An Unsuitable Match (7 page)

‘Please tell me you do not plan to show this to my son? He does not need to know that she tried to kill him before birth,' Caroline said.

Ewan could see the fierce determination in her countenance. She might not have given birth to David, but having raised him from a babe, she considered him her flesh and blood. Caroline was David's mother, and the good Lord have mercy on those who questioned it.

‘No, I would never do that to him. I have kept the existence of that letter a secret for nearly twenty-six years, and I intend to take its contents to the grave.'

‘As do I,' Caroline replied.

‘Today is an important moment in his life. A major step forward for him. It pains me to think this letter could reach out and hurt him.' He glanced at the fireplace and the golden flames that licked at the logs in the grate. ‘I don't know why I keep it.'

Caroline looked up at her husband. ‘Neither do I.' And with one deft flick of her wrist, the crumpled letter flew from her hand and landed in the fire. It burst into a bright ball of flame.

The Duke and Duchess of Strathmore stood and watched as the inferno ate the bitter words of regret and recrimination, turning them to ash.

Ewan put his arms around his wife once more and placed a tender kiss on Caroline's forehead.

‘Thank you. I should have done that years ago. I know she was your sister, but I will not have her destroy my son from beyond the grave,' he said.

‘Our son,' Caroline replied.

Clarice stood in front of her bedroom mirror and pursed her lips.

The high neckline of her midnight-blue gown rose almost to her throat. Laying a tentative hand to the bodice of her dress, she felt the slight bulge of the freshly wrapped bindings underneath.

Her maid was humming a happy tune as she knelt and busied herself with ensuring Clarice's hem was straight.

‘Did you like the gown Lady Lucy wore to the wedding ball, Milady? Lady Susan's maid said that she was the prettiest of all the unmarried ladies there that night. Such a pity I didn't get to see it,' Bella said, coming to her feet.

When she caught Clarice's reflection from within the mirror she blushed.

‘Well, of course Lady Lucy has not been in mourning. I am sure when the time comes you will look as fetching as she does. Begging your pardon, Lady Clarice,' she stammered.

Clarice smiled and reached out her hand. Taking hold of Bella's wrist she gave it a gentle squeeze.

‘No need for apologies, Bella. I did like Lady Lucy's gown; it was the softest pale blue I think I have ever seen, and the lace edging on the cuff was exquisite. It was a shame you were not well enough to come. I know you love to see the ladies' fashions.'

Bella sucked in a breath and Clarice waited for her to speak. The expectant silence was broken by a small sob. Clarice looked in the mirror and saw her maid blinking back tears.

‘Would you fetch my pearl earrings, Bella? We must not keep Lady Alice waiting?' Clarice said, managing a smile.

She knew that for such a dedicated student of fashion as Bella, it was particularly cruel to serve a mistress who dressed as she did.

A short time later she met Lady Alice downstairs.

‘Is that gown black or blue?' the dowager asked, squinting through her glasses as she inspected Clarice's gown. She pinched her lips together in obvious disappointment at the way her granddaughter was dressed.

‘So what performance are we attending this evening?' Clarice asked, once she and Lady Alice were inside the carriage and on their way. Clarice loved the opera.

The dowager shifted in her seat and, after rummaging around in her reticule, pulled out a piece of paper. She unfolded it and held it up to the coach light.

‘Some chap named Lee,' she said.

‘That's not very Italian-sounding,' Clarice replied.

Lady Alice snorted. ‘Well, that would be because he is English. We are going to see the English Opera perform a production of
Artaxerxes
at the Theatre Royal. Thankfully Lord and Lady Strathmore chose an opera in English. I am prepared to endure a night at the opera, so long as I can understand what they are singing.'

She handed the playbill to Clarice.

‘I well remember when your mother dragged your father and me to see that Italian virago Catalani at the King's Theatre. Midway through the whole mess I was ready to throw myself over the balcony of the box. Obviously Clarice, you didn't inherit your love of opera from your father's side of the family.'

Clarice nodded. Tonight was the first full opera she had attended in a long time and no matter what language it was performed in, she was excited.

She also knew how important this evening was to her father. He had been offered another olive branch by the Radley family and she was determined to do him proud.

She was still waiting for the right moment to raise the matter of Lord Brooke and his so-called riding accident.

Inside the main entrance of the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane there was a stifling crush of people. Obviously there were many other opera lovers with the same disinclination as her grandmother to sit through an evening of Italian arias.

