Page 66 of The Heiress's Daughter
Men—for a change—not ladies.
Clarissa sighed. She told herself it was a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to bother her, but what she ought to feel and what she actually felt were two very different things.
Three more dances to go before supper. Clarissa was feeling tired. It was exhausting, making conversation with relative strangers and trying to appear vivacious and interesting. For two pins she’d tell her chaperone she had a headache and wanted to leave early, but she’d done that too many times recently. Besides, she didn’t like telling lies.
“Miss Studley?”
Recognizing the voice, she whirled around. “Mr. Clayborn. I…I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” She’d hoped never to see him again, but she supposed that was unrealistic.
“I had to see you. I need to—”
“Please, I have made my feelings clear on several occasions now, and I have nothing further to say to you.” She turned away.
“I only wish to apologize.”
She half turned to look at him. “You did already.”
“But we parted on such bad terms. I behaved disgracefully toward you and I haven’t been able to sleep for fretting about it.”
He did look a little pale and drawn.
He regarded her with puppy-dog entreaty. “Please grant me just a few moments of your time—just to say my piece and clear my conscience, and after that I’ll never bother you again.”
She hesitated.
“I promise.”
She sighed again. “Very well, say it.”And get it over with.
“Not here. There are too many eyes on us as it is. And ears.” He gestured. “What about over there, in that little anteroom? I could deliver my apology there in privacy and we’d be done in a matter of moments.”
There were a few people looking at them, she had to concede. And though she didn’t want to spend a single minutein Mr. Clayborn’s company, she could see he was determined on it and wouldn’t give up until she agreed. Best to get it over with once and for all. “Very well.”
He gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’ll go first, make sure the coast is clear, and you follow in a moment. That way we won’t cause talk.”
She nodded. It was all ridiculously cloak-and-dagger, but she just wanted it to be over. And the sooner the better.
He limped away and shortly afterward she saw him enter the anteroom. A few minutes later she followed.
“Thank you for coming.” He closed the door behind her and she heard a click. She turned to find him removing his coat.
She gasped. “What are you doing? Stop that at once!”
He tossed his coat aside. “This won’t take long.” Underneath, his shirt was ripped, one sleeve almost hanging off. He yanked off his neckcloth.
“I’m leaving.” She pushed past him and tried the door. It was locked.
“Open this door at—” She broke off. He was unbuttoning the fall of his breeches. The look in his eyes was grim and frightening. “Mr. Clayborn!”
There was a roomful of people on the other side of the door. She opened her mouth to scream for help, but before she could make a sound, he flung himself against her, clamped one hand over her mouth and pressed her against the wall so she couldn’t move. She clawed at him with her hands, but he twisted his cravat around them and jammed them behind her against the wall. She struggled, but to no avail. He was too strong for her.
Keeping one hand over her mouth, he used the other to yank at the neckline of her dress. It was well sewn and didn’t come away. He swore, and pulled harder at it, once, twice, and finally it ripped, exposing her shoulder and breast.
His gaze fell on her breast and the hold on her mouthloosened fractionally. Wrenching her head away she screamed as loudly as she could. “Help! Help!”
Almost immediately there was a crash and the door burst open. Lord Randall. Thank God!
He grabbed Mr. Clayborn by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off Clarissa, and almost in the same movement, he swung him around and felled him with an almighty punch. Clayborn collapsed on the floor, moaning.
