Page 58 of A Duke's Temptation Poetess
“It would upset any man,” Colin replied, “especially when he finds rakes to be detestable and has devoted himself not to become one.”
Watford raised his hands, as if in surrender. “Right, so you have resolved not to be a rake, and you hate when people call you that. Now, you have found a young, respectable lady who loves you, and you have decided that you are somehow unworthy of her; despite your insistence that you are not a bad man.”
“I am not a bad man, but I am not as good as Lady Clarissa is. She is too lovely. That is all.”
“Well, lovely she may be, but she is on the verge of being put on the shelf,” Watford said. “She is desperate to wed.”
“She is not.”
“She does not want to be, but it is surely a matter of concern for her. If you do not pursue her, there is a chance that someone else will.”
Colin’s breath caught in his throat. Watford had voiced a thought that Colin would rather not acknowledge, and it brought forth all of Colin’s coiled anger for Lord Creshire and the way that he had behaved around Lady Clarissa in the baths.
“She prefers me,” Colin said.
Their encounter in the garden was proof of that, and Colin remembered it with a surge of guilt. He should not have taken such liberties with the lady. When he saw her in the gardens, he should have turned away and left her. And yet Colin also felt a smouldering knot of guilt curl in his chest. He remembered her face, as he rejected her. She had tried to appear unaffected and turned her head away, but even in the darkness, he had caught the telltale shine of tears falling down her fair face.
“I believe she does,” Watford said. “However, you must remember that she does not know that Lord Creshire is a villain. If he expresses an interest in her, which you do not, there is a chance that she might assume you do not return her affections.”
Colin clenched his jaw. The thought of Lady Clarissa marrying that snake made his pulse quicken and his heart beat all the more quickly. “She would not marry that detestable man.”
Watford sighed. “For your sake, I hope not. If you love her, though, I think you need to make that known to her. You deserve something good in your life; you know. Maybe Lady Clarissa is that for you.”
Colin frowned. “Let us suppose that I have already ruined my chances with her?”
“When you sayruined…” Watford trailed off, fixing Colin with a concerned expression.
“I mean that I may have given her reason to believe that I found her undesirable,” Colin replied.
He had made her cry. Surely, Lady Clarissa would not forgive him for that. If anything, the more she contemplated the incident, the more upset she would become with him.
“You will never know until you discuss the matter with Lady Clarissa,” Watford said. “You may be required to grovel a little, but if she loves you, I imagine she will forgive you. If she does not, at least you will know that you tried. You will never forgiveyourselfif you do not make the effort, at least.”
***
Clarissa sat with Jane. They were in Jane’s bedchamber at the Spencer residence, Clarissa seated beside the window and gazing out at the gardens. Jane had only just finished being dressed by her lady’s maid. She crossed the room and sat beside Clarissa, who moved a little to make room for her cousin on the settee.
“Is there something you wish to tell me?” Jane asked.
Clarissa pursed her lips together in a thin line. It was not that she found the question particularly vexing, but she was a little embarrassed that her cousin had so readily identified that there was some matter haunting Clarissa. At last, she sighed. “It is complicated, Jane.”
Clarissa could still remember the fire she felt inside her, the ache and the need which sparked from His Grace’s touch. She remembered how his name had felt on her lips, a small burst of excitement flooding through her as she spoke to him so informally. So intimately.
Her eyes still ached from the tears she had shed the night before. She had not anticipated the Duke of Hartingdale rejecting her, but he had. Now, what was she to do? A dull ache seemed to have drifted into her entire body.
“Perhaps,” Jane said, “speaking about what troubles you will help. I have often found comfort in discussing such matters.”
“You sound like Lord Creshire,” Clarissa said. “He said I ought to express my feelings, too.”
Jane smiled awkwardly. While it was apparent that Lord Creshire did not know about Clarissa’s own conflicted feelings towards her father and his death, she knew them all too well.
“This time, I think you should. There is clearly something amiss with you. Most of the morning, you have been quiet and melancholy, gazing out that window as if it will offer you some answer,” Jane said.
Clarissa took a deep breath. She pulled her knees up to her chest and let her chin rest atop them. It was hardly a respectable way for a lady to sit, but after last night’s events, Clarissa was not surerespectableeven applied to her anymore.
“Well,” Clarissa said. “I suppose I should start from the beginning. My mother desperately wants me to marry the Duke of Hartingdale.”
Jane laughed. “Everyone could tell you that. I would be surprised if a single person in the whole town of Bath does not realise your mother’s aim.”
