Rushed to the Altar

by Jane Feather

  “It certainly appears so,” she said with a placid smile, even as her stomach recoiled in revulsion. “Such a night makes the entertainment offered by Mother Griffiths seem rather tame by comparison.”

  “Oh, I daresay I could arrange such a spectacle for you, my dear. One in which you could participate if you were so inclined. There are several establishments in the Piazza where a man can request a tableaux vivant, offering any activity that appeals to him. Alas, my days of participation are long gone and I can only watch these days. But I still find such spectacles quite enchanting. Would you care to participate in such a one? You would find it well worth your while.”

  “As it happens, I might have something to say about that, sir.”

  They both turned to the door. Jasper stood there, his expression unreadable except for his black eyes, which were as hot as hell’s own inferno. “Forgive me for disturbing your tete-à-tête.” He came further into the room, his gaze sweeping over Clarissa, who sat still as stone, her face pale, her eyes fixed upon the viscount as she tried to conceal her overwhelming relief at this timely arrival.

  After a moment, once she was sure she had herself well in hand, she said lightly, “Oh, his lordship has been entertaining me most amusingly, Jasper.” She touched the pages in her lap. “Such daringly shameless adventures, you wouldn’t believe.”

  “I’m sure I would. Give those to me.” He took them from her lap and dropped them disdainfully onto the table beside his uncle. “I trust you’ve amused yourself adequately for one morning, sir.”

  His uncle gave a crack of laughter. “Oh, very much so, my boy. She’s delightful, this whore of yours.”

  Clarissa rose from her chair. “If you have no further need of me, my lord, I will take my leave. Did you see Sally downstairs, Lord Blackwater?”

  “Yes, she’s waiting. Let us go.” He bowed her to the door, waiting until she was out of earshot on the stairs, before saying quietly over his shoulder, “Be careful you don’t set too high a price, uncle.”

  The old man laughed again. “That’s unlikely, dear boy. Besides, I was merely assuring myself that my conditions are being honestly met.”

  Jasper closed the door on the viscount’s laughter and went down to the hall. Clarissa was very pale now, her hands shaking a little as she drew on her gloves. “Why does he so enjoy insulting me?”

  “Oh, he enjoys insulting anyone who can’t fight back.” He looked closely at her. “You, I think, fought back.”

  “He didn’t win, if that’s what you mean.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. I doubt he’ll trouble you again.”

  Clarissa shook her head. “I devoutly hope not. Come, Sally.” She went to the door as the footman held it open. Jasper’s curricle was in the street, his groom walking the horses slowly up and down in front of the house.

  “Sally, I’m afraid you will have to walk back with Tom.” Jasper handed Clarissa into the curricle, then jumped up onto the box, taking the reins. “Let go their heads, Tom.” The horses sprang forward. “A drive will blow the old man’s devilment from your mind,” he said lightly. “Unless you’d rather go straight home.”

  “No,” she said swiftly. “I would very much like to air my mind; it feels like a cesspit.”

  He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I can well believe it. My uncle is a lover of the midden, and always has been. But it behooves me to keep him sweet. The best revenge will be his fortune.”

  Clarissa wasn’t sure that any revenge would be sufficient short of twisting a knife slowly in the evil old man’s gut.

  “There’s to be a masquerade tonight at Ranelagh Gardens.” Jasper turned his horses through the park gates. “Do you care to go? I have it in mind to make up a small party.”

  “Oh, yes, I’ve heard so much about the gardens, and the Chinese pavilion. But what does one wear to a masquerade?”

  He glanced sideways at her. “Have you never been to a public ridotto before? It’s one of the most popular trysting places for ladies of the night.”

  “This lady of the night has not had that pleasure,” she responded a shade tartly. “The opportunity has never come my way.”

  “Then we will remedy the situation,” he said amiably. “You need a mask and a domino over your gown. The unmasking takes place at midnight. Of course, everyone knows who everyone is, but it’s a harmless sport.”

  “I should like to go.”