They soon met up with the Duke and Duchess of Strathmore and were escorted to their private box. Lady Alice hobbled to her seat and ordered champagne from the attendant.

The curtain of the box opened and Alex and Millie appeared. Clarice rose from her seat and greeted them.

Millie wore a scarlet cape over her matching silk gown, a ruby nose ring completing the ensemble. Her evening attire was breathtaking, but it was her eyes that caught Clarice's attention. They shone brilliantly with happiness.

‘I'm so glad you were able to come tonight, Clarice,' Millie said. She gave her a friendly hug. Clarice laughed when she heard Millie gasp.

‘Look how big this theatre is, and look at those gas lamps near the stage! I'm so excited to be here tonight. This is the very first time I have been to a real opera. We had nothing like this in Calcutta,' Millie exclaimed.

‘Well then, Lady Brooke, I think you are in for a treat,' Clarice replied with a grin.

From what she knew of the new Marchioness of Brooke, she sensed a kindred spirit. Millie was an intelligent and passionate woman. The perfect candidate to convert to opera.

The box curtains opened once more and Lucy stepped inside. Behind her, handing tickets to the attendant, was David. Millie gave them a wave.

Clarice's breath caught in her throat at this unexpected turn of events.

What is he doing here?

If there was one thing she knew David and her father did have in common, it was a vehement dislike of opera.

‘Sorry we are late; Emma asked me to read her another chapter of her storybook,' David said.

Lucy laughed. ‘Emma so loves it when her big handsome brother reads to her. You are her hero because she now knows the princess escaped the fiery dragon.'

He smiled. ‘One can never leave a damsel in distress.' His gaze fell on Clarice and his easy smile disappeared. He stepped forward and gave her a solemn bow.

‘Lady Clarice, what a pleasure it is to see you this evening.'

She forced a social smile to her lips and offered him her gloved hand.

‘Mr Radley, I'm surprised to see you here. I was certain that the opera was not to your liking. What could be so compelling as to draw you here tonight? Don't tell me you have a secret love of ancient Greek history.'

‘I knew you would be here, Lady Clarice, and that was all the reason I needed,' he replied, placing a kiss on her fingertips.

Rattled by his response and his forward manner, she quickly withdrew her hand.

The string section of the orchestra began to tune their instruments and the gathered guests took their seats. Whether by design or not, the only empty seat remaining after Lucy sat next to Lady Alice was the one next to Clarice. She shot a quizzical look at Lucy, who in turn grinned back as David took the unoccupied seat. She gritted her teeth, annoyed that her plans for an enjoyable evening at the opera had been press-ganged into Cupid's service.

‘I hear this Lee chap is rather good. At least I will be able to understand him when he is bellowing his lungs out on the stage,' David said.

Lady Alice, seated on the other side of Clarice, chuckled.

‘Quite right, Mr Radley, though I do find a couple of glasses of champagne does help to take the edge off the sopranos when they assault one's ears.'

Inside her slippers Clarice curled up her toes and prayed for the stage curtains to open. Once the opera began, all would be quiet within the box.

By the end of the first aria, she was beginning to feel less than charitable toward her grandmother. When Lady Alice wasn't picking at her fingernails, she was complaining of being too cold. Finally, the dowager countess rose from her seat, snatched up her walking stick and disappeared from the box.

To his credit, David remained silent throughout the performance. At one point, late in the first act, Clarice ventured a look across to him. His gaze was fixed firmly on the stage and his lips were silently moving. She stared at him. Was he actually singing the words? He turned and met her gaze.

‘He is rather good,' he whispered, pointing to the lead tenor.

She nodded. When David turned his head back in the direction of the stage, she scowled. Straightening her back, Clarice sat high in her chair and focused her attention once more on the music. After he had lied to her at the ball, she was convinced he was simply saying all the things he thought she would wish to hear. If David thought he could manipulate her in such a cavalier fashion, she intended to set him straight.

At the end of the first act, the singers left the stage and the majority of the patrons filed out of the box to socialise. Having politely declined Lucy's invitation to accompany her and Millie to the ladies' retiring rooms, Clarice remained behind. She stood staring at the empty stage. Aside from the annoying and inexplicable behaviour of some of her fellow patrons, she was having a wonderful time.

‘Aren't you joining the other ladies?' a deep male voice murmured behind her.

She shook her head and continued to make a thorough study of the scenery at the edge of the stage. If she ignored David, perhaps he would have the good sense to leave her alone.

