Robert, Marquis of Alchester, was partaking of a late luncheon in the sunny breakfast parlour when his servant returned. Lowering the Morning Post, to listen carefully to the boy as he recounted his morning’s observations, he smiled with satisfaction. The coin he handed over was larger than the lad had anticipated, and the boy bowed low, thanking his master with assurances of his continued service, and a rather gappy, cocky smile. Alchester dismissed him with an imperious wave, and returned to the table.
The address the boy had given him was the same as the one he had received from his lawyer. Lady Maria Warrington’s gambling debts had been acquired almost by accident, payment from another of Mrs Barrington’s innocent victims in the gambling hell to which she had introduced Lady Maria. Alchester had not made the connection with Kit Rasenby until last night, when Kit, in his cups, had let slip Clarissa’s name after a deal too much of White’s brandy.
Robert Alchester had waited a long time for revenge. For years, he had watched as Kit’s reputation as a rake increased as surely as the richness of his lands, as abundantly as his wealth. Robert looked on in bitter resentment as Kit flourished, as his callous treatment of women was rewarded with devotion, as his reckless gaming was rewarded with winnings beyond anything Robert could dream of. The Sea Wolf had seemed to offer the first chink in Rasenby’s armour, but he had somehow escaped from the excise men. As Kit’s lucky star continued in the ascent, so Robert Alchester’s plummeted. He was known to be in debt, reduced to extorting money from acquired gambling debts such as Lady Maria’s in order to keep his many voracious creditors at bay. And as the vultures circled closer, so the ladies moved further away.
Now surely the tide was turning his way. The innocent Miss Clarissa Warrington would prove to be Rasenby’s Achilles’ heel and Robert Alchester’s salvation. Rasenby would be crushed once and for all. The Marquis of Alchester cut himself another slice of bloody beef. He was suddenly ravenous.
Chapter Twelve
Clarissa returned home for the second day in a row in desperate need of the solace of her bedchamber. She wearily opened the door, feeling that everything which could possibly go wrong with her life already had. For the second time in two days she was summoned urgently into the parlour before she even had time to remove her hat. This time, the voice belonged not to Lady Maria, but to Aunt Constance. Her heart sank. This was an encounter she had been dreading and could well do without.
‘Child, what on earth have you been up to?’ Aunt Constance got to her feet as Clarissa entered the room. Dressed neatly as ever, in a plain but elegant dress of brown silk with matching ribbons in her cap, she was clearly upset. A frown darkened her pale countenance as she anxiously assessed her niece. ‘Come and let me look at you properly. I have asked your mother to afford us some privacy. Your mama has already given me some muddled story about your escapades, but I confess I would much rather have it direct from you. Why don’t you sit down and tell your aunt exactly what’s been happening, there’s a good girl.’
The gentle voice and the obvious note of concern in her voice, when she was entitled to anger, were quite oversetting. Clarissa cast herself into her aunt’s arms and gave way to another unaccustomed fit of tears.
Lady Constance held her close, patting her back and whispering soothing platitudes while patiently letting her have her cry. When Clarissa finally looked up, gulping down the last of her sobs, Lady Constance handed her a fine linen handkerchief, but continued in her silence, concern for her normally placid niece having the upper hand over curiosity.
Eventually Clarissa sat up properly, and with a sigh turned to her aunt, her face resolute. ‘I don’t know exactly what Mama will have told you, for it was Amelia who broke my confidence and told a version of the tale to her. I have yet not apprised Mama of the true facts myself. I’m afraid I put you in a difficult position, forcing you to lie to Mama, and no doubt making you worry about my whereabouts. I am so sorry, Aunt Constance, but you must believe me when I say that I did it only because I thought it for the best.’
‘Silly child, of course I realise that. I am only sorry that you felt the need to act without first consulting me. I thought you trusted me, Clarissa. I thought you knew you could always turn to me if you were in need of help.’