  “Then so you shall. I’ll bring the mask and domino when I come for you at ten o’clock tonight.”

  Clarissa nodded and returned to the subject uppermost in her mind, her interview with Lord Bradley. “Who told you where to find me this morning?”

  “That young Frank gave me a very vivid description of the carriage which had taken you away. He sounded a little alarmed at being abandoned by both you and Sally, carried off in such an exotic vehicle.” He gave her another sideways glance.

  “He wanted to accompany us, but I considered it inappropriate,” Clarissa said with perfect composure. “It’s not surprising he should have been a little frightened if neither of us was there to protect him. He’s still afraid the sweep will find him and take him away.” There was a kernel of truth there, she told herself. They were both afraid that Luke would somehow find them.

  Jasper nodded. “Well, he’s a very observant child. He described the arms on the coach down to the last gilded leaf.” He whistled to himself for a few minutes before saying, “Surprisingly for a sweep’s boy, he seems to know his letters.”

  “Really?” Clarissa managed to sound incredulous. “I must ask him how he learned them.”

  “Mmm. I’d be interested in knowing the answer.” He raised a hand in salute and bowed to two ladies in a landaulet coming towards them. He drew rein as they came abreast. “Lady Huffington . . . Lady Susan. How delightful to see you. Are you acquainted with Mistress Ordway?”

  Clarissa bowed as Lady Huffington raised a quizzing glass and examined her rather rudely before giving her a stiff nod. Lady Susan, a young woman of timid manner, offered a shy smile and a quick duck of her head as Lord Blackwater bestowed a warm smile upon her.

  “Don’t be such a great gaby, girl,” her mama scolded. “Bid his lordship a proper good morning. What will he think of you?”

  Lady Susan flushed scarlet and looked ready to weep. “G . . . good morning, my lord.”

  Jasper bowed gravely. “It is certainly a beautiful one. Good day to you, ma’am . . . Lady Susan.” He flicked his whip and the horses moved on again.

  “Is that one of the young ladies who’s set her cap at you?” Clarissa inquired with interest.

  “Her mother has certainly,” he responded aridly.

  “My presence hasn’t changed that?”

  “In general mistresses are not considered a barrier to marriage. These fond mamas will merely inform their daughters that they must expect their husbands to seek a certain amount of entertainment outside the marriage bed.” His tone was sardonic, his eyes flat and humorless. He didn’t look at all like the man Clarissa was accustomed to.

  “What happens when you announce your engagement?”

  “There will be no announcement. The first anyone will know of it will be an after-the-fact announcement of our marriage. At which point we’ll retreat to my family estates in Northumberland.”

  Northumberland. It was the first Clarissa had heard of beating such a retreat. But it would be perfect. Luke would never find them there; it was a wild county, way up north. She and Francis would be perfectly safe up there until she gained her majority. And then . . . then what?

  “What’s the matter?” He looked at her sharply. “What did I say to trouble you?”

  “Nothing . . . only that . . . well, I didn’t know we would be going so far from London.”

  That was not it at all, he thought with grim conviction. However, he said mildly, “But, my dear, we have to have a honeymoon. It is expected after all. And it will serve to put scandal to rest. Gossip cannot exist
in a vacuum and if its objects are not around to furnish more choice morsels, then it dies a death.”

  “And when will the marriage be annulled? Before we come back to town, or after?”

  “A matter for later discussion, I believe. We haven’t solemnized the marriage yet, so it seems a moot point at this time.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I suppose it does.” Her tone was dull.

  Jasper fought a silent battle with the increasingly frequent urge to shake the truth out of her. They drove once more around the park, responding to greetings, before he drove back to Half Moon Street, where Tom awaited him outside the house. “Miss Sally’s gone in, ma’am.” He helped Clarissa down from the curricle.

  “Thank you.” She glanced up at Jasper, who was still in the curricle. “Are you not coming in?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to keep my horses standing in the cold.” Ordinarily he would have sent them back to the mews with Tom and walked home himself later, but the abortive conversation in the park had exasperated him so much he wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to let it infect the next few hours.

