A Fraudulent Betrothal Read online

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t really know …’ Her voice fell away while she nerved herself to ask the question. ‘Only – was she very beautiful?’ And cursed herself for evading what she really wanted to know.

  ‘She was, indeed still is,’ he replied, ‘but, as I told you, that particular lady is in the long dead past.’

  ‘You loved her?’

  ‘I thought so once, but only for a while.’

  ‘Do you have many amours?’

  ‘Enough,’ he replied, strangely disconcerted by Clarissa’s candour. ‘Let us talk instead about the future.’

  ‘The future?’

  ‘You, chit, belong to the future.’ He grasped her shoulders, turning her to face him.

  ‘Oh.’ Her lips parted slightly when his smouldering glance scorched through her, and the unexpected sensations searing through her body surprised a gasp from her lips.

  ‘You have bewitched me, Marianne.’ His hands tightened their hold and Clarissa had the odd feeling he was going to sweep her off her feet and into his arms. Her lips opened of their own accord to accept his sweet kisses, and then the import of what he’d said hit her. Marianne, this was all for Marianne.

  The honeyed words he was whispering in her ears, the intimacies he was suggesting. These should all have been shared with her sister. Not her. Not Clarissa. And she was the guilty one. She wanted those sweet words for herself. God alone knew, she wanted him to kiss her. Wanted him to kiss Clarissa. Wanted it with all her heart, and all her being.

  ‘No,’ she cried distractedly, and tore herself out of his arms.

  ‘My apologies.’ Leighton clenched his hands into tight fists, mastering himself as well as he could. God, but the chit had all but scattered his wits. ‘I frightened you,’ he continued, his natural concern coming to the fore. ‘I should have taken my fences more easily.’

  ‘No.’ Clarissa laid a comforting hand on his arm. ‘It was not you who lost their head, but me.’

  ‘Then you do not find me unacceptable?’

  ‘Of course not, Richard.’ The girl allowed herself the comfort of using his name. Pray God Marianne returned before she had to again.

  ‘Thank God.’ He uttered the words out loud, totally unabashed by Clarissa’s wide-eyed stare.

  ‘Tell me how you obtained an invitation?’ She brought the subject back to the prosaic while they began to stroll back towards the ballroom. ‘I heard the gathering was very select.’

  ‘Am I not select?’

  ‘You are insufferable, sir.’ Clarissa tapped his hand with her own, ‘and have a care, for we are no longer alone.’ She stared up at him with a wistful look that struck him to the core.

  ‘Colonel Rodney is always glad to entertain an old campaigner,’ he told her. ‘I never had the honour of serving in his regiment, but I saw him often when I was attached to Wellington’s staff.’

  ‘You were a soldier?’

  ‘Why so surprised, chit? Many young men were.’

  ‘You were the heir. The viscount.’

  ‘Not until my brother died of the influenza.’ A sad, far away look entered his eyes, and he laughed harshly. ‘I was fighting in the Peninsula, facing death on a daily basis and yet it was he who suffered and died.’ He recovered his poise and admitted his feelings. ‘D’Arcy and I were very close; no more than ten months apart. Funnily enough, it was always I who was the delicate one. He never endured a day’s sickness in his life, until the epidemic hit our estates.’ He shook off his mournful expression. ‘My father died soon after and I succeeded. I had to sell out then.’

  ‘Sophie.’

  ‘Yes, miss?’ The maid’s new found air of devotion continued into the early hours of the morning when she helped Clarissa out of her clothes.

  ‘My check shawl. You know the one, with a slight tear in one corner. Have you seen it lately?’ Clarissa hadn’t seen the article since she’d arrived at the Markhams’ house, and Marianne had always valued it for its warmth despite its forlorn appearance.

  ‘You gave it to me, miss.’ Sophie turned a surprised look on her mistress. ‘For my sister, the last time I took a half day.’

