"The magistrate's men," Lord Greville agreed, and Clarissa could hear the grin in his voice.
Lydia, however, wasn't grinning. There was definite horror as she gasped, "Are you saying that the magistrate is after you?"
"Nay! Sink me, I'm the Duke of Moonstruck's son!" Lord Greville sounded shocked that they would for a minute think such a thing, but Clarissa was busy contemplating the Duke of Moonstruck bit. Was that cant too? Or a nickname? For while Lord Greville was a duke, she was quite sure there was no such title as the Duke of Moonstruck.
"Yes, but you just said ..." Lady Crambray floundered.
"I said if I took to scamping they might come after me."
"Scamping?" Lydia echoed faintly, obviously feeling rather stupid.
"Took to the highway. Became a highwayman," he explained. "Which, of course, I would not do."
"No, of course not. Well. . . this cant is rather like a puzzle, is it not?" Her stepmother didn't sound altogether happy. Clarissa guessed she didn't like feeling slow, and began to worry that she'd not be allowed to go with Greville despite his efforts if her stepmother got too annoyed. But at that moment, he suddenly flipped out his pocket watch and sat up straight.
"Sink me, my tick says it's time to go," he an—
ounced, and Clarissa suspected he'd begun to fear he'd overplayed it himself.
"Go? But you only just arrived." Despite her words, Lydia sounded relieved.
"Aye. Well, I never intended to stay long. I merely meant to stop in and ask if Lady Clarissa might accompany me on a ride through the park. I wanted to show off my upper ben and calp in a more public place, but I would not do to ride the park alone. 'Tis not fashionable, you know."
"Oh, well. . ." There was a hesitation as Lydia glanced toward Lady Havard.
Clarissa could almost hear her stepmother's thoughts. No doubt she was considering the rumors that Lord Greville was a rake and weighing them against the man presently sitting in her salon.
"Oh, let them go," Lady Havard said chidingly. "Lord Greville will take care of her."
It appeared that Reginald's acting had convinced Lydia that there was nothing to fear, for even Lady Havard's chiding encouragement wouldn't have worked otherwise. But Clarissa could see her nodding slowly in permission.
"Very well," she said aloud. "But do not forget your mask, and do be careful and do not..."
Excited at the prospect of seeing Lord Mowbray again, Clarissa accepted and donned the mask Lydia shoved at her. Her stepmother's warnings and cautions flew over her head. They were all along the lines of not to touch anything, or to walk without Lord Greville's hand to guide her and so on; and Clarissa had heard these orders often enough that she knew them by heart. She simply nodded dutifully over and over as
her stepmother and Lady Havard saw them to the door; then she was hurrying to the open phaeton parked on the street before the house and being lifted onto the bench seat by Greville.
"Well, thank God that is over!"
Clarissa heard the disgusted mutter as Lord Greville took up the reins of his carriage and set out. The sudden deeper and much more masculine tone of his voice acted as a catalyst, releasing the amusement she'd been holding in. Clarissa burst out laughing, an open, gentle mirth that rolled naturally from her lips and made her cheeks flush with color. When she heard his muttered "damn," however, her laughter faded.
"I am sorry, my lord," Clarissa murmured at once, stifling her laughter. "You must think me terribly ungrateful, and I do not mean to be. Tis simply that I can imagine my stepmother's consternation as she tried to follow your conversation and could not. She does hate to appear ignorant."
"That is usually the way of stupid people," Reginald informed her.
Clarissa wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly and frowned in confusion. "My lord?"
Sighing, Greville seemed to relax, though it appeared to take some effort. "I notice you do not mind asking the meaning behind my words."
Clarissa shrugged slightly. "There seems little reason to pretend to any knowledge I lack."
"Aye. Well, my lady, that is a sign of intelligence," he assured her.
Clarissa blinked in surprise. "I do not understand your meaning."
"Intelligent people have no need to pretend to
ledge they do not have. Only the stupid feel they must feign knowledge about everything and anything. fear appearing as stupid as they are."
"And intelligent people do not fear appearing stupid?" Clarissa said curiously, wishing to know his feel—
p on the subject.