  “Have I angered you in some way?” She could feel the discordance between them like the intimation of a coming thunderstorm in the air.

  “Is there a reason why you should have?” He watched her face, saw the uncertainty flash across the jade eyes, and for a moment had a surge of hope, but it was short-lived.

  “I will expect you this evening then?” Her smile couldn’t conceal her disappointment.

  The smile tugged at his heartstrings, but he wasn’t ready to let go of his irritation just yet. Maybe an afternoon alone would provide her with some much-needed reflection. “At ten o’clock.” He waited until she was admitted into the house before driving away.

  Francis was waiting in the hall, hiding in the shadows of the staircase. “Where’s the man?” he whispered, creeping out into the hall.

  “He’s taking his horses back to the stable. Why are you hiding there?”

  “I didn’t want him to see me if he came in with you.” Francis hugged her knees. “Why did you go with Sally? I was frightened all alone.”

  “You weren’t alone, love. Mistress Newby was here, and Sammy.”

  “They couldn’t save me from Uncle Luke.”

  “Oh, I daresay Mistress Newby’s very fierce with an iron skillet and a rolling pin.”

  That made him laugh, and she took him upstairs with her. Jasper would not return unexpectedly. He had been angry and she knew why. He knew she had secrets, and he wanted to hear them. And she couldn’t bear angering him, any more than she could endure this lack of trust for much longer. Tonight, after the ridotto, when they were home in bed, in the dark, when she couldn’t see his face, she would try to give him a little more of the truth. She couldn’t risk the end of the charade completely. He must still believe that their marriage would fulfill his uncle’s demand, but she could give him a little.

  She realized that her brother was speaking to her, tugging at her skirt. “What’s the matter, ’Rissa?”

  She shook herself out of her dismal reverie and turned her attention to the child. “You should really do some lessons, Francis.” His education was being shamefully neglected, but there was little she could do about it. They had none of his schoolbooks with them. She sat him down on the window seat and gave him some arithmetic problems to solve as a sop to her conscience, then returned to the troublesome business of finishing her composition to Lawyer Danforth, which had been interrupted by her visitors the previous morning. How to reassure him without giving anything away? It was the devil’s own task.

  She finished it finally. It was not entirely satisfactory but it would have to do. She sanded the sheet, folded it, and sealed it, before writing the address, then she rang for Sally. “Could you take this to the post for me, Sally?”

  Sally took the letter, asking in surprise, “You don’t want his lordship to frank it for you, ma’am?”

  “Oh, no, there’s no need. The recipient will be happy to pay the postage,” she responded with confidence. “I’d like it to catch the night mail.”

  “I’ll send young Sammy. Fleet as the wind he is.” Sally glanced curiously at Frank, sucking the end of his quill as he considered a problem. “What’s he doing?”

  “Sums. I was thinking we might send him to a dame school or something,” Clarissa responded vaguely. “He seems a sharp lad; a little education might help him get on in the world.”

  Sally looked very doubtful, but it wasn’t her place to argue. She took the letter and hurried to find Sammy.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jasper entered Clarissa’s bedchamber just before ten o’clock that evening. She turned on her dresser stool as he came in. She felt that familiar lurch in her belly at the sight of him, a swift racing in her blood. He was wearing a coat of dusky red silk edged with his favorite silver lace. Lace frothed at his throat and wrists, and for once he wore his hair fashionably powdered and fastened in a queue at his neck with an engraved silver clasp. His eyes looked blacker than ever, but they held a deep glow of intensity as he subjected her to a frankly appreciative scrutiny.

  “My lord, I didn’t realize you were here already.” She smiled, immensely relieved that she could detect none of his earlier anger. “How handsome you look.”

  He tossed a parcel onto the bed. “Be so good as to unwrap that, Sally.” He swept Clarissa a flourishing bow. “You are too kind, ma’am. I can only hope I will make a worthy escort for such a beautiful lady.”

  Clarissa laughed, screwing an enameled stud into her ear. “I am impervious to empty compliments, sir.”

