Page 3 of Snowbound with the Scoundrel
Many a family fortune depended on these hotly debated issues, so it was easy to imagine that Mr.Baxter might have enemies.
Unfolding the second sheet of paper enclosed, she saw that Sir Henry’s thoughts had gone in a similar direction:
Possible Suspects:
(1) Mr.Ulysses F.Humphrey—Mr.Humphrey’s fortune is derived from a large sugar cane plantation on the island of Antigua employing slave labor.He faces significant losses should the emancipation proposals Mr.Baxter supports succeed.
(2) Mr.Richard Garroway—MP representing the pocket borough of Dunwich.Most of the town has fallen into the sea, leaving only thirty-two voters in the entire constituency.If Mr.Baxter succeeds in passing parliamentary reform, Mr.Garroway will surely lose his seat.
A different hand, one Clarissa recognized as that of Lady Winnifred, had scrawled an additional name in the lower margin:
(3) Arabella Anstruther, Dowager Duchess of Kimbolton—a good friend of Lord and Lady Helmsley and likely to be in attendance.Mother of fourteen children including eleven boys.Mr.Baxter has advocated for church livings and political appointments to be granted based on merit, rather than connections.He has been vocal in shaming those who bequeath positions in their gift to unqualified family members or who sell them outright.This has made it impossible for a number of the duchess’s shiftless sons to secure a living, and I have heard her complain bitterly about the expense of maintaining them out of the family coffers.She will become increasingly desperate as more of her sons reach the age of majority.
Clarissa sat back.How like Lady Winnifred to consider not only the male guests, but also the ladies.It was a good reminder that Clarissa must scrutinize every possible suspect.
She noted her letters of introduction to Lord and Lady Helmsley and to Mr.Baxter, still folded and sealed.Tucking everything back together, she returned the letter to her valise and settled against the thin grey squabs.
Just as the brick at her feet lost the last of its heat, the coach hit a bump, jolting her slumbering companion awake.
He blinked groggily, then did a double take as he saw that he was not alone in the coach.“Blimey!I do beg your pardon, miss.Wouldn’t have nodded off had I realized I wasn’t alone.”He gave a great, seemingly involuntary yawn.“I’ve come up straight from London, you see, so I’m just about fagged to death.”
Clarissa did not see, not precisely, but she took it that this meant he was tired.“That’s quite all right, sir.”
He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand.“Won’t be much longer now, though.I’m only going through to Helmsley.”
“Helmsley!”Clarissa exclaimed.At his curious look, she explained, “That is my destination as well.I don’t suppose you are bound for Helmsley Castle?”
“Happens that I am.I’m en route to the earl and countess’s house party.”
“As am I,” Clarissa said.
He smiled at her, and something inside Clarissa shifted.He wasn’t what you would call classically handsome.In addition to the bump on his nose, his smile was lopsided, and his fair hair a bit too shaggy.But in spite of these flaws, his features somehow came together in a way that was tremendously appealing.
She decided it was because he looked so affable, as if he were utterly delighted to find himself with her in that carriage, in spite of the fact that he wasfagged to death, whatever that meant.And the impression that someone was genuinely pleased to be in your company held a strong allure.
He shook his head, rueful.“But look at me—I’ve gone and put the cart before the horse!I pray you won’t tell Lady H.how I prattled on without remembering to make introductions.”He smiled again, holding out a hand.“I’m Rupert.Rupert Dupree.”
The carriage veered off the road and tumbled over a cliff, falling end-over-end until it finally smashed into pieces on the rocks below.
Not really.But that was how receiving this news felt to Clarissa.It was impossible to understate how discombobulating it was to learn that the amiable fellow sitting not three feet away wasRupert Dupree, the very cad who had jilted her in the most humiliating manner possible and made a very creditable attempt at ruining her life!
His smile faltered.“I say, is everything all right?”
Was everything all right?Of course, everything was not all right!She was stuck in a carriage with Rotten Rupert, and if she somehow managed to survive that, she would find herself confined to the same remote, snowbound castle for weeks on end!
Clarissa gripped the seat cushion as hard as she could, as she thought it a good idea to give her hands something to do other than reaching across the carriage to strangle him.
He studied her, concern creasing his brow.“Say, you’re not about to flash the hash, are you?”
This nonsensical medley of words managed to penetrate her angry red haze.“Am I about towhat?”
“You know—shoot the cat.Flay the fox.Cast the craw.”
“Cast the—” Clarissa peered at him, perplexed.“Are you asking me if I’m about to cast my accounts?”
He held both hands out in front of him.“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.I know carriage travel affects some people in that—”
“Mr.Dupree!”Clarissa snapped.“You have misunderstood.I am not feeling remotely queasy.I was merely startled when you said your name because”—she drew herself up, lifting her chin—“I am Clarissa Weatherby.”
