"Montwyn, you mean?"
She gave him a cross look for his clumsy attempt to rile her.
Perry shrugged and said, "Sorry. Yes, actually. Jane and I bumped into him on our way to the milliner's. Jane let it be known that you were at Lackington's-ridiculous if you ask me, since we weren't talking of Lackington's at all-and off he went. You saw him there?"
"Yes," she said, standing and smoothing her skirt. "He was at Lackington's."
"He must be interested if he ran off there on just a word from Jane."
"Of course he's interested," Clarissa said with a smile of satisfaction.
"But you're not," Perry said, standing with her, his face serious. "I think Montwyn rather rude and certainly inordinately proud."
"Inordinately? Oh, I think him proud to an uncivil degree, but his pride may be well deserved," Clarissa reluctantly defended.
"I've seen Montwyn Hall," Perry said. "There's enough pride for ten heirs in the Montwyn title. But there's more to a man than his house."
"Of course. There are his lands," Clarissa said firmly. "A man must have good land, good Irish land."
"And naught else?" Perry asked. "You seem interested in Montwyn, with or without Irish lands."
"I am not interested," she said, searching for a fan.
At Perry's skeptical look, she said, "I am not. Have more faith in me, Perry. I have more sense than to choose such a man. He is too-" she shrugged-"bold a man. I am looking for a man who'll burrow quietly in London and leave me contentedly in Ireland. There is nothing quiet about Montwyn, and he would never be able to content me."
"I agree with you," Perry said, standing near her bedroom door. "I wish I could believe you. You do sparkle when he's near, Clarissa, and I know that look in you. More, I think Montwyn to be a man attracted to bright resistance. And you are just that."
"I fear I have not been complimented," she said.
"Smart girl," he said with a grin. "Sparkle all night, dear, for I will be at your elbow throughout the evening. Montwyn shall not have you to himself."
"Thank you for that, Perry," she said. "Now I must do the final touches to myself. I'll meet you downstairs."
Perry left, but he did not like the glitter in Clarissa's dark eyes whenever Montwyn's name was mentioned. And she had fairly glowed when she had learned that Montwyn had followed her to Lackington's. She was a sharp girl, quick in both thoughts and actions, but she might have come up against her match with Montwyn. He was a formidable man, experienced, proud, determined. It was an uncomfortable contemplation that Montwyn might have determined to have Clarissa.
Russell was just coming up to change for the evening as Perry was going down.
"You going with us?" Perry asked.
"Yes, I thought I would," Russell said, his tone more serious than usual.
Stabbing in the dark, Perry said, "You saw Montwyn today?"
Russell looked startled for a moment and then nodded, "I did. When I was with Clarissa at Lackington's. Odd the way they spoke to each other. Rude. But they seemed to like it."
Perry, only a year younger than Russell, nodded and then shook his head in worry.
"What do you make of him, Russell?"
Russell rested his hand on the banister and studied the ceiling plaster. "I've made discreet inquiries. He's a bit wild, or was until he came into his title. Gets out a bit. Travels. Has seen hard duty in his regiment, but Lindley could tell you more, since they met when they both wore the uniform. Not quite a regular man, they say. Harder. Prouder. Perhaps even fierce, in a quiet sort of way."
"Not the sort I'd choose for Clarissa," Perry said.
"Nor I," Russell agreed. "It's that wildness that concerns me. Doesn't do for a man to leave his wife at home while he carouses."
"But he's not married yet," Perry said, "and you know him from your own carousing."
"True." Russell grinned. "But would he want me to marry his sister, if he had one? Probably not."
"You've seen them together," Perry stated. "She's different with him."
"No, I don't agree. She's completely herself. Completely Clarissa."
"Exactly," Perry said. "Why? She hardly knows him. Why would she be so bold with him, unless she's drawn to him, feels something-"
"Not all bad to feel something for the man she might marry."
"Marry Montwyn? I don't think so. Steel against steel, the two of them. And I think he may be scaring off other suitors, leaving her with little choice but him."
"He's scaring off the suitors she's not scaring off herself?" Russell laughed.
Perry shrugged and said reluctantly, "Point taken. She is not showing her best to the London lads, as she calls them."
"Yet Montwyn-"
"Montwyn isn't put off by her manner at all," Perry finished.
Perry and Russell looked into each other's eyes in full comprehension-and with no comfort.
The evening's entertainment was a ball and it was lovely. The music, the candlelight, the colors of gowns and jewels and bouquets, were all lovely. Memorable. A sweet winter's night for a maid to cherish when she was old and fragile and lounging on her chaise in some cold and distant future. Clarissa knew it would be so. She would remember this night, this beautiful night of dancing and music, for years.
It was so sad that upon such an evening she was compelled to shop for an English husband.
Dalton had disappeared almost upon their arrival, Perry was whispering with the niece of their host quite a distance from her side, Russell was caught in what appeared to be a serious game of cards, and Lindley was at her side, his vigilance as constant as his advice.
"If you would only restrain your temper and be civil, you would make much headway," he said, not bothering to disguise his exasperation.
"I am always civil," Clarissa said, her eyes glittering more sharply than her jewels. "What I will not do is fawn over these English fops."
" You are English, as English as any in this-"
"What sort of children would I be forced to bear if married to that?" she said in a hiss, cutting him off. She used her fan to indicate Lord Darnell, as fat as always and in need of a hair trimming. "Has any one of you considered that?" Darnell was all jowl and bristle-revolting. "I could do little worse in the barnyard."
"And does the ram bring in twenty thousand pounds per annum?"
"He is no ram, Lindley," she said bluntly. "Would you bind me to a porker for even half that amount?" she rejoined angrily.
"Shall we speak of the kitchen mouse to whom I have pledged?" Lindley said in a growl, his eyes as fierce and as bright as hers.
"Miss Brookdale is no mouse!" Clarissa protested.
"With Ridgehaven in tow, no woman is a mouse," he said, calming himself. "At least it shall not be admitted aloud."
Clarissa felt guilt tugging at her heels and could not run fast enough to escape its touch. She was churlish. Everyone married for money and position; she was not the first, nor would she be the last. It was childish to be so contrary. Lindley had done his part for the family, and she could do no less.
"Is it the porker you have in mind for me?" she asked with a wry smile.
"Never." He smiled back, their argument over and done. "Do your own choosing. But choose."
"Very well," Clarissa said, taking a deep breath. "I shall. Tonight."
"There is no need for such haste. The clock does not tick so loudly as all that," he argued. Lindley never could enjoy a period of calm for more than a moment.
"I am not of a disposition to dawdle," she said, drawing herself up and surveying the room. "What matters one man over another when they are all so confoundedly English? A length of bleached linen is a length of linen, is it not? What possible reason for confusion or hesitation? I shall make my decision tonight and will have the goods delivered next week."