Love Is Blind Part 3

"Ah, well, you can simply tell her you had to attend to personal needs, and had to find a powder room," he suggested.

"My lord!" Clarissa gasped, taken aback that he would mention such things so bluntly. It simply wasn't done. She could hear the grimace in his voice as he made his apologies.

"I am sorry, but I was simply trying to- d.a.m.n, someone is coming."

Clarissa forgot his breach of manners, her heart tripping with anxiety as he stilled. "Who is it?"

"I do not know, but I can hear ... Come." Tugging her to the side, Adrian slid into the bushes, taking her with him. When he paused, she paused as well, some instinct warning her to be quiet as they waited.

It was no more than a moment before two figures came into view, approaching from the direction they'd been headed. Unfortunately, rather than walk by, as Clarissa had hoped, the pair chose that spot to stop and embrace.

"Oh, Henry!" the woman murmured.

"Hazel," came a quavery little voice that made Clarissa frown. She was positive it was the voice of Lord Prudhomme.

'You do not truly mean to marry that wretched girl?" the woman said suddenly. "What of us? What of our grand pa.s.sion?"

"I love you, Hazel," the quavery voice came again. "And I shall do so until I die, but I must have an heir. Mother is quite insistent on that point."

Clarissa grimaced. It was Prudhomme; she was sure now, as she had met his mother. Lady Prudhomme was a rather horrible old lady. The woman must be at least a hundred years old. Still, she was a frightening harridan for all that, and Clarissa could not blame Prudhomme for his terror of her.

'Yes, but-"

"Shh, my love," Prudhomme hushed. "Just let me hold you and pretend that the dreams I have each night are true. That you are mine and that all this sneaking about is unnecessary."

There was the rustle of silk and a brief moment of silence in which Clarissa imagined the couple to be embracing; then she heard a suspicious sound rather like lip smacking or sucking. Squinting, she tried to peer through the bushes, but all she could see were the smears of what appeared to be a woman in a light-colored dress and the slender dark form of a man. They were very close together. Very close indeed. Their faces looked to be one large blur beneath two seemingly connected fuzzy white wigs.

They were kissing! Clarissa realized it with dismay, and she wondered what Lord Achard would think of that. For she had recognized who the woman was the moment Prudhomme addressed her as Hazel. Lady Hazel Achard was a member of her stepmother's circle-one who was quite often sharp and cold in her att.i.tude to Clarissa. Now Clarissa understood why. The woman was jealous of Prudhomme's courts.h.i.+p of her.

"Oh, Henry, make love to me," Lady Achard gasped suddenly.

"But we just did, my sweet," Prudhomme protested. "I am only a man. I cannot perform again so soon, but must recover from the pa.s.sion you instill in me."

"Oh." There was a long, drawn-out sigh of disappointment, then: "Were we married-"

'Yes, were we married I could hold you in my arms every night, just as I am now," Prudhomme proclaimed softly. Then he cursed and said, "d.a.m.n your husband for his good health!"

Yes, d.a.m.n him," Lady Achard agreed. "I wish he would-"

"Shh," Prudhomme interrupted. But Clarissa suspected Lady Achard hoped for the early demise of her poor, unfortunate husband.

"What?" the woman asked, sounding anxious.

"I think I hear someone coming."

The couple broke apart, and none too soon, as an- other woman came around the path. She stopped in apparent surprise at the sight of them. "Why, Lord Prudhomme. Lady Achard."

Recognizing the voice of Lady Alice Havard, another of her stepmother's friends, Clarissa tried to shrink a little smaller in the bushes.

"Lady Havard," the amorous twosome murmured innocently, as if they had not been in a pa.s.sionate embrace just moments before.

"Out for a breath of fresh air, Alice?" Lady Achard asked, sounding suspicious.

"Yes. I fear 'tis rather stuffy inside," Lady Havard replied. Then, sounding smug; "In fact, I was just saying so to Lord Achard but a moment ago."

"Arthur is here?" There was no missing the alarm in Hazel Achard's voice. "But he said he was not feeling up to attending tonight."

"Hmmm. He appears to have changed his mind." Lady Havard sounded immensely satisfied. "He asked me if I knew where you were, and I told him I thought you had gone to the table to dine."

"Oh." There was some hesitation, and then the blur that was Lady Achard turned to Prudhomme. "Thank you so much, my lord. 'Twas most kind of you to take time out to show me your garden. I shall return inside now, I think." She hesitated a moment, then asked a bit archly, "Will you accompany me, Lady Havard?"

"No. I think I should like to see Lord Prudhomme's new fountain. You did mention that your mother had purchased one, Henry?"

'Yes, yes," Prudhomme said at once. "Be glad to show it to you."

"Well... I shall be away then," Lady Achard said with obvious reluctance, and her blurred form moved off.

Sure that Prudhomme and Lady Havard would follow, and that she and Adrian could then slip from the trees and go back to the party, Clarissa nearly sighed her relief aloud. However, she was mistaken. The moment Lady Achard was gone, Lady Havard turned on Prudhomme, her voice sharp with jealousy as she asked, "What did she want?"

