Page 13 of The Heiress's Daughter
But Clarissa hadn’t hesitated for a second. And the moment had been won.
“Hallooooo there, Race, hurry along, will you?” his cousin called from the other side of the pond. “We need to be heading back. I have an engagement this afternoon.”
“Oh, and so do I,” Miss Clarissa said. Race glanced at her, and she added, “I’m interviewing for a new maid, remember?”
On the way home, the traffic caused them to separate into pairs again, and this time Clarissa found herself paired with Maggie Frobisher. She felt a little self-conscious, now that Maggie knew about Lord Randall’s promise to Leo.
Clarissa had initially been thrilled that Lord Randall had gone to the trouble of arranging his cousin and her husband to collect Clarissa, circumventing Lady Scattergood’s decrees. She loved riding, and was so happy that Lord Randall had remembered it and organized an outing just for her. It had made her feel so special.
But he was just keeping a promise to Leo. The realization had taken some of the pleasure out of the outing.
Even when he’d peeled that apple for her, handing her each slice—reminding her of the romantic way Leo had done it for Izzy on a picnic one time—it didn’t feel romantic. No doubt it was just part of his “duty.” Besides, Lord Frobisher had done the same for his wife, so it was probably the conventional thing to do with apples: Lord Randall was just being polite.
She felt unaccountably low. And rather cross. Keeping an eye on her? It wasn’t as if she were some irresponsible child, needing to be watched. And she could peel her ownapples—if she had a knife, that is. She made a mental note to acquire a suitable knife.
Though where to keep it? Men’s clothing had numerous pockets. Ladies might have a tiny pocket for a small handkerchief, but otherwise they were supposed to carry their necessities in a dainty little reticule. It was so unfair.
“So, back to the seraglio?” Maggie said, breaking into Clarissa’s thoughts.
“It’s not in the least like a seraglio,” she said tartly, then apologetically softened her tone. “I can go anywhere I want with my chaperone. And as I said, Lady Scattergood is just doing what she thinks is right.”
“The restrictions don’t annoy you? They would drive me to distraction.”
Clarissa shook her head. “It’s only for a month, while my guardian is on his honeymoon.”
“And in the meantime you’re obliged to receive gentlemen callers in the company of their female relatives.” Maggie pulled a face. “I don’t think much of men who come courting with Mama or Auntie.”
Clarissa shrugged. “It’s a stratagem, that’s all. Like Lord Randall asking you to invite me to go riding.”
“I am hardly anyone’s aunt!” Maggie exclaimed in faux indignation. After a moment she added more seriously, “Just don’t let yourself accept some ‘suitable’ offer in order to escape, will you?”
“I won’t.” Clarissa gave her a thoughtful glance. “Is that what you did?”
“Heavens no. Quite the opposite—I refused so many eligible offers that Mama was getting quite desperate and making dire predictions that I’d end up on the shelf.” She laughed. “But it was worth the wait, because eventually I found my dear Oliver. Poor Mama almost fell on his neck with gratitude.”
They rode on for a few minutes, then Clarissa said, “Youknow, I really dislike that expression—‘on the shelf.’ They never talk about men being left on the shelf, do they?” It came out slightly vehement.
Maggie tilted her head and looked at her. “You’re not worried about being left on the shelf, are you?”
“No,” Clarissa said glumly. “My inheritance makes that unlikely. There are too many men in need of a fortune.” And that annoyed her, too.
“Yes, of course.”
“But even if I had no fortune and never married,” Clarissa continued, “I’d still refuse to think of myself as being ‘on the shelf.’ Ladies are not…notapplesto be placed on a shelf, waiting to be picked up at some man’s whim! Growing wrinkly while we wait.” She paused to let a costermonger cross in front of them, then added, “And if there is any picking to be done, I want to be the one doing it!”
Maggie laughed. “Brava, Clarissa! Yes indeed. We ladies are not apples! We will choose for ourselves.”
Clarissa blushed. It wasn’t like her to be so adamant and opinionated, especially with people she didn’t know well, but Maggie Frobisher was very easy to talk to. She might even become a friend. For most of her life, Izzy had been Clarissa’s only friend: now there were several women she felt she could call friends. It was a heartwarming thought.
Women didn’t care if she had a fortune or not. They didn’t care if she was plump or plain or even shy. Why couldn’t men be like that?
A short time later, they changed riding formats again, and Oliver, at his wife’s beckoning, pushed forward to accompany Miss Studley, while Maggie dropped back to ride with Race.
“I’ve decided I like her,” Maggie told Race. “I thought she was dull, but she’s not, is she? Quiet and a little shy, but quite spirited underneath it all. And a splendid equestrienne.”She cocked her head and regarded Race speculatively. “A case of ‘still waters run deep,’ don’t you think?”
Race arched a brow. “Fishing again, Maggie?”
She laughed. “How do you know I wasn’t taking about my darling Ollie? His still waters run very deep. And can be wonderfully exhilarating.”