‘Indeed, dearest Aunt Constance, I thought of it, I assure you. Only, knowing what you think of Amelia, I was not sure you would want to help. And so I did such a stupid thing, and now we are all reaping the consequences of it, myself as much as Mama and Amelia. And, oh, Aunt Constance, if ever any of this gets out, I will have brought such shame and disgrace to your good name, too, as you truly don’t deserve.’
‘Clarissa, my dear, I cannot believe you would ever deliberately do anything to shame me, you must not be worrying your head about that. Whatever has happened, I’m sure that if we put our heads together we can fix it. But first you must tell me exactly what has transpired, for I could get no sense out of your mama, and Amelia would only say I must talk to you, and that you had ruined her life.’
‘Well, that’s true enough, Aunt, I think I have. And mine too, for I am ruined, and it is all my own fault.’
‘Ruined? Do not tell me, Clarissa, that your mother spoke the truth? Is it—no, I cannot believe it. She told me you had been seduced. Please tell me that she is mistaken.’
‘No, I wasn’t seduced.’
Aunt Constance clapped her hands together in relief. ‘I knew it, I knew that muddle-headed mother of yours must have managed to get the story amiss.’
‘No, you don’t understand. I was not seduced, but I am no longer innocent. I was not coerced, nor was I ravished. I was—I was compliant. It’s not Kit’s fault, no matter what Mama says, but I am ruined none the less. Oh, Aunt Constance, the truly wicked thing is, I cannot bring myself to regret it.’
Her aunt struggled to absorb the import of Clarissa’s words. ‘My dear, please tell me you are not deluded into thinking you are in love with this man?’
‘Oh, but I am, I am, I am. I cannot help it, I can’t, I love him so much, and I have made such a mull of it, and now there is no future for it. But still, I cannot regret it. You will hate me for it, but I won’t lie to you, Aunt. I do love him.’
Slowly, determinedly, Lady Constance extracted the round tale, her face becoming grimmer with each admission from her niece. Of Amelia and Lady Maria’s part in the whole thing Clarissa made little, but Lady Constance heard enough to make up her own mind. Heard enough to have a pretty clear picture of Lady Maria’s stupidity and Amelia’s selfishness.
At the end, she held Clarissa close, assuring her that all would be well, that she was on her side and would never think ill of her. Inside she was cold and furious, already planning the best way of raining retribution down on Kit Rasenby’s arrogant, selfish head. His sister, Lady Marlborough, was long overdue a visit. Lady Constance would start there. If nothing else came out of this, Kit Rasenby’s conscience would certainly take a battering from which it would never recover.
Allowing her niece no hint of these thoughts, Lady Constance turned to practicalities. The letter from Fortescue and Brown detailing Lady Maria’s debts was pursued with a deep frown, and Amelia was summoned. ‘I understand that you opened your sister’s letter to Edward Brompton, Amelia. I trust that you are aware that you should not have done so? To pry into another’s private correspondence is the kind of behaviour one would expect from servants.’
Amelia, who had never been able to stand up to Aunt Constance, hung her head in shame.
‘Well, have you nothing to say?’
‘I’m sorry, Aunt Constance, I only did it to help Clarissa out.’
‘And in what way did you imagine you would be helping her, Amelia?’
‘I just thought if I knew why she was writing to Edward, I might be able to give her some advice.’
‘That is a ridiculous lie, and you know it. I can only hope that this Edward fellow was as shocked as I to find his correspondence tampered with.’
Am
elia blushed at the memory of Edward’s reaction. He had indeed lectured her, and it had quite spoiled the evening.
‘Well, I can see from your face that Edward does have some sense then. And did he also have a reply for Clarissa’s query?’
‘No, not immediately, Aunt. He said he would look into the matter, and would give Clarissa the information she wanted if he could do so without any breach of confidence.’
‘Hmm. Obviously a much more sensible young man than you deserve. I am told you love each other and wish to marry, but his meagre prospects are a barrier. In that case I would like to meet this young man. You may inform him that he can call on me tomorrow at eleven. If I am happy with him, I will see what I can do. Despite what you think, Amelia, I have no desire to see you unhappy, and every wish to see you happily settled, even if you scarcely deserve it. If there is anything I can do to further Edward’s position, I will look into it—if, and only if, I have your promise that you will interfere no further in your sister’s concerns.’
