"Although, now I do ponder it, I do not think that man capable of siring boys. Oh well," Clarissa said cheerily, "on to Miss Warthom and her sister, Eliza. No, never mind, I cannot stop to mingle with mere ladies. I must be about my duty to find myself a husband whom I can tolerate. A most difficult dilemma, is it not?"
"Really, Clarissa," Jane began, her cheeks flushed and her brow as white as chalk.
"Ah, but who is that in the corner with Perry? He's a likely looking young gentleman. Tall, well dressed, dry; why, he may be the very thing."
"Good evening, Lady Jane," he said with a bow.
"Good evening, Lord Stanson," Jane said.
Perry said, "May I introduce my sister, Lady Clarissa Walingford, to you? This is her first trip to London this season."
"My lord." Clarissa curtsied modestly.
"Lady Clarissa," Stanson answered. "Your first London season? And how are you finding it? An amusement, one hopes."
"Oh, yes, I have been often amused," Clarissa said, smiling. Stanson spoke with a slight lisp. Really, she had never heard her name pronounced so… delightfully in her life.
"How lovely," he answered. "And what sights have you seen thus far?"
He was not bad to look upon, though he had a mole near his nose and, of course, that lisp.
"Only the dressmakers thus far, my lord, and whatever amusements can be found within this room," she answered.
Perry grinned and took a quiet sip of his drink. Jane coughed and fussed with her shawl. Clarissa stood with complete composure, looking up at the Lord Stanson and all the amusements he offered her.
"She only came down last week," Perry offered into a silence that was stretching out uncomfortably. "I imagine that she'll be out more now that her wardrobe is set."
"Perry, a woman does not care to have her wardrobe deficits discussed in public," Clarissa said, "even if those deficits are now canceled. London has so much to offer, does it not, Lord Stanson?"
"Yes, the best shopping in all the world, I daresay. Have you tried Lackington's shop? The best bookseller in the city. He even carries the most popular novels, which are an especial favorite with my own sisters," Stanson said.
"Really?" Clarissa smiled too sweetly. "I shall stop there tomorrow."
"If you will excuse us, Lord Stanson?" Jane said, steering Clarissa away. "I see Lady Morland and must compliment her on the sweetness of her tarts."
"It is not her tarts that concern you," Clarissa said when they had left Stanson behind to resume his conversation with Perry.
"No, it is the tartness of your tongue. Were you going to tell him that you do not read novels?" Jane asked.
"Why would I be so rude when he was only trying to help me find proper London amusements?" Clarissa asked in return. "Really, Jane, you must think me a horrid child to have such fears concerning my deportment."
"Well," Jane huffed. "I do apologize. It is only that you do seem to be possessed of an uncertain temper tonight, when the evening is so lovely."
"Temper? I have no temper," Clarissa said somewhat stiffly.
"And the scar on Braden's hand did not come from the cup you threw at him?"
Clarissa lifted her chin in annoyance. "If all my childhood indiscretions are to be laid at my feet, I shall surely stumble. But do not all children fight?"
"Clarissa, it was but two years ago," Jane said dryly.
"And I was sorely provoked, if you will also recall," Clarissa defended.
Braden, home on leave from his regiment, had thrown her cat out of the window for making a bed for itself on his sleeping face. And she was the one accused of having a temper?
"Your pet was fine. She landed on her feet, as cats will do."
"I do not see how it pertains. It was most unreasonable of him to react so violently to a sleeping cat."
"Ah, Fanny," Jane said, ending the budding argument, "what a lovely evening. You have made us all, each one, feel so very welcome."
"You are most kind, Jane," Fanny replied with a genuine smile. Hostessing was so very trying, and one had to think of so many details. Another guest had caught her attention and she drifted over to smile with warmth and welcome.
Perry quietly joined the ladies of his house and whispered to Clarissa, "You're fortunate. Stanson did not realize that you mocked him."
"If he is as obtuse as all that, then I am fortunate in finding out so soon. I will not wed a dullard."
"You will not wed at all, if you follow your inclinations."
"But I am not following my inclinations. I am following the course of familial duty. And I will marry, Perry. You may rely upon it," Clarissa said firmly.
Perry smiled and bowed to her. "Rely upon it I will. How do you progress?"
"Not well," she said bluntly. "But it has been only an hour and I am not discouraged. I never buy the first hat I try, and I don't imagine shopping for a husband to be a matter of less consequence than a hat."
"Clarissa!" Jane remonstrated.
"Well spoken, Clarissa," Perry said, laughing.
"Excuse me," Fanny said, rejoining them, "but I don't believe I've introduced Lord Montwyn to you."
Clarissa turned and faced the man whom she had observed speaking to Lindley earlier in the evening. He was more forbidding when seen at close quarters, and more handsome. He knew it, too, and such arrogance, such pride, was more tempting a target than she could bear to turn from.
He bowed. She curtsied. And she waited. Such a man would feel it his right to speak first. She would allow him that, for it was she who would have the last word.
"You are new to London, Lady Clarissa," he said.
"I am. Does it show?" she answered.
Perry snorted in amusement while Jane gathered breath to fuss and apologize.
"Actually, yes," he answered, his smile as light and bright as a rapier.
Looking up at him, at his dark brows and his deep green eyes, his very unrepentant eyes, Clarissa felt herself smile. Finally, a worthy adversary.
"Really," she responded. "Would it be terribly gauche of me to ask how I have… exposed myself?"
"If you will excuse me, Lord Montwyn, Clarissa," Jane said, "I will visit with Miss Walburn."
Montwyn bowed at her departure and then turned back to Clarissa and Perry.
"Let us not say 'exposed,' but rather 'revealed.'"
"Really, I cannot say I approve of this conversation," Perry interrupted.
"I'm certain that Lord Montwyn would not 'expose' me to any conversation not within the bounds of correct London etiquette. Would you?" she said.
"The bounds of etiquette shall be observed, naturally. I would do nothing to damage your reputation, Lady Clarissa."
"My brother will be relieved to hear it," she said.
"But not you?" Montwyn asked.
"I guard my own reputation, Lord Montwyn."
"And she does a fine job of it, too," Perry added.
"But this is London, Lady Clarissa," Montwyn said, his eyes twinkling, "and you are inexperienced."
"Rather say I am new to London, sir. I am not inexperienced."
"No?" He smiled. "But that is how I knew you were new to town. Your naivete lights you like a candle."
Clarissa took a breath and felt herself grow still at the raw sting of his insult. This man was different, and it was not London that made him so. His pride lit him like a bonfire, and while the light drew the eye, the heat of him was oppressive.
"I am certain you are mistaken. My education has been most complete."
"Yet how else to explain my knowing that you were new to town?"