A Fraudulent Betrothal Read online

  ‘I’m glad you’ll be there to liven it up then.’ Clarissa felt she should add something to the conversation. ‘Remember this will be my first function in over three weeks.’

  ‘Oh, Marianne.’ Emily reached out her hand and clasped Clarissa’s arm considerately. ‘I keep forgetting. You must have been dreadfully ill to retire to the country.’

  ‘You can have no idea.’ That much, at least, was true. ‘Doctor Tynforde could not attend himself, but he sent his locum, only a young man, who straight away told Aunt Eleanor that I should need complete rest. Aunt Constance’s house in the country was perfectly situated. Not that I wasn’t bored to tears after the excitement of the city.’ Clarissa embellished the lie with all the nonchalance of an actress on the stage.

  ‘You missed so much,’ Emily sighed, when she recalled the amusements of the past few weeks, drawing forth one or two memories in particular. ‘The Penroses’ ball was a dreadful squeeze; only think, most of society must have been present.’ She laid her head on one side and fluttered her eyelashes. ‘Only not Leighton or you, of course. And Annabelle’s birthday was a positive romp.’

  ‘Oh, how I should love to have been there,’ Clarissa rejoined wistfully, wondering how her vivacious sister could ever have brought herself to miss such fabulous entertainments.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll soon be up to your usual tricks,’ Emily prophesied. ‘Do you remember the Somerleys’ ball?’ She laughed and went on to describe exactly the sort of high-jinks Clarissa suspected her sister might get up to.

  ‘I’ll be a married woman soon, remember.’ Clarissa was sure Marianne would have told the secret of her betrothal to her closest friend, and nor was she disappointed.

  ‘That never stopped you before.’

  Clarissa giggled, suddenly warming to her sister’s friend. ‘No, but it must.’ She seized Emily’s hand and looked into her eyes. ‘I trust to your good sense in keeping my tricks within bounds.’

  Emily giggled too. ‘You know I have none,’ she confided.

  Clarissa had already suspected this; Emily was no prattling fool, but her interests clearly ran little further than the latest fashions and enjoying the entertainments offered by society. She herself had other aims, and decided on an attempt to pump the girl. Marianne was still missing, and though her note had indicated she meant to return, a little detective work would surely not go amiss.

  ‘Have you seen Stephen lately?’ Clarissa vividly remembered her sister’s last communication and the name of the young man she’d mentioned in that letter.

  ‘No.’ Emily gripped Clarissa’s arm again, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘I haven’t seen him for weeks and nor should you. Leighton is not the man to be teased by a rival.’

  ‘Not for weeks?’ Clarissa sounded as disappointed as her friend expected.

  ‘No.’ Emily giggled. ‘Only think, Meredith was so stupid as to think you had eloped with him.’

  ‘Of course not,’ declared Clarissa, wondering just who on earth Meredith was. That was one story she’d have to quash before it developed. ‘I shall be officially betrothed to Leighton in a few short weeks, which is just as it should be. One should not forget old friends though.’

  ‘No indeed.’ Emily looked serious for once. ‘He did you a great service and he looked so dashing in his regimentals. I only wish he has come to no harm from Dalwinton.’

  ‘Harm?’ Clarissa clasped her hands to her bosom. Marianne had written nothing of this.

  ‘I dare say I’m over-reacting. He’s more probably returned to his regiment. They’re still stationed on the Continent I believe.’

  ‘What about Dalwinton?’

  ‘Leighton will be back in a day or two,’ returned Emily easily. ‘Dalwinton will back off when he’s around, I can tell you. From what I could make out from your aunt, I doubt you’ll be out and about much before.’

  She drew a book of fashion plates out of her reticule and before long the two were chatting and giggling over the latest fashions just as though they were the two old friends they were supposed to be. Soon they were drawn into discussing the latest and most scandalous of society gossip and news of all their friends, and if Clarissa sometimes displayed an alarming lack of knowledge of events and people she didn’t know, Emily seemed neither to notice, nor to care.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lord Leighton

  Lord Leighton’s morning call sent the Markham household into frenzied preparations. It was Edward who answered his peremptory knock and showed him into the library, before racing down the corridor to apprise Mrs Markham of her unexpected visitor. That lady at once desired her husband to engage his lordship until Clarissa could be made ready, and dispatched Edward to rouse Downing into providing suitable refreshment.