  Clarissa immediately begged pardon, but she’d detected the slightest of pauses before the girl answered. Sophie was a good little actress, but Clarissa decided she knew more than she was letting on about Marianne’s disappearance. What’s more, the question, though designed to catch out the maid, must also have proved to Sophie she was dealing with a changeling in her mistress. Did she know Marianne had a twin?

  ‘I’ve another due, miss.’

  ‘Another?’ Clarissa turned questioning eyes on her maid.

  ‘Half day, miss. Later on in the week, if that’s all right with you.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course. Will you visit your family again?’

  ‘Sure to, miss.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A Pleasure Trip

  The sailing barge was taken up at Westminster, to which part of town the ladies in the party had been conveyed by an open carriage. Amongst the women, and in addition to Clarissa, Leighton had invited her friend Emily, and at Clarissa’s special request, young Fanny Rodney. Lady Burnett, Leighton’s sister, with whom Clarissa was not yet acquainted, made up the party in the barouche, jokingly referring to herself as being there to maintain the proprieties. When it became apparent that Marianne was already on good terms with the lady, Clarissa was inclined to view her inclusion as unfortunate, but she soon found Caroline, as she begged them all to call her, a particularly agreeable young lady with whom she was quickly seen to be fast friends.

  Leighton’s particular companion, Lord Chatsbury, rode with him alongside the carriage, while a few yards behind, Sir Roger Burnett, his brother-in-law and Caroline’s husband, was deep in conversation with young Roderick Thornton, invited to make up the numbers as a sop to being so ruthlessly cut out of Clarissa’s dance card at the Rodneys’. Since he’d known Fanny since she was in short coats and the pair of them dealt together well, Clarissa decided Leighton had made an extremely good choice.

  The picnic had been bespoke along with the sailing barge, so there was no more to do than board the boat themselves before it cast off and began to tack upriver. They were aiming for Richmond, but at this state of the tide it was a slow journey, and the party soon settled down with some refreshments served by a good-natured young woman who was evidently a regular part of the crew.

  Clarissa was particularly pleased to find that Caroline took her duties seriously and forbade Fanny the wine that was offered, though with such good-natured banter the girl couldn’t take her interference as anything but the best advice. Clarissa, too, was more than happy to drink a refreshing draught of lemonade, freshly cooled over the side of the vessel.

  At first she engaged herself in desultory conversation with Caroline, Emily and Fanny, but, all too soon, Leighton himself came to stand by her side. The other women naturally drew back and left the pair to themselves, where he contented himself in tarrying with her.

  ‘Richard,’ Chatsbury called out to his friend, from his position in the bows where he was standing with the other men. ‘Are you to be forever tied to your wife’s apron strings?’

  Leighton replied by holding up his wine glass in an ironic salute and bowing towards them.

  ‘Come, man, you’re not even married as yet,’ Chatsbury continued ribbing his friend.

  The three men laughed out loud at this sally, but Leighton wasn’t in the least discomforted by their amusement.

  ‘Marianne’s company,’ he told them good-naturedly, ‘is infinitely to be preferred to your own coarse manners.’

  ‘You needn’t stay just to keep me company,’ Clarissa told him quietly, but he only grinned at her, looking so boyish that she felt the strangest urge to run her fingers through his hair.

  ‘I can assure you, my dear, it’s not duty that makes me stay at your side, but rather that I want to. Your conversation and wit is proving more refreshing than I ever though
t possible.’ Then, more drily, ‘Perhaps I should have got to know you better earlier in our acquaintanceship.’

  ‘Perhaps, my lord.’

  ‘Richard.’ His hand closed over hers on the rail when he corrected her, and she felt the warmth run up her arm.

  ‘Richard,’ she repeated, her lips trembling on the name, ‘but you will put me to the blush if you continue to hold my hand so noticeably.’

  ‘Then you must blush, my dear.’

  Leighton was as good as his word in that he stayed at her side throughout the slow progress upriver, lazily making conversation, though, to her infinite relief, he released her hand at length.

  The picnic was taken on the bank a short distance below Richmond itself. A wide expanse of greensward provided enough space to set out the repast and several well trodden paths led into the lightly wooded common grounds about its perimeter.