"Intelligent people know they are intelligent. They also know that one person cannot know all, hence a person is not stupid simply because he is ignorant of I me thing or another. They know that, to another intelligent person, they will not appear stupid in asking for an explanation of what they do not know, and so their ignorance on any particular issue does not become an embarrassment."
"Dizzying logic," Clarissa murmured with amusement.
"But you followed it," Greville countered. "Which tells me something."
"And what is that, my lord?"
"That I am an idiot," he answered promptly. "And my cousin is not."
Clarissa blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I said I am an idiot," Greville repeated cheerfully.
"My lord!" Clarissa protested at once, and felt his hand pat hers reassuringly.
"I am. At least when it comes to judging people. I misjudged you terribly."
"You did?" Clarissa marveled.
"Oh, yes. I fear I placed you in the same category as the other silly, vain, and simpleminded girls coming out this season. In fact, I warned my cousin against you."
"Did you?" Clarissa thought he nodded, and she heaved a small sigh. "Well, perhaps you were right to, my lord. After all, I come with a scandal."
She suspected Greville was smiling. He said, "Scandal or no scandal, you are perfect for my cousin. You shall be very happy together."
Clarissa felt herself blushing, and shook her head slightly with amusement at his claim. "You are presuming much, my lord. I have met your cousin only twice. We are but acquaintances."
"Perhaps, but you will not be for long," Greville announced with a certainty that made Clarissa shiver slightly. "My cousin is no fool, and you are perfect for him."
"Now you do sound like an idiot," Clarissa murmured, as frightened by his words as she was enchanted by them. 'You hardly know me. How can you make such a claim?"
"Because since meeting you he has begun to laugh again," Greville replied seriously. "That is something I have not heard him do for some time. Aye. You are good for him."
Clarissa was wondering over his words when he added, "Treat him gently. He has many scars, and not all of them are readily visible."
Clarissa was about to question those cryptic words when she became aware that the carriage had stopped moving. Glancing around distractedly, she opened her mouth to speak, then paused as a second carriage came to a halt beside them, this one closed. She watched curiously as the door opened and a dark figure leaped out.
"All went well, I see."
Clarissa recognized Lord Mowbray's voice at once, and resigned herself to waiting until later to question Greville further. She smiled at Adrian as he approached, then gasped with surprise as she was suddenly swung from the phaeton to stand on the ground.
"You owe me, cousin," Greville said solemnly.
"That I do," Mowbray agreed, and Clarissa could hear the man's smile. "We shall stay in this area so you find us easily when it comes time for you to return her."
"As you wish," Greville said; then she heard the snap of the reins and the phaeton moved off.
Once it had disappeared into the green blur of the park, Clarissa smiled in the general direction of Lord Mowbray. She thought he might be smiling back. At least, she believed she heard a smile in his voice as he said, "I thought you might enjoy walking for a bit, rather than getting into my carriage."
When Clarissa's eyes wid
ened in surprise, he added, "I did not think you would be interested in parading about, looking at the other gentry. Besides, even if you did, I fear I got rid of my phaeton some time back and had only this closed carriage to hand."
"Oh." Clarissa hesitated a moment, then said, 'You are right in assuming that I am not interested in looking at the other gentry, as seems to be the rage. Not that I could see them anyway," she added with a wry smile. "Still, it does seem less likely that we should be noticed and recognized in the carriage, and should my stepmother hear that--"
"But we wear our masks," Adrian interrupted quickly. "No one shall know who we are."
Clarissa's hand rose self-consciously to the mask her stepmother had insisted she don ere allowing her to leave with Lord Greville. It was all the rage to ride
about in a mask this season, and whatever was the rage, her stepmother insisted she do. 'You do not think my clumsiness will give us away?"
Adrian drew her hand over his arm, his voice filled with gentle amusement. "You shall not be clumsy, Lady Clarissa. I shall see to that."
She found herself relaxing at his assurance, and smiled cheerfully as he led her along what she presumed to be a path, but was to her a brown blur. They moved along in companionable silence, but after a time, Clarissa suddenly cocked her ear. "Is that water I hear, my lord?"
Adrian peered around.
"I do not think.. ." he began, then paused briefly before saying, "It has been a long while since I have been here, but I do seem to recall that these gardens have many cascades and fountains. You must be hearing one of those."
