“Thank you.” She retreated to a cabinet near the back of the shop. She’d seen a nice pair of lace gloves that might compliment the gown she planned to wear—if she could afford them. Most likely, she’d have to try a shop that didn’t cater to the titled set.
As a new swell of ladies entered, Clarice stepped into the path of another woman, bumping her arm. “Oh, excusez-moi,” she murmured. She lifted her gaze and connected with a pair of brilliant blue eyes that immediately put her in mind of Felix. How curious. Before meeting Lord Swandon, she’d never seen such intense eyes and now, here was another pair.
“Think nothing of it.” The woman, probably around her own age, smiled which set her eyes dancing. Dark red hair peeked from beneath the brim of a green velvet-trimmed bonnet. “Quite a mad crush here.”
“Yes, it is.” Clarice clutched the box in one hand and fingered a pair of gloves with the other. “So pretty but too expensive,” she whispered. Knowing she had a wealth of errands still to run for Lady Drummond, she resigned herself to the fact that she’d need to darn a pair of her old gloves sometime before the party.
The woman beside her held up an exquisite pair of elbow length gray kid gloves so thin they’d undoubtedly fit like a second skin. “Pardon me, but do you find these at all attractive, or would a different color be best?”
Clarice turned toward her. “They are very pretty and would flatter your complexion.”
“Hmm.” She held them nearer to Clarice’s face. “Actually, they’d look much better on someone with your coloring.” A faint smile tipped up one side of her mouth.
How extraordinary. She reminds me of Felix at every turn. Tact never being her strong suit, Clarice laid a hand on the redhead’s arm. “Forgive me for being so forward, but would you happen to be a relation of Felix, er, I mean Lord Swandon? You strongly put me in mind of him.”
The other woman’s grin widened. She laid the pair of gloves down. “I’m his sister, Charlotte, and you must be Miss Delacroix. Felix has mentioned you many times.”
“Oh?” Her heart lurched and her cheeks warmed. He’d talked to his sister about her? That could either be good or bad. “I’d love to know in what context, but I’ll try to hold my tongue.” After all, she didn’t know his sister and she certainly wasn’t a contemporary who could gossip.
“I have a feeling you and I will get along famously.” The other woman chuckled and linked her arm with Clarice’s. “Please, call me Charlotte. Let’s go outside where we can chat in a more private venue.” Once they both had moved outside and strolled along Bond Street, Charlotte continued, “Are you attending the Amherst to-do?”
“Yes.” Clarice nodded. “Lady Drummond received our invite not long ago, and acted as if it was a bit of a surprise.” At the last second she tempered her enthusiasm and the urge to babble. What if Charlotte wasn’t as friendly as her brother? “It would seem that neither Lady Drummond nor the Earl of Wynesford had ever been issued an invitation to the duke’s residence before.”
“Isn’t that interesting,” Charlotte murmured. “The rascal manipulated things.”
“Is, um, Felix attending as well?” She couldn’t help asking after him. Ever since the heated kiss they’d shared in the Darrington kitchen, he’d not been far from her mind. Even now, the remembrance of that kiss helped her ignore her aches.
Charlotte nodded. “Absolutely he is. In fact, he had declined all invitations originally, but when he discovered this one was for Amherst, he agreed to attend with Mother and me two weeks ago. His original plan had been to escort Lady Drummond, but I guess he changed his mind.” She patted Clarice’s hand. “My brother doesn’t enjoy parties or social functions of any kind so I was quite baffled as to his change of attitude.”
“Two weeks ago? That’s when Lady Drummond received her invite. It had both our names on the envelope.” She remembered because Olivia had not been best pleased about that development, but someone had publicly included her on the envelope. A small smile curved her lips. Did Felix have a hand in that? Her heart trembled. Her bottom lip quivered. He is quite an amazing man. “Well, I am grateful regardless of how it happened.”
Charlotte tugged her down the street. “Are you nervous? Sometimes these big events make me want to burrow under my bedclothes and wish it away.”
“I am a bit.” More so about catching a glimpse of her father than anything else.
