An Unsuitable Match (3 page)

Clarice blinked. While she didn't know the older woman's name, it was obvious from the way she attacked David with her hand fan that he and the lady were more than mere acquaintances. She had seen enough in the years she had been in society to know something of the ways of the world. Strangers did not behave in such a manner toward one another.

‘Mrs Chaplin; her husband is rather senior in the Foreign Ministry,' her father said. She noted the decided tone of disapproval in his voice before nodding briefly in reply.

‘Just remember what I said: the likes of him are not for a lady of quality such as you. You deserve better,' he continued.

‘Yes, Papa,' she replied.

When Mrs Chaplin departed, Clarice felt an unaccustomed sense of relief. David had certainly shown no interest in the woman. To her, he had looked very uncomfortable. For herself, she was left struggling to understand her unexpected emotional response.

Had she just felt the first pangs of jealousy?

The earl tapped her on the arm and pointed toward Lord Strathmore, who was now striding toward them.

‘Langham, enjoying the evening?' the duke asked. The two men shook hands and exchanged a smile in yet another display of friendship for anyone who happened to be watching.

Clarice smiled at Lord Strathmore. Grateful that peace had been made between the two old friends, she was happy to play her part.

‘And Clarice, why aren't you dancing? I am sure there are many young men who would love to dance with you this evening,' the duke said.

She blushed, embarrassed by the attention. ‘I forgot to get a dance card,' she replied, failing to mention she had done so deliberately.

‘Well, that simply will not do,' he replied. The duke bowed and offered Clarice his hand. ‘May I?'

She gave her father a quick glance and met his approving nod.

‘Thank you, your Grace; I would be delighted,' she replied.

Taking the duke's arm, she accompanied him onto the dance floor. The strains of a waltz soon began.

‘Are you a devotee of the waltz, Lady Clarice?' the duke asked with a smile.

‘Yes, but I wouldn't say that it loves me,' she replied.

He laughed. ‘Trust me, I shall not let you fail at that which you love so dearly.'

It didn't take long, or a brilliant mind, to deduce Lucy's scheme once she and David began the waltz. As they completed the first turn, David spied Clarice across the dance floor. She was in the arms of his father, who was chatting amiably with her. Clarice smiled up at his father and gave a gentle laugh in response to his words.

At that exact moment, Lucy let out a whimper and David looked down to see a pained look appear on her face. She slowed her steps and he found himself having to shuffle his feet to avoid standing on her toes.

‘What's wrong?' he whispered.

‘Oh, my back. I have a terrible twinge,' Lucy replied. She let go of his arm and placed a hand in the small of her back.

‘Should we stop? I could escort you to one of the chairs along the wall if you like and you may take a rest there,' he replied.

Lucy gasped and, quickly taking hold of his hand, resumed the dance.

‘No, no, I shall be fine. One must soldier on at these sorts of events. Family expectations and all that.'

David looked down once more at his sister. Her sudden ailment did not seem to be having a detrimental effect on her movements; in fact if he was not mistaken, Lucy was leading him in the dance.

Slowly they edged closer to Clarice and their father. As Lucy skilfully sidestepped a couple of other guests, David began to smell a rat.

‘So you have recovered now, and the pain is gone?' he ventured.

She sighed mournfully and replied, ‘No.'

He stifled a snort.

They drew alongside the duke and Clarice, at which point Lucy stumbled and her father quickly released his hold of Clarice and caught his daughter.

‘Oh, Papa, thank you, you saved me!' she exclaimed, clutching his arm.

From the many plays to which he had been forced to escort Lucy over the years, David knew exactly where she had learnt her sense of melodrama.

The duke helped Lucy to regain her footing. ‘My poor girl, what on earth is wrong?'

She blinked her eyelids rapidly and fanned her face with her fingers. ‘I have no idea; I suddenly came over all faint.'

‘I thought you had hurt your back,' David replied. Lucy shot him a bullet-like glare.

‘My back probably brought on the dizzy spell,' she said.