Clarissa felt his gaze shift to her, and sensed his smile as he said approvingly, 'You have excellent hearing, my lady. I cannot hear it myself, but--as I recall now--there is a fountain near here."
Moments later he spied the fountain and led her to it. They stood at its edge, suddenly oddly uncomfortable.
Clarissa pretended to peer at the green smear of water before her, but her mind was wholly on Adrian. She was agonizingly aware of his presence, and even more aware of the silence that seemed to hang between them like a pall. It was most discomfiting. They had seemed to get along so well at the ball where they met, yet now that they were alone, she could not think of a thing to say. Clarissa was racking her mind when he suddenly gave a small laugh.
"What is it?" she asked, raising her face curiously.
"Nothing," Adrian said, then added, "I was just thinking that I am an idiot. I have been standing here in a panic, searching my mind desperately for some item of conversation to speak on. But it appears that I am a man who has lost all capacity for speech."
Before she could protest, Adrian added, "Around Lady Clarissa, I am as nervous as a lad."
"I am nervous also," Clarissa admitted quietly. "And I do not understand how it should be so. We seemed to have no trouble the first two times we met."
"Nay, we did not," Adrian agreed, then turned her away from the water and said, "Fortunately, I am not a complete idiot, and I did bring something to distract us." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a dark square, then took her hand and filled it.
"A book?" Clarissa asked with surprise. ,
'Yes."
Aware that he was leading her away from the water, she asked, "Where are we going?"
"There is a small bower just a short distance away that offers some shade. I thought we might partake of it while I read to you."
'You are going to read to me?" Clarissa asked with interest.
"I recalled your saying that--above all things--what you most missed without your spectacles was being able to read. And so I thought to read to you," Adrian explained. "It will not be the same, I know, as being able to read for yourself, but hopefully it will ease your distress somewhat."
"Oh, I am sure it will," Clarissa said quickly, touched that he was so thoughtful, and grateful that he had provided a way for them to avoid conversation until they were both less nervous.
"What book did you bring with you?" she asked curiously as Adrian urged her to settle on a bench in a cool shady spot.
"Ah, well, I brought 'The Rape of the Lock' by--"
"Alexander Pope."
"Aye," he agreed, obviously surprised that she knew the text. "Do you like him?"
Clarissa smiled and nodded, and Adrian audibly sighed. "Well then, I shall begin."
Chapter Six
"Devil take you, cousin! Where have you got to?"
Clarissa blinked in surprise and glanced around at the irritated comment. She recognized Greville's voice even as Adrian's deep, sonorous reading stumbled to a halt; then Reginald's chartreuse figure stumbled into view.
"There you are! Dear Lord, I have been looking for you these past fifteen minutes. I shall be late returning Clarissa. We were to be gone only an hour."
"Has it been an hour already?" Clarissa asked with disappointment. She'd been quietly enjoying listening to Adrian read.
"She was allowed out for only an hour?" Adrian asked with a grimace. He closed the book. "Why such a paltry length of time?"
"How long did you think we'd be expected to be gone?" Reginald asked dryly, as Adrian stood and took
Clarissa's hand to help her rise. "We were only going out for a ride."
'Yes, of course," Adrian said with a sigh.
"What's that there?" Reginald asked. "Is that Pope?"
"Aye. Clarissa has missed reading since being deprived of her spectacles, so I thought to read to her," Adrian admitted. He looked embarrassed.
Greville grunted at the thoughtful gesture, but made no comment that might upset either of them. Instead, he turned back the way he'd come. "Let's be off. My carriage awaits, and I can hardly wait to get home and out of this ridiculous coat."
Adrian drew Clarissa's hand through his arm to follow.
"Thank you," she murmured as they followed Greville. 'You have a lovely voice, and it was the perfect choice of book. I quite enjoyed your reading."
Adrian shrugged the compliment away. "Aye, well, I had meant to read for only a bit, then to end in conversation. I thought we would have more time."
He fell silent as he herded her around some obstacle--a fallen, ancient tree trunk, Clarissa thought--then he continued, "Which party shall you be attending tonight?"
"The Devereaux."
"I shall be sure to see you there then."