‘But, Aunt, what about—’
Lady Constance continued inexorably. ‘I will hear no more from you on any subject, Amelia. You will leave Clarissa alone and refrain from any discussion at all of the events that have taken place over the last three days. If I hear that you have made any attempt to open negotiations of any sort with any gentleman other than Edward Brompton, I will disown you. Am I absolutely clear?’
‘Yes, Aunt Constance.’
‘You may leave us now.’ Lady Constance waved an imperious hand. Amelia left with relief, casting a backwards sympathetic glance at her sister, looking extremely subdued on the sofa.
‘I must go now, Clarissa,’ Lady Constance said, drawing on her gloves. ‘I have a lot to do, and a lot to think about. You must get some rest, child, and try not to worry for the present. We must wait and see if there are any other consequences of your liaison with Lord Rasenby, and pray for your sake that there are not. In the meantime, you must naturally have no further contact with him. As to your mother’s debts, you may trust me to investigate the matter fully. It may be possible to negotiate repayment on easier terms, I will know more when I have spoken to this Edward person and learned who your mother’s creditor is.’
‘Aunt, I’m so sorry that you’ve been put through all this. I hadn’t meant you to become involved. I’ve made such a mess and caused you all this worry when I thought I could deal with it myself.’
‘Clarissa, once and for all I assure you, dear child, that my only regret is that you didn’t feel you could turn to me in the first place. Perhaps this could have been avoided if you had.’ Seeing Clarissa’s lip tremble, Lady Constance hastened to hug her reassuringly. ‘There, you are a good child, you deserve better than this. Now try to put all of this out of your head, you really must get some rest. This whole episode has been traumatic for you, more than you realise yourself at present. But time, you know, is a great healer. One final thing before I go. I want your assurance that you have told me everything. I would rather know the worst if there is aught else.’
Of Kit’s latest proposal and their meeting this morning, Clarissa had not spoken, and she found that she could not bring herself to now. So she shook her head in denial, hugging her aunt close, promising to retire at once to her bed and to worry no more.
Lady Constance left in her waiting town coach, already planning her next steps with something akin to relish. It was nice to feel she could be of use. She was looking forward to getting one over on Lord Rasenby. He would find she was no mean adversary.
Deciding to act immediately, while her anger still fuelled her thoughts, Lady Constance directed her coachman to take her to Lady Letitia Marlborough’s house. She was fortunate enough to find Kit’s sister at home alone. The interview gave her some satisfaction, providing, as it did, a relief for her pent-up emotions. When Lady Constance departed she left her old friend shocked, upset, and in a state of high dudgeon. Lady Constance had every expectation that all this pent-up ire would soon be raining down on Kit Rasenby.
It was late in the day and she was tired but reasonably satisfied with her efforts. Her only regret was that she would not be present to witness the confrontation between Letitia and Kit.
Having spent the remainder of the evening, despite her promise to her aunt, ruminating on events, Clarissa went to bed clear in her own mind that there was only one possible answer to Kit’s proposal. She loved him, that much was beyond dispute. His offer was therefore tempting from a purely selfish point of view, scarcely impossible as it was to contemplate life without him. Tempting too since she could, if she chose, conveniently assuage her guilt by convincing herself she was making a selfless sacrifice to secure Mama’s and Amelia’s future. But it was wrong and she knew it. She could be nobody’s mistress, it was marriage or nothing, and even then, only if she was truly loved. Since Kit was offering neither marriage nor true love, it could not be.
Clarissa realised that there was something else even more important. Kit cared for her more than he knew, or would admit, but eventually he would grow tired of her and bring their liaison to a conclusion. Knowing that the ending was coming, inevitably, surely, on some yet-to-be-decided date, would be intolerable to Clarissa. No, she could not settle for anything less than perfect. She knew in her heart what she must do. It was precisely because she loved him so deeply that she must turn him down.