David rolled his eyes and admitted defeat.

‘Well, whatever the cause of your ailment, you shall come with me. We shall seek out your mother. I am certain she will know what to do,' Lord Strathmore said, and put a comforting arm around his daughter.

‘Please excuse us, Clarice. David, would you take my place for the rest of the dance?'

As his father led Lucy away, David stood silently chuckling. He turned to Clarice and smiled. ‘She is good, my sister. I have to credit her that.'

Clarice turned her gaze from the retreating back of her former dance partner and looked at him.

‘So, here we are, Mr Radley. How do you propose we should continue?'

‘You know your father's edict; he will not permit us to dance together,' he replied as his smile disappeared.

She murmured softly, ‘Yes, and he is watching.' True to form, David's body hardened, as it did whenever he was close to her. ‘He and your father appear to have made amends, but I would not like to test his good humour by disobeying him,' Clarice continued. ‘He was in a stinking mood earlier, and I think his veneer of congeniality is stretched thin.'

They walked over to the far side of the ballroom, away from the dancers and her father. David felt like the wolf who had separated a sheep from the flock.

A sheep who swiftly turned into a lion.

‘I saw you talking to Mrs Chaplin earlier; is she a family friend?' Clarice asked, releasing her hand from his grasp.

An icy finger of premonition touched him on the shoulder. If Clarice had seen his exchange with Fiona Chaplin, how long would it take for her to discover the true nature of his relationship with the politician's wife?

He ground his teeth in frustration. He had been a fool to allow his former lover to throw herself at him so openly. Now that Clarice, and probably her father, had seen the exchange there was little he could do except lie.

He hated himself for it.

‘Yes, she is an old family friend. Unfortunately, she had partaken of the wine at dinner excessively and found the floor a touch slippery. I had to steady her on her feet.'

Even as he said the words, he could picture a shovel digging into the ground, making the hole he was standing in ever deeper.

‘Oh, poor thing. It was fortunate you were on hand to come to her aid. Twice this evening you have been a hero.'

Their gazes met and they silently stared at one another. There was nothing he could think of to say that would improve the situation.

‘Would you please take me back to my father?' Clarice said, as she finally broke her gaze.

She took hold of David's arm and they began the long walk back around the room to where Lord Langham waited.

David's evening was beginning a slow slide downward into failure. Clarice's face had shown only the merest flicker of emotion as he'd brazenly lied to her, but it was enough to know she didn't believe his tale. He sensed she could have stood and stared him down for a great deal longer.

‘Will you take supper with me?' he asked. Lucy had always told him food was a good, safe way to salvage a poorly handled conversation with a young lady. He glanced over at Clarice as she walked beside him and saw her shake her head.

‘Thank you, no; I see my friend Lady Susan Kirk has arrived and I must spend some time with her. I thank you for returning me from the dance floor, but I'm afraid I cannot keep you from mingling with the other guests any longer.'

Lord and Lady Kirk and their daughter were engaged in a pleasant exchange with Lord Langham when David finally brought Clarice around to the other side of the ballroom. He gave the required bow of respect to the Earl and Viscount, to which Lord Langham and Lord Kirk gave him a curt nod of the head. In normal circumstances, both men barely acknowledged his existence.

Devil take the pair of you.

David knew full well they had only acknowledged him because they were standing in the ballroom of Strathmore House.

As Clarice let go of his arm and took hold of Susan's hands in greeting, he saw Lady Susan give him her customary glare of disapproval.

‘You didn't dance with him?' Susan whispered to Clarice, but loudly enough for David to hear.

He smiled back at Susan, silently congratulating himself for not having taken the bait.

You think you are the first to snub me in public? I shall remember this moment when the best you can manage on the marriage mart is the sixth son of a penniless baron. Lord knows no man with any means would want to bind himself to such a shrew.

‘My sister hurt her back on the dance floor; I was simply ensuring Lady Clarice was returned safely to her father,' he replied, dampening down the anger that welled up inside him.

‘Ladies,' he said. He gave a deep bow to the women and left.

