The Viscount’s Darling Adventure by Maggie Dallen
5
He should leave Clarissa be.
That was what Leo told himself when he tore his gaze away from the garden doors as his aunt brought an irate, but ultimately unharmed, Charlotte back to the drawing room to join the rest of the party.
“Are you all right?” he asked his cousin.
“I’ll survive,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “I should have expected as much, I suppose.” She clucked her tongue. “They really can’t take those girls anywhere, can they?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw at the memory of Clarissa’s humiliating departure from the dining room. Her sister Mariah had been just behind her, so at least he knew she had company out there in the garden.
Not that he cared about her comfort.
He didn’t.
Why should he when she’d so clearly been toying with his affections? His jaw clenched tight as anger churned in his gut. Clarissa had been alarmed during their conversation. Upset, even. But when she’d lied about her love of travel—that was when it had become all too clear.
She’d known exactly who he was tonight...and she’d been horrified that he’d discovered the truth of her identity as well.
He stared at the open doors as he and his family were joined by Henry and a flock of concerned ladies, all of whom were tutting and tsking over Charlotte’s barely-there wound and the soiled gown that still bore a streak of soup from Clarissa’s errant spoon.
How long had Clarissa known the truth? That was the question that plagued him. Had she known the night of the masquerade that he was an Ainsworth?
She must have. Why else would she have tried to lie tonight? Why else would she be so upset over having been caught?
The truth landed like a boulder on his chest.
Lady Clarissa had been toying with him from the start. Letting him think that they might truly meet again. He’d actually believed her that night when she’d opted not to tell him her name because she wished to keep up the mystery.
Really, she’d just known that by revealing her name, the flirtation would have ended. And so she’d let him think that it was real. That they might have a future. She’d let him carry on and dance with her and—
“She ought to come back in here and apologize,” his aunt was whispering loudly to anyone who would listen. “But what can you expect from a country upstart?”
The harsh words rankled, though he knew not why. He shouldn’t feel defensive of the girl, not when he was nearly certain that she’d intentionally deceived him. But still, he turned an impassive gaze on his aunt. “Lady Clarissa has already apologized, Aunt. And we were all there. We all saw that it was an accident.”
His aunt stiffened, anger flashing in her eyes. But he saw that Charlotte, at least, understood what he was doing. He felt a surge of pride as she aimed a beatific smile at the ladies. “My cousin is right, of course. It was merely an accident, and I…” She touched her forehead gently and with more than a hint of martyrdom. “I shall be fine by the morrow.”
Leo widened his eyes at her theatrics, but his old chum Henry seemed to have fallen for her act hook, line, and sinker. “How very gracious of you, Miss Charlotte. You truly do have a kind heart.”
Charlotte blinked in surprise, and then much to Leo’s surprise—she blushed. A true, honest to goodness blush stole into his cousin’s cheeks as she dipped her head shyly.
This was a good deal different from what she typically did in the face of a compliment. Which was to dip her head coyly. There was a difference, and that difference was clear as day to Leo.
His aunt, however, was far from gracious. “Perhaps it was an accident, but I saw the way she spoke to you, Leo. That girl is unforgivably brash. And so forward.”
He arched his brows. “Was she? I hadn’t noticed.”
His aunt sniffed, ready to launch into another attack on Clarissa, but that would only bring more attention to the matter. “I did not find her to be offensive in any way,” he lied.
His gaze once more flicked toward the garden doors. The anger that had been brewing ever since he’d realized her identity was making his heart pound painfully. That anger surged through his veins as he remembered her smiles and laughter earlier in the evening—all at his expense, no doubt.
“Actually,” he said to the group gathered near, “I very much enjoyed my conversation with the young lady.”
His family and Henry stared at him in uncertain horror. It was one thing to take the high road with the Rutlands. It was quite another to enjoy their company.
“In fact,” he continued, as temptation overtook him, “I should like to pay my respects to her and her family before we leave.”
And with that he headed toward the garden, the hammering in his chest amplified by a pounding in his skull.
Anger pulsed through his veins. How dare she? The pounding insisted. Who did she think she was to toy with him in such a way? He kept his expression bland as he wove his way through the crowd toward the garden. The doors were open, her sister was in attendance. It was hardly improper to bid her farewell.
He told himself that as he walked, but the moment he stepped outside and spotted her, he was forced to admit that there was nothing proper about this confrontation.
Even less appropriate was the way he felt when he looked upon her.
Clarissa’s hair shone a pale white in the moon’s glow, and her trim figure was fetching in the pale blue gown. She was the very picture of innocence and beauty as she stood beside her sister. Even silent, her gaze distant, she emanated life. Passion. She wasn’t a goddess of the moon. She was Artemis, goddess of the hunt.
And he desperately wanted to kiss her.
The realization left him stricken, his mouth dry and his insides twisted. She was temptation itself. More beautiful behind that mask than he’d ever let himself imagine. And when she turned to face him, her eyes filled with emotion…
He wanted to go to her. He ached to tug her into his arms and comfort her. To tell her all would be well now that he’d found her again.