A night’s rest saw Clarissa full of renewed determination. She arose early, but her note to Kit, brief as it was, took her some time and many sheets of paper before the final version was ready to be delivered. Clarissa thanked him profusely for his very generous offer, was most flattered by it, but found that, alas, she must in all conscience, refuse it. She reminded him of his promise to make her no other offers, and assured him that she had no regrets. While their time together had been enlightening and for the most part enjoyable, it was time to end it. She trusted Kit would respect her wishes and cease all communications between them. There was no need to reply to this letter. Clarissa wished him well.
Refusing steadfastly to give in to the tears that seemed to be taking over her life these days, Clarissa next turned her attentions to the future. Aunt Constance seemed confident that something could be done about Mama’s debts, and perhaps even Amelia’s marriage, if Edward came up to scratch, but she could do nothing for a ruined niece. Forcing herself to face up to harsh reality, hoping that it would eventually dull the pain in her heart that threatened to overcome her with each thought of Kit, Clarissa turned her mind to obtaining a position. It would not be easy, but a governess or lady’s companion she must be. With a heavy heart she pursued the advertisements in the Tatler.
Kit slept soundly, confident that the morrow would bring Clarissa’s consent to his proposition. Waking at his usual time he smiled, embracing the day with a sense of pleasurable anticipation that surprised him, until he traced the feeling of well-being to Clarrie, and thoughts of what today would bring. He looked forward to spending his money on her, looked forward to looking after her—for the present, in any case. They could travel, she would like that, and he could teach her to sail. They would spend some time at Thornwood. She would not like to mix with the ton as his mistress, and he did not in any case wish to share her.
With irritation, he dismissed the voice in his head that asked him just how long he expected their liaison to last, his record to date of a mere two months being hardly sufficient for these plans. There was no need to put a timescale to it, no need to think of life after Clarissa. She was different. Two months—that was paltry.
The familiar writing on the letter proffered by his valet caused Kit’s heart to skip a beat. Assuring himself that she was merely writing to confirm their arrangement to meet later, Kit opened the short note and quickly scanned the contents, anger warring with disbelief and enormous disappointment. What was her game? Surely she did not think she could up the stakes now?
Swearing softly, he became aware that Fanshaw was hovering by the bed. ‘Well?’
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br /> ‘I am sorry to have to tell you that Lady Marlborough awaits your lordship’s pleasure. She apologises for calling at such an early hour, but says that the matter is of such import it will not wait. Hodges has placed her in the breakfast parlour, my lord.’
‘God damn it, what the hell does she want? Did she say what it was about?’
‘No, my lord, when Hodges inquired further she merely repeated that the matter was urgent.’
‘No doubt that brat of a nephew of mine has been trying out his blasted gaming system again. Oh, very well, then, tell her I’ll be down as soon as I can.’
‘And the letter, my lord—is there a reply?’
‘No, there is not. And you can take your interfering nose out of my business and get on with shaving me.’
‘Yes, my lord.’ With injured innocence, Fanshaw traipsed to the dressing room to gather together the necessary component’s of Kit’s riding dress. There was definitely something afoot with the master, and if Fanshaw knew anything about it, it had to do with that young woman from Thornwood Manor. He’d give a lot to see the letter, but it was already locked away safely in Kit’s writing table.
‘Well, Letty, what is so urgent that you must needs call before breakfast? It’s not like you to be up so betimes.’ Kit strode into the breakfast parlour an hour later, planting a brief kiss on his sister’s cheek before pouring himself a draught of ale. ‘Have you eaten? Did Hodges bring you coffee?’
‘I am in no mood for sustenance, Kit, and neither will you be when you’ve heard what I’ve got to say. I have a very busy day ahead of me, I can scarcely afford the time for this matter, you know. I am engaged to take the girls to see the illuminations at Vauxhall tonight, and I have a host of errands to attend to before then.’
The Wicked Lord Rasenby Page 21