  ‘I never saw you in such grig,’ Emily twitted her, while they ate together on an old shawl the serving woman laid out for them, ‘and you’re getting on wonderfully well with Leighton.’

  Clarissa had been aware of just how often she’d been brought to the point of laughter by her skilful admirer, but she had hoped it wouldn’t be as obvious to her companions. She blushed and answered with unexpected brevity. ‘Yes, I am, aren’t I?’

  ‘You were such a goose to wonder about him, Marianne, and moon over another after he’d offered.’

  ‘Another? And who would that be?’ Clarissa instinctively realized that here was a clue to Marianne’s disappearance if only she could extract any meaning from it.

  ‘La!’ Emily playfully slapped Clarissa’s wrist with her fan. ‘You’re so inconstant.’ Then she fixed her eyes on Leighton with an assessing, even predatory, stare. ‘I should not play fast and loose with such a man if I were in your position.’

  ‘Neither do I mean to.’ Clarissa blushed to the roots of her hair when she made the statement. Of course she meant to; however often she should meet the man, it was her sister who would have him, and suddenly she realized just what that meant to her. ‘I don’t!’ she declared so plainly, that Leighton’s sister, seated a short distance hence, turned towards her in surprise.

  ‘Come sit with me,’ she invited. Sir Roger, who’d been relaxing at his ease by her side, instantly leapt to his feet and offered his place.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to get better acquainted with your friend,’ he told her politely, ‘if young Chatsbury doesn’t cut me out first.’

  Clarissa smiled and thanked him. ‘No one could be so distinguished as to cut you out, sir,’ she assured him, while she swapped places to talk to Caroline.

  ‘I’m intrigued,’ that lady began enigmatically. ‘I have to admit that when I first heard of the match between you, I was worried Richard might have mistaken himself. He succeeded unexpectedly when our brother died childless and realized he must marry for the sake of the succession; indeed the family were adamant on the matter. He would have wanted a love match for himself, I’m sure, but I was persuaded his offer was made only because your beauty and wit were the toast of the town. As the last of the Leighton line, I was convinced he thought he owed it to his position to choose only such a nonpareil as his partner. I see now I was wrong, and that it is truly a love match.’

  Clarissa found herself put to the blush again. The knowledge she was deceiving not only the man she loved, but also so many other good people, worried her desperately. The man she loved! Oh my God, she blushed to the roots of her hair when she realized it was so; that she’d known it all along, ever since the first moment they’d met. She was in love with the one man in the world she couldn’t have. Richard belonged to her sister, though by some strange additional sense that fluttered deep in her breast, she also realized that it was her, Clarissa, that Leighton was wooing. For once, her more vivacious sister, Marianne, was having to take second place.

  Perhaps she could reveal the truth? Her heart hung heavy when she considered the option. She could never find it in her heart to cut out her own dear sister, and neither would it answer if she could. If the truth were known then such a scandal would arise as would shame her and Marianne forever. Leighton, and all his family too, would hate such notoriety, and she dreaded seeing the dawning look of horror on his face when he realized how they’d fooled him and made him the butt of every joker in society.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Caroline laid a calming hand on Clarissa’s arm, concerned by the emotions she saw reflected in the girl’s face. ‘I have over-set you with my well-meaning tittle tattle.’

  ‘No.’ Clarissa cleared her conscience with an effort. ‘You are right. It is a love match; for me, at least.’ She was playing a part, but that much was true, she reflected ruefully.

  ‘I don’t think you have any need to doubt Richard’s feelings,’ Caroline replied. ‘I’ve never seen him so desperately in love.’

  ‘You’re too kind, ma’am.’ Clarissa resorted to a formality she scarcely felt to relieve her feelings.

  ‘My friends call me Caro,’ Leighton’s sister replied, ‘and I’m sure we’re going to be the greatest of friends.’

  ‘I do hope so,’ – there was the smallest of pauses – ‘Caro.’ Clarissa was once again in part. Marianne’s standing in society was at stake and she couldn’t play traitor to her sister however much her own peace of mind might be put at risk.

