Page 4 of Snowbound with the Scoundrel
She had expected him to turn pale, for horror to come into his eyes as he was forced to face the woman he had so grievously wronged.
Instead, his genial grin returned, bigger than ever.
“Are you really?”He laughed, looking delighted.“Well, this is a bit of a chance, isn’t it?”
Clarissa stared at him, dumbfounded.What was going on?
It was as if he did not understand that he was the most repulsive person she knew.
Of course, there were precisely two things she knew about Rupert Dupree, and one of them was that he was remarkably dimwitted.Two years ago, whenever she had told someone about her betrothal, the conversations always went roughly the same way:
First, there would be some variation of, “Rupert Dupree?You lucky thing!”which was followed by a strangely inevitable fit of giggling.
Next, the qualifier: “To be sure, the man is as dumb as a door-hinge.Butstill!”
Clarissa had found this baffling.If her intended was indeed very stupid, why was she so universally regarded as fortunate?
She had attempted to ascertain the answer through discreet questioning.She had learned that, although Mr.Dupree had inherited an estate from a childless aunt that produced a respectable income of two thousand a year, he was not what you would call absurdly rich.Nor was he regarded as particularly handsome.His elder brother, Viscount Riddington, had already produced three sons, so there was no appreciable chance that he would one day inherit his father’s earldom.The source of his appeal remained elusive.
Finally, a similar conversation had taken place with someone Clarissa knew well enough to ask.She and her sisters were taking tea with Jane Crowley, the married daughter of their more prosperous neighbors, the Ramsays.Clarissa mentioned her recent engagement, and Jane promptly said, “Lucky girl!”then broke into the requisite fit of giggles.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”Clarissa moaned.“Because in the next breath, I know you’re going to tell me that he’s—”
“As dull as an anvil,” Jane supplied.
“Precisely!”Clarissa peevishly snatched a ginger biscuit from the tray.“What, I should like to know, is fortunate aboutthat?”
Jane’s eyes went wide.“Do you truly not know?”
“Know what?”
Jane glanced about as if to make sure her parents were not within hearing range.Instinctively, the four Weatherby sisters leaned forward.
Jane waggled her eyebrows.“Mr.Dupree is exceptionally talented in the bedchamber.”
Clarissa, who had never in her life been stunned speechless, found herself stunned speechless.She could feel her cheeks burning as she exchanged astonished looks with her sisters.
She set her biscuit on the saucer of her teacup with trembling fingers.“How do you know this?”she finally managed to blurt.
Jane laughed.“Rumors!Only by rumors, I swear.”She arched an eyebrow.“Although the rumors are remarkably consistent.So, cheer up, Clarissa—you may find yourself happier in this marriage than you think.”
The conversation moved on, even if Clarissa hadn’t been able to attend to a word of it.She had fumbled through the rest of the visit and was lucky not to have broken her teacup.
And now, here she was, face to face with the man who had humiliated her.Who was reportedly the most bacon-brained man in all of Britain.
Who wasexceptionally talentedin the bedchamber.
“How have you been?”he asked, voice brimming with affection, as if he were an old friend rather than her archnemesis.
“Not so well, Mr.Dupree,” she replied in a clipped voice.“Not so well at all.”
His face fell.“Oh, no.It’s not something to do with one of your sisters, is it?You have three of them, if I recall correctly.”
Clarissa lifted her chin.“You recall perfectly, and my sisters are thriving.In fact, my eldest sister, Eleanor, is recently wed to the Duke of Norwood.”
He leaned forward, abruptly cheerful again.“I heard about that!I was only in London for less time than it takes to milk an aardvark—”
Clarissa squinted at him.“Less time than it takes towhat?”
