Page 93 of The Heiress's Daughter
Izzy said in a gentle voice, “So if you love him, you need to fight for him.”
“Fight for him? You mean I’m supposed to fight all these beautiful ton ladies who swarm around him whenever he steps into a room?” She formed her fingers into claws and put on a mock-fierce face.
Izzy laughed. “I don’t mean physically fight and anyway, I think they’d scratch you to bits—they’re much nastier and more ruthless than you could ever be.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I meant that you’ll have to confront your own fears and take a risk. If you did talk to him about his reputation, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“I’d be totally humiliated.” Even the idea of confronting him caused her insides to shrivel in embarrassment.
“Perhaps. But what if it cleared the air and you learned you could trust him more than you do now?”
Clarissa bit her lip. There was a long silence, then Izzy added, “Isn’t the possibility of your future happiness worth the risk of making a fool of yourself? In private. With only Lord Randall to witness it?”
Clarissa thought it over, then gave a long sigh. “I suppose so,” she admitted reluctantly. But she couldn’t imagine actually doing it.
“Well, there’s no hurry, just think it over. And now, shall we call on Lady Tarrant and her new baby?”
Clarissa rose quickly, relieved at the change of subject. “Yes, let’s. I’m taking her this bouquet of flowers and I alsosewed a little baby gown with embroidery around the neck—so sweet and tiny. What are you bringing?”
“Nothing I’ve sewn, for which she must be grateful—you were always better with a needle than me. I bought her a music box, which plays—or rather tinkles—the sweetest little tune. And Alfonso baked somepizzicati—delicious little jam biscuits—for her and the children.” She picked up the small basket she’d brought with her. “Shall we go? What about Zoë? Will she want to come with us?”
Clarissa smiled. “I suspect she’s already there. Most days she calls on Lucy, Lady Tarrant’s goddaughter and niece-by-marriage, who speaks French to her and they talk painting.” She chuckled. “Ever since Lady Scattergood made Zoë her ‘artist-in-residence’ she’s been working like fury, and she obtained special permission from Lady Scattergood to paint a family portrait of Lord and Lady Tarrant and the baby with the little girls.” She picked up the vase containing the bouquet of flowers, and said, “Shall we?”
The visit to Lady Tarrant went off beautifully. She looked tired but was glowing with happiness, and the baby was so sweet. They gave her their gifts and each of them took turns holding little Ross until he started to fuss and Lady Tarrant announced it was feeding time.
“I’m feeding him myself,” she told them proudly. “I know it’s unfashionable and everyone says James should hire a wet nurse but I never imagined I would be blessed with a child of my own, and now I have been, I want to experience everything.”
Clarissa, Izzy and Zoë made their farewells and filed out.
As they walked down the stairs the sound of argument broke out. Judy and Lina were squabbling over something. “I said—”
“No, you said—Isaid—”
Clarissa and Izzy glanced at each other and chuckled. “Sisters.”
“Did you two fight when you were growing up?” Zoë asked.
“Not often, but when we did…” They both laughed, then Izzy broke off in midchuckle and went suddenly thoughtful.
“What is it, Iz?” Clarissa asked.
“I’ve just had a wonderful idea.”
“Tell us.”
“Not here. The summerhouse, now—yes, you, too, Zoë. Let us hope that wretched Milly isn’t around.”
“If she is, I’ll chase her off,” Zoë said confidently. “She’s forever hanging around but I just talk nonstop French at her and she goes away.”
Chuckling, they made their way back to the summerhouse. There was no sign of Milly.
“Now what’s this idea?” Clarissa said when they were settled on their favorite chairs.
Izzy explained.
“It’s brilliant,” Zoë exclaimed when she had finished. “We did something a bit like that at the orphanage when some of the girls was makin’ up nasty lies about another one.”