  ‘Sophie too,’ she reminded the young footman. ‘She must be awaiting Marianne with a change of gown.’ The slightest of pauses while she mentally reviewed the girl’s wardrobe. ‘The sprigged muslin,’ she decided, ‘and, as for the rest, I will attend Marianne myself.’ She couldn’t trust the maid, nor Clarissa either, not to make a fashion faux pas on this most important of occasions.

  ‘Marianne.’ She hurried down a narrow rear corridor, shouting out her niece’s nom de plume while she headed towards the garden.

  ‘I’m here, Aunt,’ said Clarissa, quite unaware that her patient work in arranging fresh blooms in vases was the talk of the servants quarters, since the vivacious Marianne had never concerned herself with anything so mundane. Sophie had been questioned on the matter, though that young lady had steadfastly refused the chance to make her suspicions public.

  ‘To your room, child, at once,’ gasped Eleanor. ‘Leighton has returned to Town and seen fit to call upon us. I’ve desired Sophie lay out the sprigged muslin, which will go very well with the pale-green satin bodice I bought you last month. A chemisette to match the muslin and fill in the neckline also.’ Clarissa’s aunt knew very well that neither Marianne, nor her maid, would think it out of place to wear a low-cut bodice when attending the man to whom she was secretly betrothed; Clarissa, she judged, had far more good sense, but it was always as well to make sure. ‘I’ll be up to attend you on the instant.’

  Clarissa skipped up the stairs to her room, outwardly showing no trace of the turmoil that troubled her mind. Leighton! She’d counted on him being gone from Town for several more days. Didn’t he have enough property to keep him busy? Bad enough she had to nerve herself to fool society; now she had the man her sister was betrothed to on her plate. It was all very well for Aunt Eleanor to insist they’d never been left alone, but she knew Marianne better than her aunt. If her sister had wanted to spend time flirting with the man, she’d have engineered it somehow. Probably have allowed him to kiss her too!

  In the event, Clarissa’s entry to the library was as triumphant as anything Eleanor could have desired. Her neckline may have been modest, but the classical cut of the flowing muslin drapery clung to her form, emphasizing a neat figure that needed no stays to enhance its slim lines. Gaitered slippers in pale-green kid, matched the pretty half bodice and displayed her delicate feet which twinkled across the floor towards her betrothed.

  ‘Lord Leighton,’ she began, then a trifle self-consciously corrected herself. ‘Richard. How kind of you to visit when you must be exhausted from all your travelling.’ She held out one dainty arm in his direction, silently cursing herself for such a stilted speech.

  Leighton, for his part, stood up to receive her, taking her hand languidly in his own and carrying it politely to his lips. It was well done and performed with an ease that told of long practice, but there was a lack of any real emotion in his demeanour that warned Clarissa he wasn’t altogether interested in the activities or even the person of his affianced wife. Thank God, was her only coherent thought for this lowering discovery.

  ‘The pleasure is all mine, my love.’ Her betrothed made no attempt to hang on to her hand. ‘After all the alarming symptoms I’m apprised of, I’m pleased to see
you looking so well,’ he told her more earnestly than the lazy drawl related. ‘It’s true I only returned from my estates late last night, but I came at once when I heard the story of how your suffering had forced you to leave Town. I believe you spent some time recuperating at your aunt’s house in the country. I should have called upon you there if I’d known.’

  Clarissa dropped her head into the slightest of bows. ‘I ought to have made it known to you, sir,’ she admitted.

  ‘How could you, when you didn’t know where I was?’ Leighton made little of the affair. ‘I should like to know your aunt’s direction once we’re married, of course, but I hope never to make undue calls on your time.’ He bowed and led her to a seat close to his own.

