Page 51 of A Duke's Temptation Poetess
Clarissa smiled. “I have never read Gildas,” she confessed, “but I have some notion of what he said. Do you make a habit of reading such dour works?”
“Only when I feel myself too happy.”
Clarissa searched her mind for something witty to say, but she found herself suddenly lacking in words. It took her a heartbeat to find her words again. “Perhaps you ought to leave this bath and seek out the wisdom of Gildas, then. You are looking decidedly miserable.”
“Alas, I have left Gildas at my townhouse in London.”
“Perhaps you can find an equally depressing alternative,” Clarissa said.
His Grace hummed, appearing as though he were deep in thought. “I do not think that my sister is fond of depressing literature.”
“You must try to recall what you have already read, then.”
He grinned. “I find that my memory is suddenly insufficient. I cannot recall a single text.”
“That is most convenient.”
“Is it not?”
Clarissa glanced at Lord Watford. Jane had drifted nearer to him; there was a small distance between them, but Clarissa would not exactly call it respectable. How could she even consider chastising her cousin when she remained so near His Grace, though?
“You will have to make your valet memorise the texts for you,” Clarissa said, “so you can ensure that you do not forget them.”
“A wise suggestion,” His Grace said, “but what am I to do if my valet is not present? Even if he had memorised all the texts for me, he is not here now and is, therefore, unable to aid me.”
“That is a dilemma. I suppose you must have him accompany you everywhere, then.”
“I do not know about that,” the Duke of Hartingdale replied. “It seems like a great deal to ask from one’s valet.”
“Perhaps you ought to hire many valets, then. One will be asked to dress you in the mornings and tend to those needs. Another must memorise every text that you read and be able to perfectly recollect it to you.”
“And suppose that he makes errors, as men are wont to do?”
“You would hire additional valets who would recognize the errors,” Clarissa said, smiling as she imagined His Grace walking through London with an army of valets following.
“Suppose that the valets disagree about whether there is an error or not?” the Duke of Hartingdale asked. “Then, what?”
“You must determine who is correct based on empirical evidence.”
“It is beginning to sound a lot like Parliament.”
Clarissa chuckled. “I would not know, but I believe forming your own personal Parliament is the most obvious solution to your problem.”
“Doubtlessly,” His Grace replied. “I can think of no reasonable alternative. I could simply devote more time to memorization of texts or accept this moment as an uncommon lapse, but why would I do either of those?”
“I can think of no reason.”
The Duke of Hartingdale chuckled. “I shall commence with finding suitable candidates at once.”
“Your Grace! Lady Clarissa! What a pleasure it is to meet the both of you here!”
Clarissa turned her head towards the voice. The speaker was the Earl of Creshire, who quickly joined them in the bath.
“Indeed,” said His Grace.
Lord Creshire smiled and inclined his head. “Lady Clarissa, I am especially delighted to see you again.”
Heat rushed to Clarissa’s face. She had never seen the Earl of Creshire in so little clothing before, and she had to admit that he made a dashing figure. He was as handsome as the Duke of Hartingdale, and he seemed genuinely pleased to see her. Clarissa felt a slight fluttering in her chest. She told herself that the Earl was only being polite, and yet she could not help but think of the possibilities.