  ‘Are you fully recovered from your illness?’ Caroline turned the conversation to less dangerous subjects, despite her own natural inquisitiveness. She’d realized instinctively that Clarissa was hiding something, a secret that might affect her brother’s future happiness, but she couldn’t see what it could possibly be. She’d swear on her life the girl was in love with him, and he with her. Then what could be the trouble?

  Following the repast, the gentlemen teamed up with the ladies while they strolled about the common, and Clarissa soon found herself paired off with Leighton and deep in conversation. Somehow they’d wandered far enough along the river-bank to find themselves alone. At first the girl had wondered at the wisdom of such a move, but soon resolved she’d play her part. She might not have Leighton’s companionship for long, and it was up to her to take what comfort from it she could while she was still able.

  ‘Tell me about your life,’ she begged, anxious to store up such memories as she could.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ he laughed.

  ‘I already know you soldiered in the Peninsula,’ she declared. ‘You were on Wellington’s staff. Did you know the Duke himself?’

  ‘I had that honour, though I dare say he barely noticed me,’ Leighton returned modestly. ‘I was only a young officer largely used to carry his dispatches to the regiments under his command.’

  ‘That sounds dangerous.’ Clarissa couldn’t stop herself from clutching apprehensively at his arm.

  ‘Not especially. In my position I was rarely to be found in the forefront of the action.’

  ‘Colonel Rodney has a high opinion of you,’ she charged.

  ‘Overrated, I’m sad to say.’ He stared down at Clarissa’s flushed face, feeling the rising passion in his own breast, and made the confession. ‘I fought with him once. Having delivered my dispatches I found myself trapped and the regimental headquarters surrounded. It was a desperate battle for a while, until reinforcements came upon us.’

  ‘Were you happy to sell out?’ Clarissa decided she didn’t want to hear about the danger he’d been in any more.

  ‘Not at the time,’ he temporized. ‘I loved life as an officer in the Peninsula. We weren’t under fire all the time and I made some real friendships. Succession to the title changed all that: I had to sell out, the family demanded it, indeed my position demanded it. Yet I found society strangely dull and restricted after the freedom of life in the army. In addition I missed the final assault on the French positions, on France itself.’

  ‘You were bored?’

  ‘I suppose that was the case,’ he admitted. ‘I had plenty to amuse me, but someh
ow the delights of society never proved enough. I was the head of the family, the noble Viscount Leighton, but all my heartfelt ambitions seemed to have been taken away from me. I began to game ever more deeply, but win or lose, it was all the same to me.’ He looked down at her, almost sheepishly. ‘Even Lady Darcross, experienced as she was, couldn’t totally banish the ennui.’ He paused before admitting a confession that thrilled her. ‘I thought I could never be truly happy again, until I got to know you.’

  ‘Yet you managed to tear yourself away for several weeks while you toured your estates,’ Clarissa accused him. Then backed off, startled by the light of passion in his eyes.

  ‘It wasn’t until I returned I realized how sorely I missed you, how much my heart had changed,’ he murmured and snaking out one long, muscular arm, caught her around the waist.

  Clarissa finally realized just how charged the air between them had become and made an abortive, and not altogether convincing, attempt to break free. He was going to kiss her, she was perfectly sure of it this time. Would Marianne have allowed such a liberty? She couldn’t think so, even though the girl hadn’t been above such missish tricks in their youth.

  She realized he was lowering his head, his eyes open, searching for the passion in her own. She couldn’t stop him, didn’t wish to stop him; was no longer acting a part for the sake of her sister, but giving in to her own foolish feelings. The heady realization of love mixed freely with the swirling desire in her brain, and turned it to mush.

  The kiss was meant to have been no more than a polite salute, but it drove Clarissa’s feelings into the open. She responded with a fervency that she, let alone he, could hardly have expected of herself, twining her arms around his broad shoulders, sliding her fingers through the thicker hair at his nape and parting her lips to taste the renewed passion of his own.