  ‘I fear you wouldn’t have been admitted to my bedside even if you had visited, my lord.’ Clarissa thanked God Leighton hadn’t thought to visit her aunt, though she seriously doubted whether he had any real interest in her imaginary illness. More likely he’d heard the same story Emily had, that Marianne had run off with a penniless officer, and come to discover the truth. At least her appearance would scotch those vicious rumours.

  ‘Your aunt could not have been so unkind as to keep me from you,’ he replied to her with a polished, if detached, politeness.

  Damn the man, he was acting as off-hand about Marianne’s disappearance as … She felt herself blush for her sister. Where was the girl? She was as much to blame as he. The one always playing tricks and him so high in the instep, and for what reason?

  Leighton had fallen back into conversation with her uncle with a facility that must have been as galling to Marianne as it was to her. It did, however, give Clarissa the chance to observe him at her leisure without appearing rude.

  Richard, Viscount Leighton, stood, she judged, somewhat over six feet in his stockinged feet. Clarissa and her twin, Marianne, were considered quite tall by feminine standards, but he topped her by almost a head, though his height might be somewhat exaggerated by his upright stance which gave him the unfortunate appearance of staring down his nose at one. Late twenties or early thirties, perhaps. A handsome face, she had to admit; a little too long for classical beauty, but regular featured with the most piercingly blue eyes she’d ever seen and a shock of dark, curly hair cut à la Titus. He was fashionably attired in riding dress; a blue superfine jacket moulded to his chest and decorated with gilt buttons over a spotless white shirt with high pointed collar, an elegantly tied cravat à la Trône, tight buckskin pantaloons and immaculately polished hessian boots. The clothes fitted perfectly, but even while he sat at his ease, there was no disguising the strength in his powerful body and muscular thighs.

  What a pity, she considered, that he should show such a lack of consideration to the world. Plainly he is full of his own consequence, and for no particular reason. Then more truthfully. No reason! The face and body of an Adonis, riches beyond measure and a title. Does he have a mind? she wondered. Or is this all there is to him?

  She frowned when she remembered the stories of his conquests as related by Doctor Pym. He’s supposed to have rakish tendencies, she decided, finding it hard to believe it of him. He should appear raffish, she considered, perhaps a bit evil, but he’s not; indeed he appeared far more wholesome than anyone with such a reputation had any right to. Then again, his manner: vain, proud, overbearing and conceited even, not the sort of qualities she’d expect many women to be attracted to.

  At that moment he turned back towards her and smiled. It was so unexpected she felt as though a hammer had thudded into her chest, and she knew at once why women considered him attractive. No wonder Marianne had been thrilled to find herself betrothed to the man.

  ‘You’re very quiet today, Marianne. I hope I didn’t catch you unawares.’

  ‘I’m still decidedly groggy from the effects of my illness,’ Clarissa admitted, faintly aware that Leighton was turning the full force of his charm on her, and worried he might ferret out the truth of their deception. ‘I haven’t been out as yet. The party planned by the Rodneys for their daughters will be my first engagement since my return. Have you received an invitation to the event?’

  Of course he hadn’t, as she knew full well. Thank God the gathering would include a select few only. Going out into society for the first time, especially when she was playing a part was bad enough, but meeting Leighton there would be too much for her nerves to bear. She was to be disappointed.

  ‘I will apply to Rodney immediately,’ he assured her. ‘We often meet at my club, though we aren’t particular friends.’

  He’s going, she decided, and schooled her face to show pleasure. She had no doubt Rodney would provide the invitation; Leighton, as she’d been told more than once, was the darling of the ton.

  ‘I understand you’ve taken an interest in the flower garden.’ Now where the devil had he learnt that?

  ‘It was ever my passion when I lived with Aunt Constance,’ Clarissa was startled into the admission.

  ‘I should never have expected it of you.’ His eyebrows had risen in question and Clarissa knew she’d have to keep her wits about her.

