Page 47 of The Heiress's Daughter
“Exactly. And I don’t know your chaperone very well, so…”
“Please,” Clarissa said. “I’d be very grateful for any advice you have for me. You mentioned experimenting?”
Lady Tarrant swallowed. “Yes. You see, with my first husband I’d, um, strongly disliked the marriage bed.”
Clarissa blinked. Izzy had told her it was glorious.
“It’s not the same with every man, you see, and with my first husband it was…” She shook her head. “So before I agreed to marry Lord Tarrant, I…” There was a moment of silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the children playing, then she said in a rush, “I let him take me to bed.”
Clarissa didn’t know what to say.
“Several times. In fact we spent several days alone together in a cottage in the country.”
“I…I see.”
“Morally reprehensible, I know, but we hurt nobody, and I have no regrets at all. In fact it made all the difference in the world to me. Because it was”—she sighed—“wonderful.”
There was another short silence, then she glanced at Clarissa and said, “Have I shocked you?”
“No, not at all,” Clarissa assured her, and it was true. She’d been surprised, yes, but mainly because she hadn’t expected such intimate revelations. But the way Lady Tarrant had described it—dealing with her fears by testingthem out before making a permanent commitment—seemed quite sensible to Clarissa.
“I’m glad, because it changed my life. Not a day goes past that I don’t give thanks that I was able to put aside my fears and try again. And so with James as my husband, and the three girls, and now this”—she laid a hand on her swollen belly—“I didn’t dream such happiness was possible.
“Now, I’m not advising you to let anyone bed you. That would be most inadvisable for an unmarried girl. You want this”—she patted her belly again—“to be a joy, not a mistake.” She smiled at Clarissa. “But a discreet kiss or two in private wouldn’t hurt.”
Clarissa nodded, recalling that Mrs. Price-Jones had once said to her and Izzy that you had to kiss a lot of frogs before you found your prince. It was not the kind of thing a chaperone usually said, but then Mrs. Price-Jones was not the usual sort of chaperone.
“Thank you, Lady Tarrant,” she said, and, feeling a rush of emotion, leaned across and hugged her. “It’s so lovely to be able to talk things over with you. I’m so very glad you’re our friend.”
“So am I, my dear, so am I.” She cocked her head and listened.
Clarissa listened, too, but could hear nothing. “What is it?”
Lady Tarrant put her knitting aside and rose awkwardly. “I can’t hear a thing, and with children that’s generally a sign that someone is up to mischief.” Her eyes danced. “Shall we go and see how Nanny is coping with those children of mine?”
After her chat with Lady Tarrant, Clarissa went to one of her favorite spots in the garden, the rose arbor. Zoë had remained with Lucy: the two were still enthusiastically talking painting and drawing. She was glad Zoë had founda friend, even though she was a little sad that Zoë had not embraced her sister quite so eagerly.
But it was natural that Zoë should be drawn to a young woman who had the same interests. Zoë’s mother had been a painter and an artist’s model, and now, remembering that caricature she’d drawn on the wall of the orphan asylum, it occurred to Clarissa that Zoë was probably quite a talented artist herself. She must buy the girl some art supplies.
Clarissa settled herself on the wooden seat and breathed deeply of the fragrances that surrounded her: roses, lavender and sweet Alice, which was buzzing with bees.
She plucked a leaf of lamb’s ear and, stroking the velvety surface meditatively, she considered the conversation she’d just had. Lady Tarrant had dealt bravely with the fears that had been holding her back, and her courage had been richly rewarded.
Clarissa considered her suitors. Really, taking everything into consideration, Mr. Clayborn came closest to the man she’d described on her list. He wasn’t a fortune hunter. He was kind, well-mannered and attractive. He wasn’t always a good listener, but he did respect her, that was clear. And he was a war hero, which meant he was brave and had risked his life to defend his country, and though that wasn’t on her list, it ought to mean something. Best of all, he wasn’t a rake.
He was certainly more suitable than Lord Randall.
She thought about what Lady Tarrant had told her.A discreet kiss or two in private wouldn’t hurt.
Yes. At the next opportunity, she would allow Mr. Clayborn to kiss her.
Race’s mind was in turmoil. Had Clarissa Studley agreed to an understanding with Clayborn? Or had the man made it up to save face after Race’s dressing-down?
He wanted to call on her and ask her straight out if it was true, but he couldn’t.
He’d let himself into Bellaire Gardens via Leo’s house the very next morning, hoping to find her in the garden, but though he looked everywhere, there was no sign of her, only a group of little girls playing under the eye of their nanny.
And of course he couldn’t just go and ring Lady Scattergood’s doorbell, not with that blasted butler.