Sucking hard breaths into his lungs, he sought out the nearest footman he could find with a tray of drinks. He reached for a glass of whisky, but stopped when he saw his fist was still tightly clenched.

He waved the footman away. While his own evening had reached an unsatisfactory point, he was determined not to fall into the trap of throwing liquor down his throat. This was Alex and Millie's celebration; he would not spoil it for them by getting blind drunk.

His personal creed dictated that while drink was for merriment, a sober mind was required to control a burning rage. Taking one long look around the ballroom, full of the cream of London society, he quietly scolded himself. As a member of the host family, he was being remiss in his duties. There were stories to tell and laughs to be had. If Lord Langham and his friends were not interested in sharing his company, there were plenty of others present who were more than willing.

He spied his cousin Bartholomew, close by among a group of guests. With a bawdy jest ready on his lips, he headed for his prey.

‘I cannot believe you actually let him hold your hand,' Lady Susan sneered. The look of disgust on her face made Clarice's stomach turn. ‘If it were me, I would have left him standing on the dance floor. His kind deserves no better.'

Why Susan held David in such low regard, Clarice had never truly understood. At first she thought it was because he showed not the slightest bit of interest in Susan, but eventually she had concluded that being able to look down upon anyone made Susan feel superior.

She had hoped Lady Susan Kirk, the friend her father had foisted upon her, would not be in attendance this evening, but her luck had not held. With Lord Kirk rumoured to have lost a fortune in a recent bad investment, it was clear his daughter was set on securing the hand of the first suitable man who offered it to her. Large society gatherings were the perfect hunting ground for prospective spouses.

‘Mr Radley was simply being a gentleman; he stepped in when Lady Lucy came over all faint,' Clarice replied.

Susan raised an eyebrow.

From where Clarice stood in the heated crush of the enormous summer ballroom, she could just make out the familiar form of David as he worked his way around the room. At every group of guests, he would stop and make small talk, always leaving the other guests smiling.

The current cluster of guests, she observed, was standing with their eyes wide open as David held court. They all fell silent for an instant, before a loud whoop of laughter rose from the group, followed by an appreciative round of applause. David gave them a bow worthy of a stage performer.

‘Charmer,' she whispered.

‘Pardon?' Susan replied.

‘Nothing.'

Susan let out a loud tsk. ‘You really are a bit of a wet blanket this evening, Clarice, dear. Anyone would think you had other matters on your mind. I do worry sometimes as to what goes on in your head. Personally, I think it's because you read too many books.'

‘Hmm,' Clarice murmured, her gaze still firmly fixed on a certain dark-haired gentleman.

The beads of Susan's oversized reticule brushed against Clarice's arm. Clarice turned in surprise, but found Susan had suddenly and rather conveniently turned her head away.

Did she just hit me?

Clarice looked down at the ugly, heavily beaded bag, but decided against making any comment. Susan was never one for subtlety, whether in her dress or her manners.

‘Will you partake of supper with me?' she ventured. The last thing she needed was to put Susan in a bad mood. In keeping with the spirit of the evening, she would endeavour to keep the peace.

Susan looked back to Clarice and acknowledged her assent.

‘I still don't understand why you didn't press Lord Brooke into marrying you; he would have had little choice if you did. This evening could have been your wedding celebration, Clarice, and one day you would have been mistress of this house. You could have had all this,' Susan said with an expansive wave of her hand. ‘Instead you let him marry that foreign-born girl. For heaven's sake, Clarice, she has a ring in her nose!'

Clarice chanced one last look across the room to where David stood, before falling in step with Susan as they headed to the supper room.

‘You know full well why I didn't force him. Alex sent a love letter to the wrong girl; he shouldn't have to spend the rest of his life being punished for making such a mistake. He loves Millie and they are happy. I for one am more than content with the outcome,' Clarice replied.

At no point was she going to mention the fact that she now knew it had been David who wrote the letter for his prose-challenged brother. Nor that David had used Clarice as his muse.