“Perhaps you’ll meet an eligible parti. That would make the nerves worthwhile.”
Clarice glanced at her impromptu companion but could find no hint of guile in Charlotte’s expression. “I don’t know about that as I don’t wish to make a match. Besides, it’s highly doubtful anyone will take notice of me.”
“Why? With your wonderful accent and exotic complexion, I would be surprised if you don’t have men falling at your feet.”
“What gammon you spread, Charlotte.” Clarice nudged her new friend in the ribs. “I have nothing top-notch to wear, and since I would rather die than ask Lady Drummond for a borrowed gown, I suppose I’ll wear my rust-colored dress once again.” She sighed. Perhaps she could fashion some sort of beaded choker to liven up the outfit. “Though Felix has seen that one twice now.” She realized her slip the second Charlotte snorted.
“Ah, no wonder you’re not looking to make a match. My brother holds a place in your heart.” When Clarice remained silent, Charlotte continued, “My girl, I believe you’ve just fallen into a grand run of luck.” She tugged Clarice quickly down the street. “Forget your worries, beautiful Clarice. I shall lend you a gown as well as jewels to match.”
“I beg your pardon?” Clarice stumbled to a halt and drew Charlotte with her. “Why would you do something like this for me? I am but a stranger. You know nothing about me.” Tears misted her vision. She blinked them away as best she could lest her new friend think less of her. It would seem Felix’s sister was just as generous and compassionate as he was.
Charlotte’s laugh tinkled in the afternoon air. The gay sound lifted Clarice’s spirits. “I know enough, but I’m curious about much more.” When she smiled, mischief danced her eyes, very much like Felix’s did. “Let’s just say that sometimes fate needs a push in the right direction.” She gripped Clarice’s free hand. “Come. It will be fun to dig through my closet and put together a smashing outfit for you. I’m so glad I came upon you today.”
“I am too.” Despite the knots twisting in her stomach and the tremors playing at her spine, Clarice allowed the other woman to lead her toward the street where the Darrington townhouse was located. Above everything, she couldn’t help but imagine what Felix’s reaction would be when he saw her dressed in expensive clothes.
For the first time in seemingly forever, she eagerly anticipated an outing.
Clarice stood in Charlotte’s dressing room while her mind spun at the choices the other woman gave her. “How am I supposed to pick one over the other when they’re all so gorgeous?” Three gowns had been draped over chair backs and the colors amazed her: turquoise, pink and a silvery gray dress.
“That’s the glory of being a woman. We can dress according to our mood.” Charlotte’s smile hadn’t dimmed since Clarice had met her. “Honestly, I think the blue will be fantastic against your skin. Please say you’ll try that one on for me.”
“Try it on? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Though Charlotte had sent away her maid, the thought of disrobing in front of her new friend and exposing the marks Lady Drummond had put on her body left her cold.
“Yes, of course. How else will we know that it fits? I cannot put you out in public with an ill-fitting dress.” Charlotte picked up the lovely turquoise gown and draped it over her arm. “Come on, silly. It’s fun.”
Despite her misgivings, excitement fluttered in Clarice’s belly. It truly was a novel experience. Normally, all of her gowns were castoffs and not nearly as beautiful as the one Charlotte held. “Very well.” Quickly, she slipped off her drab drown dress, careful to keep her back from Charlotte.<
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“Don’t be shy. Didn’t you ever try on gowns with your mother?”
“No. Mother was usually given all of her dresses, already done to her size, as gifts from various protectors.” As she stood in her worn shift, she worried her bottom lip. Would Charlotte notice how pathetic her clothing was? Would she care?
Instead, a frown pulled down the corners of Charlotte’s mouth. “If I may speak my mind a little, was your mother a member of the demi-monde? There have been rumors, you see, but I never paid them much mind until Felix mentioned your name.”
Clarice’s stomach clenched. She hadn’t realized she’d made such an admission. Finally, she sighed. There was no point in denying it, and it would be nice to finally share the secret with someone other than Lady Drummond. “My mother was a high-born prostitute as well as an opera singer. Everything she owned came from the men of her acquaintance. It was not an orthodox life, I can tell you.”