  ‘Perhaps there’s more in me for you to discover,’ she forced herself to simper and giggle nervously, while she played the coquette. It was a role Marianne would have carried off to perfection, but Clarissa was well aware her play hadn’t abated his suspicions by one jot.

  ‘Then I will attempt to do just that,’ he declared, rising to his feet with all the grace of a hunting panther and holding out one elegant hand. ‘Will you show me around the garden now?’

  ‘Oh.’ Clarissa found herself on her feet almost before she realized it.

  Leighton tucked her arm under his own and bowed to Mr Markham. ‘You will permit me, sir?’

  ‘Of course.’ Mr Markham had been outflanked and could hardly withhold his permission at this point, not when they were to all intents and purposes betrothed. The garden wasn’t so large the couple could truly claim to be alone, but it would provide some opportunity for private speech.

  That Leighton had been in the garden before was obvious, and he swiftly led Clarissa down a gravel path that led to a hidden glade amongst the blooming spring flowers. There was a seat waiting there for him to offer her, big enough for the two of them to sit together. Had Marianne attempted a tête-à-tête with him there before she disappeared?

  She sat down carefully, seating herself towards one end of the bench to allow him the space to do likewise. Then she eyed him intently, concerned in case he should attempt to kiss her. Anxious too, Marianne might have allowed him that freedom in the past.

  ‘Tell me, child,’ he began, ‘were you really at your aunt’s?’

  ‘Yes. Where else would I have gone?’ It was, of course, the plain, unvarnished truth so far as her own movements were concerned, and Clarissa, who was prescient enough to see he believed her, felt a moment of shame in deceiving him. Damn Marianne, what was she playing at?

  ‘I can only apologize for bringing such suspicions to your notice. You must forgive me for giving any credence to rumours about your disappearance.’ Leighton showed a rare moment of concern for the girl. ‘Society feeds on the most ugly gossip.’

  So he had heard the same stories as Emily, Clarissa decided. ‘Her gardens are particularly lovely at this time of year,’ she went on, prattling in a vain attempt to cover up her momentary lapse from character.

  ‘You have changed.’

  For a moment Clarissa panicked, but there was a curious half smile on his lips, and she suddenly realized his words hadn’t constituted an accusation, more a prompt for her to follow.

  ‘I have?’ she quavered.

  ‘Perhaps not,’ he laughed harshly. ‘More likely it is I. We hardly had the chance to get to know each other in the constant round of entertainments.’ He went oddly quiet. ‘I should like to do that now, if you please?’ His eyebrows once again rose in a way that Clarissa found curiously endearing.

  ‘Perhaps we can speak further at Colonel Rodney’s,
’ she corroborated. ‘I dare swear you will obtain that invitation.’

  Clarissa knew she was being deliberately coquettish and attempted to excuse herself on account of the role she had to play, but that was a lie that brought her no relief. She knew the truth; knew that Leighton affected her, just as his own interest had been piqued, and berated herself for seeking what her sister already had. Where was the girl?

  ‘I thought I might plan an expedition too, a picnic by the river.’ He spoke lazily, as though visualizing the scene in his mind’s eye. ‘With your aunt’s permission, of course. My sister and her husband will accompany us, and you may invite your friend Emily as well. I dare say some others might also be counted on.’

  ‘How lovely.’ Well, and so it was, she decided, still quite unable to decide whether she was accepting for herself or the role she was playing. The answer to that question came easily enough when she wondered whether Marianne would have returned by the time that particular project got under way, and realized how disappointed she’d be to miss the trip.

  Leighton didn’t seem to notice her distraction, and they were soon deep in conversation, allowing him to draw some interesting confidences from her. On her own part, Clarissa realized she’d have to rethink some of her scorn for him; there was a light of intelligence in his eyes, no little knowledge and a quiet sense of humour. Not at all what she’d expected.

  Later, up in her room dressing for dinner, she sought to address her feelings. That his interest had been piqued, she already knew. By her, or by Marianne? He’d made it plain his affections hadn’t previously been drawn, but in all probability Marianne would have done the same once she had him to herself. Clarissa knew just how taking her sister could be when she chose to amuse.