Page 92 of The Heiress's Daughter
When she’d calmed a little, Izzy said, “So what’s the problem, ’Riss? You love Lord Randall and it sounds to me very much as though he loves you, too.”
Clarissa shook her head. “Even if he does love me—which I’m not at all sure about—he tosses endearments around like—like a farmer sowing seed! He’sa rake! Just like Papa.”
Izzy grimaced. “Not exactly like Papa. Papa would have ignored weeping children and he would no more have offered marriage to save someone’s reputation than fly. But I take your point. You’re worried he’ll break your heart, aren’t you?”
Clarissa’s nodded. “Rakes aren’t generally known for their fidelity, and I couldn’t bear it if…if…” Her face crumpled.
Izzy leaned forward and hugged her. “I know, love. I know.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I talked to Leo last night about your problem,” Izzy said the following morning after breakfast. She’d arranged to meet Clarissa in the summerhouse.
Clarissa blinked. “You discussed me with Leo?” It was a shock to think that Izzy would speak of Clarissa’s private problems with her husband, but she supposed that was what happened when people got married: all their previous relationships had to adjust. She wasn’t happy about it, but she didn’t say anything.
“Oh, don’t look like that, Leo won’t say anything.”
“I know, it’s just…”
“Leo is your guardian and Race is his best friend. And in any case, it was mostly Race we discussed, not you, goose.”
“Oh.” Mostly?
“He actually initiated the conversation. He was worried you might be under pressure to carry the betrothal through, against your wishes.”
“Pressure from whom?”
“Oh, society in general and Mrs. Price-Jones in particular.”
Clarissa sighed. “No, they don’t worry me that much. I don’t care what society thinks, and though Mrs. Price-Jones is eager to get me married and off her hands, she—”
“Why is that? She’s well paid to be your chaperone, and she has no income of her own.”
Clarissa chuckled. “Mrs. Price-Jones now has two very rich and eligible silver-haired gentlemen vying for her hand. You missed it all while you were on your honeymoon.”
“No!”
“Yes, and she’s told them she can’t even think about marriage, let alone decide between them, until I’m off her hands.”
“The clever old thing. Good for her. I knew she was looking for a second husband—she needs one, having inherited nothing from her first. So who are these silver swains—No, sorry, I don’t want to talk about her. It’s you we’re talking about.”
Clarissa sighed. She’d much rather not discuss her problems at all. But Izzy was determined.
“I told Leo I was worried about Race’s rakish reputation, and you know what he said?”
Clarissa waited.
“He thinks that Race’s reputation is much exaggerated.”
Clarissa was skeptical. “Oh, really? In what way?”
Izzy pursed her lips. “That’s where Leo became annoying. Said he refused to discuss Race’s private affairs, and that if you were worried about his reputation, you should ask him about it.”
“Ask him about it?” Clarissa echoed incredulously. “What, just bowl up to him and say, ‘Oh, Lord Randall, are you the rake everyone says you are?’ ” She snorted. “And of course he would say no, of course not and that he was the next bestthing to a saint, and then what? I’m supposed to take his word for it?”
“I know, ’Riss, it’s not ideal, but what else can you do? You love him, don’t you?”
Clarissa pressed her lips together and looked away. She couldn’t admit it, not out loud, not even to her beloved sister.