“No, I guess it wouldn’t be.” Her eyes held compassion as she looked at Clarice. “Have you told Felix?”
“No.” She forced a swallow into her tight throat. “At first, I wanted to but wasn’t certain if that would color his opinion of me. Later, after we’d shared a few kisses, I became afraid that my response would land me in the same mess my mother had chosen for her life.” Clarice fixed her gaze on the floor. “I refuse to be what she was.”
“I understand. I’m glad you’re doing something to change your circumstances.”
“Yes, well, that is debatable. Do you think once he knows, he will refuse to see me?” He had every right, but she hoped he was made of better mettle than that.
“My brother is everything that is good and brave in this world. I don’t believe the knowledge will change his mind, but he will need to be informed.” Charlotte moved around Clarice. Fabric rustled. “If you don’t mind, take off the shift too. I have a new one you can wear instead. Every woman deserves to have new undergarments for such a big event.”
“I don’t think—”
“Come now, my dear. I’d rather do this fitting now so we can talk before my mother returns with Felix.” A snicker escaped Charlotte. “I don’t relish having to explain your presence to either of them just yet. Felix would be pleased, no doubt, but Mother? I’m simply not ready to fight that battle.”
Her attitude was infectious. Clarice smiled. “No, I don’t suppose that would be an easy problem.” She would have preferred Charlotte to stand at her front, but there was nothing for it. She pulled the shift up and off her head then died a thousand deaths as Charlotte sucked in a breath.
“Good God, Clarice. What happened to you?” She touched a finger to one of the many bruises on Clarice’s back, and Clarice grimaced. “Were you beaten?”
Obviously, the proof was on her skin, and denying it would be an outright lie, but to give up Lady Drummond as the abuser? What sort of trouble would that land her in? She stayed quiet as indecision swept over her.
“You poor lamb.” Charlotte dropped the gown to the floor. With gentle hands she smoothed a shift over Clarice’s head and helped her pull her arms through. “Lady Drummond did this to you, didn’t she?” She turned Clarice around, peered into her eyes then engulfed her in a hug. Clarice stiffened, gasping at the aches. “I’m so sorry.”
After the initial shock of being held by a friend, Clarice slumped into the other woman’s arms. “Thank you. There are times that being in the employ of someone as… determined as Lady Drummond is a trying prospect.” At least she hadn’t confirmed anything. Still, the tears she’d held back since the attack in the carriage came spilling forth and she cried on Charlotte’s shoulder with all the abandon of a lost child.
“Shhh. It’s going to be all right.” Charlotte’s soothing murmurs and her gentle strokes on her back touched Clarice’s heart. “We’re going to put you in that dress and you’re going to look like a princess, blast it.” She pulled slightly away and peeked into Clarice’s face. “No matter what, you will shine at the Amherst rout and eclipse that detestable Lady Drummond. I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.”
Clarice’s tears fell harder. How was it she’d landed in the lap of such wonderful people as the Darringtons? “Thank you. You are an angel.”
“No, I merely want the people I care about to live happy lives.” Charlotte hugged her again. “Now that includes you. We’re going to be fast friends.”
Chapter Eight
Clarice feared her heart might burst from her chest it beat so hard. She followed Lady Drummond through the entryway at the Duke of Amherst’s mansion in Grosvenor Square. After handing over her nicest spencer, she climbed a flight of stairs which led to the rooms where the rout was being held. Candlelight flickered in every chandelier and holder. Mirrors reflected glittering jewels and sumptuous fabrics. The heavy scents of melted candlewax, pomade and talc powder hung in the air. Her palms sweat inside the elbow-length navy gloves she wore. All around her people mingled, laughing and talking, as she and Olivia approached the reception line.
Never had she attended such a lavish party; never had she seen such wealth or such blatant displays of it in one place. The amount of money some of those people probably spent on their clothing could feed a poor family for a year. Clarice trembled at the disparity of it all. She, from humble roots, born on the wrong side of the societal blanket, dressed as a peacock in order to blend in with the very people she knew she should despise.
