"What were you thinking to speak so to Montwyn, Clarissa? I hope you haven't offended him. He seems a likely chap, after all," Russell said, taking her arm and guiding her out of Lackington's.
Clarissa smiled and said with rueful respect for such a stellar exit, "Worry not, Russell. Lord Montwyn will be smiling for an hour."
Dalton happened upon Beau in the glove maker's shop. Montwyn was wearing an odd sort of half smile, which Dalton took note of but could not decipher. Whatever it was, Beau looked well pleased with himself and, knowing Beau as he did, Dalton could only conclude that Montwyn thought he had Clarissa well in hand. Such a conclusion would not do. An easy victory would only bore him, of that he was certain. Clarissa, nobly doing her part to cause Beau to trip at every turn, needed his help. He was only too glad to give it.
"You know, Beau, Kilworth's cousin is out this season. A fine-looking girl with a pleasing countenance and gentle manner. Blond, I've heard, but whether the curls are natural, no one is offering. She would do for you, I think," Dalton said, looking over Beau's selection. "This gray pair doesn't suit you, Montwyn, too pale."
Beau looked at him askance and tossed the gray to the clerk with a nod, making his selection. "You know that I've been rather taken with your own sister, Dalton. Why fob off Kilworth's cousin on me?"
"Just hate to see you settle in so soon, that's all," Dalton said. "Plenty of girls out this season. Clarissa isn't right for just any man."
"I am not 'any' man," Beau said, selecting a bloodred pair of gloves.
"No, of course not," Dalton said, holding up a pair of parrot green gloves and shuddering mildly before tossing them down. "But perhaps a girl of more… delicacy… would better suit. Marriage is a serious step. One must be certain of eventual contentment."
"I am content with Clarissa."
"But Clarissa is hardly likely to be content with you," Dalton said, choosing a dark brown pair of gloves and nodding his decision to the clerk.
"I beg your pardon?" Beau asked, his voice as rigid as his posture.
"No insult intended, naturally," Dalton said casually.
"Naturally," Beau repeated with a stiff smile.
"For some strange reason, Clarissa has determined to marry only a man with Irish property. And you have nothing there, unless I am mistaken?"
"That's blatantly ridiculous," Beau grumbled, making a mess of the clerk's carefully arranged selection. "Petulant. Outrageous."
"I agree completely, and that is only another reason for you to discard Clarissa from your consideration, as fond as I am of her-"
"It so happens that I do hold an estate in Ireland," Beau bit out, both angry and proud, it seemed to Dalton.
Dalton did an admirable job of appearing shocked. They really would have to get up more private theatricals to stretch his skill and give him the proper acclaim for his talent.
"Wouldn't tell Clarissa 'bout that. Would put you square in her sights," Dalton said in grim warning.
Beau merely scowled at him.
Really, Beau was a most unsatisfying audience.
She'd consider him because he held Irish lands? Ridiculous. Absurd. She'd consider him-by God, she'd have him-for more reason than that. He had lands, yes, and income, and title-all important when making a match, and there was no shame for it to be considered bluntly and in the bold light of day. But for such a girl to weigh him on the scales of matrimonial worth and find him acceptable because of Irish lands and nothing more was… insulting.
He knew his worth. He was a well-built man with regular features and a not unpleasing manner. He'd had his share of victories with women, broken a heart or two when all was said and done; he'd be considered for more than his land. She'd take him for more than his land. And what was more, she'd admit it. He'd not have her marrying him with Irish lands in her thoughts.
If she married him. Beau frowned and silently cursed Dalton and his serpent's tongue. And when he had calmed himself, he cursed Dalton again. It wouldn't do for a brother of hers to be against the match; it was hard for a girl to go against her brother, though Clarissa looked the sort to do as she pleased when it pleased her. That stood in his favor. She was pleased by him, hide it though she would. He was not so dull as not to sense a woman's interest in the very texture of his skin, and when he was near Clarissa Walingford, his skin very nearly burned. There was more to that than Irish lands.
Beau grunted and tugged at his cravat. Were all the brothers against a match between Walingford and Montwyn?
"Beau," Lindley said, interrupting his thoughts. "Didn't think to see you today," he said, stopping, urging Beau to stop his striding walk. Beau stopped. Lindley looked eager to see him. Lindley looking completely eager was something.
"No, well, I was out… shopping," Beau said with a tight smile.
"Yes, well," Lindley said haltingly, "I didn't know if you'd been invited to the Blakelys' tonight."
Beau said nothing; he merely waited, almost joyous at the look of eagerness on Lindley's face. Lindley was clearly not against the match, but Lindley might be alone in that.
"Should be an enjoyable evening," Lindley said. "Clarissa will be there. I hope to see you too."
"I haven't made my plans for the evening as yet," Beau said cordially. He would not so boldly reveal his interest in Clarissa, not with so many uncertainties. It would not do for word of his intent to get back to Clarissa, feeding a confidence he did not want her to feel. This matter of the Irish lands would be settled.
"Really?" Lindley said, his own irritation mounting and displaying itself on his face. "I wish you a pleasant evening, whatever your diversion."
"Thank you," Beau said. "And you as well."
Both men parted, one newly frustrated and one with renewed confidence. Beau was more than happy to pass his frustration regarding Clarissa off to Lindley, old friend though he was.
Chapter Three
She would wear the lavender silk tonight, and for jewels… Perry came in as she was deliberating.
"What do you think, Perry? The amethyst necklace or the pearl? I cannot decide," she said, turning in her chair, her hands holding each selection aloft.
"I prefer the amethyst. All that sparkle," he said, sitting down on a chair near her dressing table.
"Yes, so much easier to attract a husband when one 'sparkles,'" she said, laying down the pearl necklace and arranging the amethysts around her exposed throat.
Another evening to be spent shopping for a husband. She sighed and checked the arrangement of her hair in the mirror. It was so much more pleasurable shopping for books. She had been reading her new book on the Peloponnesian wars all afternoon, and now her eyes were stinging with fatigue, but she had to go out tonight.
Actually, reading about battle was the perfect preparation for facing a roomful of Englishmen. Especially Montwyn. Would he be there? She smiled at her reflection, her brown eyes dancing with confidence. Of course he would be there. The idea of battling with him was the only excitement she would have all evening, and she was almost counting on him to make her night at the Blakelys' worthwhile. She could entertain herself with him while looking elsewhere for a husband.
"You sparkle enough without the aid of any jewels, Clarissa," Perry said. "Montwyn seems fairly dazzled."
He did, actually, and she hid her smile of satisfaction in the drawing on of a glove.
"Did you see him today?" she asked casually.