Page 5 of A Duke's Temptation Poetess
His aunt’s face brightened as Colin shrugged into his jacket. Watford stood, too. “Well, I dare say it is well past time that we go,” he said cheerfully.
“Indeed,” Colin replied. “Shall we, my dear aunt?”
He offered his arm, which his aunt accepted with a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I know that you detest these events, but it means so much to me that you are willing to make an appearance at my ball.”
Aunt Matilda’s event was the last of the Season. It was the one that would linger in the ton’s mind as they returned to their country estates, retreating from the crisp coolness of autumn. Colin did not want his absence to be what they remembered.
Swallowing his pride, Colin and his aunt Matilda left the billiards room. Watford came behind them. As they entered the ballroom, Colin could not help but notice how the volume changed. It grew quieter, but more excited all at once.
Mothers suddenly seemed eager to whisper to their daughters while shooting furtive glances at him. Colin forced the best smile he could, hoping that the expression betrayed none of his inner turmoil as the first wave of mothers and daughters descended upon him, just like the waves on the coastline of Aberystwyth, Wales.
Chapter 3
Clarissa stared hard at Lady Anna’s dress. It was a soft grey garment, and when it caught the candlelight, it shimmered like something beautiful and otherworldly. Pen pressed against her lip, Clarissa stood by the wall just a small distance away from where she had begun the night and tried to find the perfect way to render such a lovely image into words.
Was it starlight? Or sunlight shimmering upon the lake?
Lady Anna twirled in the dance, her skirts awhirl. Her face was bright and jubilant, and her partner, a sinfully dashing man, grinned back at her. They made an interesting couple, Clarissa thought. Lady Anna looked so demure and her partner so mischievous, rakish even. Clarissa grimaced. That smile reminded Clarissa that she had only just escaped her own mother’s efforts to find her a suitor.
The skirts whirled again, and there was the shimmer once more. Clarissa’s eyes fixed upon it again. She tried to find the words to describe such unexpected beauty. That shine of light upon the fabric was such a commonplace image, and yet, there was something intriguing about it.
Making beauty out of simplicity,Clarissa thought.The ordinary into something more, fabric into starlight, water, and diamonds.
She inhaled slowly, and the world seemed to grow small and narrow around her until all that remained were the skirts of Lady Anna’s dress and the way that the candlelight shined upon them.
Think of everything that is bright and light.
Clarissa thought of the stars and moon. She thought of the light sparkling on the water and the shine of gemstones. Part of why she loved poetry was that it had the ability to change the world. It could take the objects one encountered and transform them into something new and glorious with just the power of words.
Liquid starlight!
That was precisely what it was. Clarissa opened her notebook to record the phrase before she forgot it. She was not entirely sure how this particular poem would take shape, but she felt that she imagined the bones of it. Clarissa saw a noble,tragicheroine, like Guinevere or Clarissa Harlowe, her own namesake.
She saw a dashing hero, a little rakish but harmless. Forever charming and faithful, unlike most real rakes. And there would be starlight and the waves of the sea.
It felt like a doomed romance to Clarissa. This would be one of those passionate and beautiful things which could not last. As far as Clarissa knew, that was how love truly was. She imagined that if she ever fell in love, it would be beautiful and all-encompassing and ended without warning. Yes, and her heroine would be distraught. She would cast herself into the sea and become the foam upon the waves.
Then, something changed. It was nearly imperceptible at first. The sound in the room seemed somehow altered. Clarissa frowned and raised her gaze from her book, unsure. The murmurings began, spreading through the room like a swarm of bees.
“It is him, at last.”
“Look! Do you see?”
“He is as handsome as I imagined!”
“Even more so!”
He? Clarissa pursed her lips together. She tried to return her attention to Lady Anna’s dress, but she had already moved and vanished further into the crowd of dancers. The song ceased, ending in applause and that same hushed assignment which rose in waves around her.
Frustrated, Clarissa shook her head and tried to remember the string of images which had woven together in her mind just moments before when she had gazed so intently at Lady Anna’s dress.
“Clarissa!” Her mother’s voice scarcely raised above a whisper, but to Clarissa, it was like the tolling of church bells. It was deep, brassy, and all-encompassing.
She started, as her mother’s hand grasped her wrist. Clarissa started, as her mother pulled her into the crowd of hushed, now-still dancers. She was so surprised by the sudden movement that her book and pen toppled from her hand, landing on the floor with a faintthud. The pen rolled away, the sleek silver implement vanishing from sight. A gasp tore sharply from her throat. “Mother, wait!”
“We cannot!” her mother exclaimed. “Can you not see already that the other mothers are falling over themselves to make introductions with him? There were only be a few dances left, and this is your opportunity to meet with him!”
Clarissa’s head snapped back. She tried to find her book, but it had already been lost among the crowds of the ton. So many of them were hurrying to greet His Grace. “But Mother, I have dropped my book.”