But oh, how she wanted acceptance for just this one night.
From the back of her mind, she told herself she was the granddaughter of a comte and she had every right to mingle with these people. I can claim my own heritage if I choose. With a quick intake of breath, she grasped a handful of skirting, lifting it so she wouldn’t trip on the hem of the borrowed gown. She smiled as she waited for the line to shuffle forward. The wonderful dress of turquoise silk with a navy blue mull overskirt had split over sleeves and a V-neck bodice in a very French style. Silver embroidery decorated the bodice and hem, glinting with each step she took. She’d protested the indecent amount of cleavage the gown showed when Charlotte made her try it on that fateful afternoon when their friendship began, but Charlotte had laughed away the complaint saying she’d look beautiful and would catch Felix’s eye.
Now, as she watched as the feather in Lady Drummond’s elaborately dressed hair bobbed, Clarice concentrated on keeping her breathing even. The stays cut into her ribcage and she fanned her face to keep away the worst of the heat. Thankfully, the redness and swelling had all but disappeared from her cheeks and forehead. Though the bruises on her back were fading, they didn’t hurt as much. With her free hand, she touched the amethyst stone that dangled from a black velvet choker. The coolness through the gloves it imparted gave a modicum of relief.
“Waiting is so insufferable at times, isn’t it?”
Felix!
The whisper at her ear sent warmth tumbling through her insides and goose flesh over her skin. She twisted around to meet his twinkling blue gaze. From behind him, Charlotte gave a tiny wave and an encouraging smile while an older woman wearing a gray turban—most likely his mother if the resemblance was anything to go by—scowled and looked quickly away. Clarice didn’t care. Her attention remained fixed on him and how dashing he was in the requisite dark evening clothes. His ivory waistcoat gleamed in the candlelight and the few military medals of distinction pinned to his left lapel lent authority to his bearing. Her heart tripped. Longing throbbed between her thighs. For a man like him and to feel what she did now, she’d do almost anything.
Heat swamped her. “I assumed you had already arrived, Fe…, er, my lord,” she whispered, catching her slip in time. She couldn’t very well rely on intimacy while in the midst of such high born company.
“If it had been up to me, I would have, but my sister and mother wanted to arrive fashionably late.” His lips curved with a smile. A sapphire winked from a pin in his snowy cravat. “The line is moving, Miss Delacroix.”
Lady
Drummond glanced over her shoulder at the same moment Clarice faced front. “What lovely timing, Felix. Come, you can escort me as we’re introduced to His Grace. Once people see us together tonight, it shouldn’t be long before we can make an official announcement, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d rather eat my mother’s turban,” he whispered to Clarice as he passed.
Clarice snickered and stepped aside to make room for Felix, then she devoured the breadth of his shoulders with her hungry gaze. The nip of his waist and the strength of his thighs showed to perfect in his evening clothes, and she stifled a sigh before it left her throat.
There was no more time to worry or even think as the line advanced at a quick clip and she offered her hand to men and women who she couldn’t remember their names let alone their titles. She swore her feet didn’t touch the ground as her mind whirred and her heart raced. Then she stood before the man who’d fathered her—the Duke of Amherst. More gray than blond touched his hair, and age as well as fondness for excess lined his face. Dark, beady hazel eyes stared at her as he looked down an aristocratic nose, and indeed, the way he held his chin was the same gesture she’d seen in the mirror countless times. Every inch proclaimed him a powerful duke, a man not to be trifled with. No hint of warmth softened his features.
Her knees knocked. Her hand shook as he briefly touched her fingers and her name was announced as Lady Drummond’s companion.
“A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,” Clarice whispered. She didn’t care that her voice wavered. The moment she’d dreamed of since her mother died had finally arrived.
Lord Amherst kissed her gloved knuckle, his attention on Charlotte beside her. When he released her hand, his eyes narrowed as he focused on her. “You have the look of someone I once knew years ago. Met ‘er in France and brought ‘er back here in ‘er heyday. Damn, but I hate the French now.” His expression darkened. “Took one of my sons from me.”
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