that their accusations vex me more than they ought to. Because of them, I try to avoid the ton as much as possible, and I am uninterested in them knowing more about me, much less things that I enjoy.”
Lady Clarissa slowly nodded. “I suppose that makes sense, but they might think differently of you if you…” she trailed off. “If you told them what you enjoyed.”
Colin wondered wryly if she had been going to say,if you were not such an irredeemable rake.The comment would be deserved, admittedly, given his behaviour the day before.
“Good morning!” Aunt Matilda’s cheerful greeting cut through his thoughts as she entered, Lady Bentley at her side.
Colin swallowed his question for Lady Clarissa. He had planned to ask if she thought him a rake. Obviously, he could not ask that question before his aunt and the lady’s mother, but the need to know the answer nonetheless burned inside him.
“Good morning,” Colin greeted. “It is a pleasure to have you join us.”
“Always,” said his aunt.
Colin knew that Aunt Matilda wished he would visit her more. This journey was a God-send to her, an opportunity to spend some time in the company of her nephew and niece.
“I hope you enjoy the inn,” Colin replied. “Due to the weather, John thinks it best that we remain here until the rain has passed. Otherwise, there is a chance that we might be stranded on the road.”
“I would rather that not happen,” Aunt Matilda said.
“Likewise,” agreed Lady Bentley, a strange gleam in her eye.
Colin nodded. He took a sip of his tea and very consciously did not look at Lady Clarissa. She was a lovely woman, and he respected her. He also needed them to reach Bath as quickly as possible, so they could part ways and have that remarkably enchanting temptation removed from his path.
Chapter 16
Following breakfast, Clarissa and her mother retired to their rooms. Lady Bentley threw herself into a chair, lounging there as if she were a model posing for an artist to paint. Clarissa sat primly nearby. Upon returning to their rooms, she had immediately placed the book of poems in her travelling trunk. She had lost it once, and even though it had been returned to her, she had no desire to risk its loss once again.
“You must have risen very early this morning. Why did you not wake me?” her mother asked.
“It was early,” Clarissa replied, “as you said. I thought it best to let you sleep.”
“It is a pity that there were staff in the parlour with you and His Grace. Otherwise, that would have been the perfect opportunity to seduce him,” her mother said, sighing. “You would have had the chance to do it after dinner, if you have followed my plan.”
“I did not join him this morning because I wanted to seduce him,” Clarissa said. “It was only by chance that he and I were awake before you and Lady Matilda.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes. “And was it by chance that you happened in the parlour together?”
Clarissa could not decide if her mother was more disappointed or disbelieving. Given her desire to see Clarissa and His Grace wed, it was likely the former. “It was. I saw him, and he invited me to discuss poetry with him. That seems to be an interest of his.”
“So I have gathered,” Lady Bentley said. “It is very promising, too. See? You already know that you will be able to find some common ground. I am glad to see that you have come to your senses.”
“My senses?” Clarissa asked. “I still do not wish to marry him, Mother. I do not love him.”
“You do not need to love him,” her mother replied tartly. “I think a tolerable husband with a common interest is quite adequate for you. You refused to follow my plan, but still, I would advise you to seduce the Duke of Hartingdale before we arrive in Bath.”
It took all of Clarissa’s restraint not to sigh from exhaustion and frustration. Her mother simply refused to abandon this plan, and it was pointless to argue. This was at least the fourth time that Clarissa and her mother had discussed the matter, and Clarissa strongly suspected that neither of them were going to change their position any time soon.
“The Duke of Hartingdale and I would be a poor match,” Clarissa said. “That is obvious to me. Besides, I still have no dowry. Even if His Grace and I were well-suited to wed, I am certain that he would not have me.”
Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “That is why I specifically suggested that you be caught in a compromising position with him! Sometimes, men need a little nudging to act. You stubborn girl, I am giving you opportunity after opportunity, and you seem content to just cast them all aside! It is as if you care not a whit for either of our futures.”
Despite Clarissa’s resolve not to have this argument again, it seemed that she had plunged into disagreement with her mother once more. “I do care, but not enough to compromise my morals,” Clarissa said, feeling a little helpless.
She thought of a novel she had once read by Samuel Richardson’s.Clarissarecounted the struggles of a woman named Clarissa who wanted to remain virtuous and live a single life, only to have her efforts persistently thwarted by her family and the libertine Robert Lovelace.
Clarissa’s initial interest in the novel had been that she shared the heroine’s name; however, it was difficult not to see the parallel in their situations now. More chillingly, Clarissa in the novel had died a very noble death, but a death, nonetheless.
It was difficult to blame her mother, though, even as she kept suggesting different plans to seduce the Duke of Hartingdale. If they lived in a world where women had more power to survive on their own, her mother would not have been so conniving or so desperate. Clarissa was sure of it.