"Oh, yes ... well. .." Irritation filled her. 'You might as well give up that idea. Lydia has already stated that, should you appear at another party we attend, she shan't leave me alone for a moment. I think she suspects I was with you in the gardens at Prudhomme's. I fear I am a very poor liar. I am sorry."
"Do not be sorry, and do not apologize. I shall arrange something."
Before Clarissa could ask what he meant, he squeezed her hand gently, then lifted her to sit in the phaeton.
"Until tonight," he whispered.
"Lady Crambray. How delighted we are that you could come!"
Clarissa blinked away the boredom that had glazed her eyes and glanced to the pale blue and peach-colored blurs that had appeared beside Lydia. It would be unkind to say she was stunned that someone besides Lady Havard and Lady Achard would claim pleasure in seeing her stepmother, but as those two were usually the only people who spoke to Lydia, Clarissa was rather stunned to hear their hostess and another woman greet her stepmother so.
Lydia seemed rather stunned herself, Clarissa noted, for her stepmother stumbled over her tongue in her effort to reply. "L-Lady D-Devereaux and L-Lady Mowbray. Good evening. How nice to see you. We were most happy to attend, most happy indeed. Were we not, Clarissa?"
Clarissa murmured an agreement, but her attention was on the blue blur that was surely Lady Mowbray. She knew their hostess was wearing pale peach tonight, so that meant the lady in blue was Adrian's mother.
"And this must be the lovely Clarissa." Lady Mowbray moved closer, and Clarissa suspected she was smiling widely. "I've heard a great deal about you, my dear--from both my son and my nephew Regi
nald."
"Reginald Greville is your nephew?" Lydia asked with interest, nicely sidestepping any comment on Adrian. Her stepmother might not want Clarissa near
Mowbray, but she wasn't stupid enough to openly snub him or his family. The Montforts had a great deal of influence in society--at least Isabel Montfort, Lady Mowbray, did. Hence Lydia had been reduced to trying to avoid Adrian rather than flat-out telling him to stay away.
"Yes, he is." Lady Mowbray didn't miss the lack of comment on her son. At least, Clarissa suspected that was the reason behind the steel in her voice.
"Well, he seems a charming young man," Lydia went on happily, apparently ignorant of her misstep. "He took Clarissa out for a ride in the park the other day."
"So I heard," Lady Mowbray said, and now there was amusement in her voice. Clarissa got the distinct impression that Lady Mowbray knew that Reginald had only taken her to her son. Still, the lady's next words startled her. "In fact, Reginald rhapsodized on so about her, my niece--his sister--was hoping to meet her."
"Oh, well, that would be lovely," Lydia gushed. "Clarissa needs to make friends here in London. It would be good for her."
Clarissa bit her lip, quite sure her stepmother was picturing the boost to their social circle should they be befriended by Reginald's sister. Mary Greville was considered a diamond of the first water. Knowing her could elevate anyone.
"Good, good," Lady Mowbray said. "Then you will not mind if I steal her away for a bit while you help Lady Devereaux."
"Steal her away?" Lydia asked with alarm. Clarissa grimaced, knowing her stepmother was imagining her stumbling, tripping, or bumping into something and blowing this opportunity.
'Yes. Mary turned her ankle today and is forced to
rest and keep her foot elevated, so, you see, she cannot come to Clarissa--I shall have to take Clarissa to Mary. It will be fine," Lady Mowbray announced gaily, urging Clarissa to her feet. "The girls will have a lovely time while you are helping Lady Devereaux."
Apparently, Lydia hadn't caught that comment the first time. Now she did, and Clarissa could hear the uncertainty in her voice as she asked, "Help Lady Devereaux?"
'Yes," Lady Devereaux cooed. "I was told you have the most incredible taste in ..."
Clarissa didn't hear the rest. Lady Mowbray was urging her insistently away from the pair, and hurrying her toward the doors leading into the hall. She went silently, because she didn't have a clue what to say. Clarissa didn't know Lady Mowbray, and wasn't all that certain what was happening. Getting away from Lydia's clutches was a difficult thing at the best of times. At least, it had been since the evening her stepmother had caught her in the gardens after returning from her walk with Adrian. Yet, this had been handled so skillfully.... It had to have been planned, she thought, and wondered why exactly it had been orchestrated, and where Lady Mowbray was really leading her.