‘Refreshments should be here shortly. Would you like me to fetch you something?' he added.

‘Thank you, I shall wait until your parents return. His Grace said he would seek out my grandmother and ensure she is back in time for the second act,' she replied.

When he reached out his hand and touched her elbow, she flinched. A frisson of heat sparked in her brain and Clarice felt her breasts tighten in their bindings. She shuddered as David spoke and the slightest of warm breaths blew on to her neck.

‘Clarice, may I speak with you?'

He came and stood beside her, looking out over the edge of the box. Groups of other opera guests were clustered around the stalls, laughing and sharing supper boxes.

‘Yes,' she replied, knowing that to say otherwise would be socially unacceptable. She was a guest of his family.

‘I think you might have witnessed some unpleasantness at my brother's wedding ball, for which I must give a truthful explanation.'

‘Go on,' she replied.

He fell silent beside her, leading Clarice to look at him.

‘In the past, I have not always behaved in an appropriate manner when it comes to the fairer sex. The outcome of that poor behaviour was the rather unfortunate exchange you witnessed between Mrs Chaplin and myself. For that I apologise.'

The curtain of the box opened, and two attendants brought in trays laden with all manner of supper delights. They set them down on a nearby table. David motioned toward the food.

‘Shall we?' he said.

Clarice shook her head. ‘I don't think you are anywhere near finished, do you, Mr Radley?' she replied.

Explaining away matters as one would to a child had her blood at the edge of boiling. He was going to get one chance to explain himself, and one chance only.

‘I see,' he said.

David Radley was blessed with an intelligent mind, and she was certain he didn't require further clarification from her. She steeled herself for the truth, knowing he would not dare to furnish her with another lie.

‘As a gentleman I will not go into the details of my relationship with Mrs Chaplin; suffice to say what I did was wrong and I deeply regret it. I also regret any pain that I may have inadvertently caused you. It was never my intent to hurt you, Clarice.'

‘And what of your other lady friends?' she replied, pressing the advantage.

He frowned.

‘There are no others and nor will there be in the future. Since I wrote that letter, I have pledged myself to you. Only you.'

She closed her eyes and put a finger to her lips. To hear him actually speak the words was heartbreaking.

‘Papa will never allow us to be together,' she whispered.

More guests had begun to wander back into the box and gather at the supper table. Their moment of privacy was quickly coming to an end.

‘I know the road ahead will be difficult, but if we are united in our purpose we shall succeed,' he replied. She felt the heat from his gaze burn into her as he searched her face for a sign that she agreed.

‘I don't know, David, I really don't know. I am unsure of so many things.'

‘Do you believe me?' he replied.

She pulled in a sudden breath. ‘Yes, I do.'

‘Then we have made progress.' He took hold of her hand. ‘Pity about the gloves,' he whispered. He placed a delicate kiss on the end of each of Clarice's fingers. One by one, he gave every digit intimate attention.

Unlike during their earlier greeting, she now stood enraptured by his display of unashamed affection. Heat began to pulse through her body, finally appearing as a blush on her cheeks.

Oh my good Lord, what was that?

‘David,' she whispered.

‘Hmm,' he replied.

‘Your family.'

She withdrew her hand and he straightened as the rest of the Radley family and Lady Alice returned to the box.

‘They had better have some decent Scotch eggs,' Lady Alice gruffly remarked.

The Duke of Strathmore had hold of her arm and gently aided the dowager countess to her chair.

‘Let me see what the supper table has for you, Alice,' the Duchess of Strathmore offered.

Clarice smiled as the duke and duchess shared a conspiratorial grin. Lady Alice was playing the invalid guest role to the hilt and they all appeared to be enjoying the game.

Alex, Millie and Lucy joined Clarice and David at the front of the box.

‘May I get you an orgeat, lemonade or champagne, Clarice?' Alex asked.

Lucy huffed and answered for her. ‘Champagne, of course; we are at the opera. And thank you, dear brother; Millie and I shall have a glass.'

Alex hurried over to the supper table and returned leading the attendant, who carried a tray laden with champagne glasses. David took two glasses and handed one to Clarice.

As she took a sip of the delicious bubbles, Clarice could see Lucy and Millie exchange a hopeful look with David. He in turn screwed up his nose. Was there anyone in his family he was not prepared to enlist to further his cause?

‘Clarice, my dear, do come and sit with your poor old grandmamma,' Lady Alice announced.