Page 30 of Snowbound with the Scoundrel
He made a show of patting his pockets.“Dash my wig, I seem to have forgotten my spectacles.Any chance you could read it to me?”
That was how he had come to make Sir Henry’s acquaintance.As Mr.Johnson predicted, Sir Henry had use for him.He’d gone through a month of training, and then it was off to the Continent.
Working for the Home Office made Rupert feel useful.Which didn’t sound like much, but prior to that, Rupert had never felt useful, not once in his life!It was heady stuff for a fellow like him.
The point was, he was here at Helmsley Castle to do a job.He wasn’t looking to bother Clarissa Weatherby, even if she was everything Lady Milthorpe had promised him and more.
Whenever he finally got to speak with her, he was going to be professional.
He was already enough of a fool without making an idiot of himself over Clarissa.
The three days following the assassination attempt were amongst the strangest of Clarissa’s life.
She waspopular.She, Clarissa Weatherby, the most notorious wallflower in all of England, hadsuitors!A good half-dozen of them, and they hovered around her from the moment she came down to breakfast until she locked the door to her room each night.Frankly, it was inconvenient.She had a murderer to track down.She didn’t have time to humor every second son in the North Riding.
Even more perplexing, most of her newfound suitors seemed convinced that the path to her heart could be forged through flowery compliments and romantic gestures.She couldn’t turn around without someone presenting her with a posy of flowers collected from the hothouse or plying her with eggnog.When one man declared that he woulddieif Clarissa did not save a dance for him at the upcoming Christmas ball, she snorted out loud and only barely managed to convince him that she had something caught in her throat.
Had those men known her at all, they would have realized that they would have fared far better by making acerbic remarks or pointing out an interesting article in the newspaper.It was jarring to realize how closely her treatment was tied to her appearance.She had been thought dowdy in her dirt-colored dresses, and men had mostly ignored her.But those men who did bother to speak with her had quickly recognized her keen intelligence, which was usually not seen as a mark in her favor.
But put her in a pretty dress, and most men seemed to assume she didn’t have a thought in her head beyond fashion and fripperies.It apparently did not matter what words emerged from her mouth.The same sardonic retort that before would have marked her as the worst sort of bluestocking was now glossed over with a chuckle, and the conversation would promptly revert to the same set of banal topics that were apparently of interest to most young, unmarried women.
Only Richard Garroway seemed to appreciate that Clarissa was anything other than a pretty shell.If she had thought the young M.P.was flirting with her during her first dinner at Helmsley Castle, he was really pouring on the charm now.But she did not form the impression that his heart was in any way engaged.It seemed to be more a matter of,I have to marry someone, and you’re pretty enough and come with twenty thousand pounds, so why not?
The same applied to Clarissa’s other suitors.From what she could tell, they could find uses enough for her dowry, and they certainly wouldn’t mind having her in their beds.But they didn’t evenseethe real her, much less love her.
Clarissa did find one advantage to her newfound appearance, and that was amongst the women.She could no longer hide on the room’s fringes, but she didn’t need to.She was accepted readily by the other ladies.
And so it was one afternoon, when the women had gathered in an upstairs parlor to sew and gossip, that Clarissa casually took a seat on the sofa next to Arabella Anstruther, the Dowager Duchess of Kimbolton, whom Lady Winnifred had identified as a potential suspect.
Clarissa introduced herself and pulled out the unembellished handkerchief Lady Emily had provided her.It was convenient that her trunks had been lost, so she had an excuse for not having brought any needlework.In truth, Clarissa had little patience for embroidery and possessed only a basic competence with a needle and thread.
She tried to make neat stitches for once in her life as she considered how to initiate a conversation with the duchess, but there was no need.Clarissa was the juicieston ditat the house party, and the duchess was eager to have some firsthand gossip to spread when she returned to London.
“You’ve become quite popular, haven’t you, Miss Weatherby?”
Clarissa attempted a self-deprecating smile.“I’m not sure aboutquitepopular.But even having one man interested in speaking with me is more popularity than I’ve ever enjoyed before.”
The duchess cackled.“Oh, you’re popular, all right.And you’ll have even more suitors come spring, should you go to London.”
Clarissa shook her head.“It’s all so new to me.I’ve never mixed in such high society.”She dropped her voice low.“If it’s not too forward of me, could I ask Your Grace to advise me?”
If the gleam in her eye was any indication, this request was not too forward at all.In fact, Arabella Anstruther probably would have offered her opinion whether Clarissa had requested it or not.“Don’t even think of accepting any of the men sniffing around you now.Believe me, you’ll be able to attract better options.”She laughed.“I’m tempted to throw one of my sons across your path.Goodness knows they need sensible wives, and with your dowry and connections, they couldn’t do much better.Although I suspectyoucould.”
This was the opening Clarissa had been looking for.Lady Winnifred had written that the duchess’s possible motive stemmed from her sons, who were reportedly having difficulty finding lucrative church livings and sinecures, thanks to Oliver Baxter’s campaign that these positions should be granted based on merit rather than connections.
Clarissa tried to look interested as she made a crooked stitch.“Do you have many sons, Your Grace?”
“Eleven of them, if you can countenance it.”
“Eleven!”Clarissa feigned a startled laugh, as if she had not read this very piece of information in Lady Winnifred’s note.“Are they all unmarried, then?”
“Not all of them.Joseph is married, and Charles.And William will have no trouble—he is the duke, you see.But the other eight…”
She launched into a lament about how difficult it was to see her eleven sons respectably settled.If she was hoping to convince Clarissa to take one of them on as husband, she had a curious way of showing it, for she described a variety of indecorous behaviors and spendthrift tendencies that did not render Clarissa eager to request an introduction.But Clarissa was starting to suspect that the duchess tended to be indiscreet in her conversation.
“I had been certain my cousin, Lord Draper, would award the bishopry to my third-eldest son, Cropley.”The duchess shook her head.“But then, he went and granted it to some nobody, just because he had been made a Doctor of Divinity by Cambridge!”
Clarissa clucked sympathetically, but privately, she found the duchess’s assumption that Lord Cropley would receive a bishopry astonishing.Had she not just complained that he had recently spent the night in gaol, having been arrested along with his friends after a drunken evening spent tipping night watchmen over in their boxes?And, gracious, if he was the third-oldest son, he must be at least thirty, meaning that this vile behavior could not be written off as a youthful folly.