  “Oh, believe me, there’s nothing empty about them when made to you.” He came up behind her. “Don’t put those in. I have something else for you.” He laid a square box on the dresser. “Open it,” he prompted when she looked blankly between the box and then himself.

  Clarissa lifted the lid. Her mouth opened on an O of wonderment. A pair of diamond studs nestled in the silken interior, with a diamond collar and a matching comb. She looked up at him. “What are these?”

  “What do they look like?” He took out the collar and fastened it at her neck. The stones winked and flashed against her pale throat. “Fasten the studs.”

  She did not immediately comply, holding them on her palm. “They’re so beautiful . . . so delicate. Whom do they belong to?”

  “They will belong to my wife. They are traditionally the property of the Countess of Blackwater, passed on her death to the wife of the eldest son.”

  “I don’t think I can wear them.” Clarissa looked up at him, shaking her head. “Indeed, Jasper, it doesn’t feel right.”

  “It is quite right, and you will wear them.” He spoke firmly, taking the comb and inserting it in the plaited crown of her hair. “Fasten the studs now, I would see how they suit you.”

  Slowly she screwed them in place and gazed at her reflection in awe. The diamonds were magnificent stones, blue light seeming to pour from their depths. “What will people think?”

  “Exactly what they’re supposed to think.” He turned to Sally, who had been observing the proceedings in wide-eyed silence. “Will you place the comb, Sally? I don’t think I have it quite right.”

  “Yes, m’lord.” Sally held the comb reverently. Nothing like this had ever adorned the head of her previous mistress. She inserted it with deft fingers, twisting clustered ringlets around her fingers to encourage them to curl more tightly. “Beautiful, madam,” she breathed. “They could have been made for you.”

  Clarissa wondered if finally she had stepped way out of her depth. Her mother’s jewelry collection contained some fine pieces, but none as magnificent as this set. She was accustomed to wearing the simplest of adornments herself, hence the enameled ear studs, and now she felt like a usurper.

  “Stand up and let me look at you properly.”

  She did so, turning slowly to face him. Her gown was of gold tissue over a petticoat of celest
ial blue damask. The elbow-length sleeves ended in wide lace ruffles. The blue of the damask brought blue light dancing in the facets of the diamond collar, which in turn drew the eye to the ivory swell of her breasts over the low décolletage.

  “It seems a pity to conceal such enchantment,” Jasper murmured. “But a masquerade is a masquerade. Bring the domino here, Sally. Amazingly I chose the perfect color.”

  The domino was a rich blue silk fastened with pale blue ribbons down the front. The mask was dark blue velvet, concealing the upper part of her face. “How exotic,” Clarissa murmured, forgetting her discomfort over the diamonds as she looked at her image. “What color is your domino?”

  “Black, of course.” He gestured to the garment on the bed. “Black as night. But the mask is gold.” He laughed at her expression. “I can enter into the spirit of these games as well as anyone, my dear. Come, shall we go?” He offered her his arm.

  His carriage was downstairs, furnished as always with the comforting fur lap rugs and hot bricks. Ranelagh Gardens was a little out of London in the village of Chelsea and Clarissa felt an ordinary excitement at the prospect of the evening ahead. It was such a normal emotion it took her aback. She hadn’t had an ordinary response to anything in months it seemed. But she felt just as Clarissa Astley would have done on her way to her first masquerade in the magical wonderland of Ranelagh Gardens. Except that Clarissa Astley would not have been decked out in a king’s ransom of diamonds.

  It was a chilly night, but braziers lined the gravel paths leading to the Rotunda and the Chinese pavilion. Lamps spilling golden light were strung between the trees, illuminating the scene in a soft glow. Light blazed from the buildings, from the supper boxes warmed by braziers overlooking the gardens and fountains. Masked people strolled the pathways in many-colored dominos, like a garden of butterflies, Clarissa thought, entranced. Strains of music filled the air. She looked at Jasper and saw that he was watching her expression with a strange look in his eye.