His hands clenched at his sides. Don’t be a fool.
She straightened with a start when she caught sight of him there in the doorway, staring and not bothering to disguise his anger.
“Lord Ware.” It was her sister Mariah who spoke, her eyes wide with surprise as she looked from him to Clarissa. “We did not expect to see you out here.”
Clarissa took a step toward him and stopped. The silence that fell between them was fraught with tension and filled with unspoken questions.
“I came to make sure you were all right,” he said. Not a total lie. Despite his anger, he couldn’t stop worrying about her either. Which was annoying. And confusing. He hated this irrational mix of emotions and it was well time he rid himself of them. “And I was concerned when you did not come back inside to finish our conversation.”
Clarissa’s eyes widened and she cast a quick, meaningful look at her sister. “I, er...I thought we’d said all there was to say.”
Disappointment choked him, and he could not say why. “Yes. Quite right. It’s just…” He drew in a deep breath, that anger making his muscles tense. “When did you know?”
Her eyes widened and her lips parted.
Mariah’s brows knit together in confusion. “When did we know what?”
Oh drat. He cleared his throat, but he didn’t have to explain. Clarissa understood and she took another step toward him. “I didn’t know. Not until minutes ago.”
He gave a grunt of disbelief. “You lied.”
“I—I, yes. But not because…” She glanced again at Mariah and he saw a flicker of her frustration.
“You should have told me,” he said.
Mariah was watching them with unabashed curiosity, her gaze flicking back and forth.
Clarissa, however… Her confusion and her wide-eyed shock were falling away, and he caught a flash of fire in her eyes. “How could I have told you when I didn’t know?”
“How could you not know?” he shot back. “Everyone knows who I am.”
Her nostrils flared and even in the moonlight he saw her cheeks flush with anger. “I could say the same to you. Everyone knows who I am.” She arched her brows in challenge. “But you did not know?”
Her words slammed into him. She had a point there. “No,” he said. “I did not know.”
Silence fell again and then she crossed her arms, her chin jutting out in defiance. “I did not know until tonight.” She glanced inside. “Until just now.”
Mariah shook her head. “Know what? Clarissa, what are you two speaking of?”
He stared at Clarissa as she turned to her sister with a wan smile that couldn’t possibly be fooling anyone. “Nothing of importance. We had a little misunderstanding, that’s all.”
A little misunderstanding? He continued to stare at her pretty profile as one thing became vividly clear.
Lady Clarissa was a terrible liar.
She was clearly lying to her sister now, just as it had been absurdly obvious when she’d attempted to lie to him during dinner. Her voice had been a high-pitched squeak when she’d lied. Only a fool would have believed her.
Which meant…
Which meant that she wasn’t lying now. When she turned back to face him, he could see it. She’d been just as shocked as he. And when she’d lied before it had not been because she’d been caught in some cruel prank but because…
Because...
His heart clenched and then took a dive toward the ground as the bitter realization struck. She’d lied because she’d been just as horrified as he’d been to discover that the person she’d been seeking was him.
An Ainsworth.
He cleared his throat. “Lady Clarissa, I must apologize, I—” He cast a quick glance at her sister as he weighed his words. “I apologize for my part in the...misunderstanding.”
Some of the anger in her expression faded, and if he wasn’t mistaken, what was left was sadness. The same sort of bitter disappointment that was currently threatening to swallow him whole.
“I apologize for my part in the misunderstanding as well,” she said softly.
“Well then,” he said with a forced casualness he didn’t feel. “Where does that leave us?”
Her smile was small and heartachingly sad. “As you said before. I am me, and you are...you.”
She was a Rutland, and he was an Ainsworth. That fact still remained the same, and in the end, it was the only one that mattered.
He gave a huff of humorless laughter. “Yes, I suppose that is true.”
She was his enemy’s sister. He was her family’s worst nightmare.
There really was nothing more to say.
And yet it was with difficulty that he took a step backward toward the drawing room where his family waited. His heart felt an actual stab of pain when her lips trembled as she forced one last smile. “I suppose this is farewell then,” she said.
“I suppose so. Though I’m certain I shall be seeing more of you and your family throughout the season.” He took another step back as he murmured a goodnight to her sister. When he turned back to Clarissa, he saw that she still wore that small smile, but the sadness in her eyes cut him to the quick just before he turned away.
He hated that sadness. He’d do anything to rid her of that look, to erase that emotion.
He turned back for one last glimpse, only to see her biting her lip, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Blast. That would not do.
He paused with one hand on the doorframe. “Oh, and Lady Clarissa?”
Her brows arched expectantly.
“One last thing,” he said. “From here on out, if you could refrain from hurling utensils at my relatives, it would be very much appreciated.”
He heard Mariah splutter in outrage as Clarissa’s eyes widened in shock. But when Clarissa’s gaze met his, he saw the moment she understood that he was teasing. Her lips parted in surprise and her shock turned to amusement. “I shall try,” she said. “But I make no promises.”
He headed inside, his head tucked down to hide his grin as her laughter—that gorgeous, dazzling laughter—followed in his wake.