"Lady Achard claimed she needed a breath of fresh air and asked me to show her the new additions to the gardens, so I did," Prudhomme said innocently. Clarissa rolled her eyes. Goodness, the man was a masterful liar!

"Oh." Lady Havard sounded relieved, but blurted, "When I saw the two of you slip out here, I drought-"

"Hush, my love." The small dark blur that was Prudhomme drew the teal blur of Lady Havard into his arms. "You know there is no other woman for me, I love you, Alice, and I shall do so until I die."

'Yes, Henry." The woman sighed as he kissed a trail down her throat. "It is just that I am so jealous of late."

"There is nothing to be jealous of, my sweet."

Clarissa squinted harder and edged farther forward as Prudhomme leaned back enough to tug some of the teal blur downward. Good Lord! She realized with shock that the man had just bared Lady Havard's b.r.e.a.s.t.s right there in the garden. At least, that was what Clarissa a.s.sumed those blurred blobs were, which Prudhomme proceeded to squeeze and press with loud smacking kisses.

Lady Havard gasped, then grabbed a handful of his wig and tugged his face away from her bosom. "What of that girl?"

"Clarissa Crambray?" Prudhomme's scorn was obvious. "A mere child. What does she know of a pa.s.sion such as ours?"

"You do still love me then?" she begged.

"Of course," he a.s.sured her.

Their blurs blended once more as he offered a moment's rea.s.surance: "I dream of you. I awake with your name on my lips, and imagine that you are mine and that all this sneaking about is unnecessary."

Clarissa rolled her eyes again. Apparently the man did a lot of dreaming-though where he found the time she couldn't say, if he was carrying on with both of these ladies.

"Oh, Henry!" Lady Havard gasped. "Would that I were yours and we could hold each other like this every night."

'Yes," Prudhomme agreed. "d.a.m.n your husband for his good health."

Clarissa almost snorted aloud at this familiar refrain, but managed to catch it back.

"Now let me enjoy you for the few moments I do have you." Prudhomme continued, and with that his dark blur suddenly dropped to kneel, then seemed to disappear beneath Lady Havard's skirts.

"Oh, Henry." Lady Havard's shape leaned back against the tree. "Oh, Lord Prudhomme. Oh, oh, oh ..."

Clarissa stared in amazement, then unthinkingly opened her mouth to ask, "What the deuce is he-"

Mowbray clapped his hand over her mouth at once, dragging her backward through the bushes.

Grabbing at his arm to keep her balance as they moved, Clarissa glanced at the blur that was Prudhomme and Lady Havard. She really, really wished she had her spectacles. Clarissa had no idea what the man was doing under the woman's skirt, but the moans Lady Havard was emitting seemed to suggest it was pretty amazing. Then Clarissa was dragged out of the bushes on the other side of the path. Adrian allowed her to turn to face forward, then hustled her quickly away.

"What on earth was he doing?" she asked when he drew her to a halt in another small clearing.

Mowbray glanced sharply at her, and she thought he actually blushed, but then she decided she must be mistaken. He finally said, "I shall explain to you someday, my lady. But just now is not the time."

"Why not?" she asked curiously.

"Because you are far too innocent to understand such things. Because you would be embarra.s.sed beyond belief in your innocence. Because ... because just now I do believe we should return you to the ball," the earl finished, sounding relieved to think of it.

"Oh, but we did not get the chance to dance," Clarissa protested. It did seem that, if she was going to be in trouble anyway, she should at least get to dance first.

"Another time," Adrian promised, offering a gentle smile surely meant to soften the blow.

Clarissa was disappointed, but she allowed him to lead her back toward the noise, music, and lights of the ballroom. "I fear there may not be another time, my lord. Lydia has been doing her best to avoid anyplace you might be. We came here tonight only because she did not think you would bother to attend Prudhomme's ball."

"So that is why I have not been able to find you this week," Adrian muttered, then admitted dryly, "Your stepmother was right. Normally I would not have attended this ball."

"Then why did you come?" Clarissa held her breath, unsure why until she heard his answer.

"Because I knew Prudhomme was considered a suitor, and because I therefore suspected you would come," he admitted.

"Truly?" she asked.

'Yes. Truly."

Clarissa thought Adrian might be smiling too, but she couldn't be sure. Then he smoothed his thumb along her eyes, urging her to stop her squinting as he said, "I, too, quite enjoyed our discourse at the De Morriseys' ball and have looked forward to seeing you again ever since."

"Oh." She tingled with pleasure and sighed. "I wish that..."

"What do you wish?" Adrian asked.

Clarissa shrugged unhappily. "I simply wish that Lydia did not feel such antipathy toward you."

He was silent as they walked up the path toward the laughter of the ballroom, then paused to turn her toward him. "Perhaps there is a way to work around that."

"A way?" Clarissa asked with a mixture of curiosity and hope.

"Yes." Adrian peered at her in silence, and then she saw him nod decisively. His fingers tightened on her arm. "Clarissa, should my cousin come to call in the next few days and offer to take you out riding, try to talk your stepmother into allowing it."

"Your cousin?" she asked uncertainly.

"Reginald Greville," Adrian said. "I shall ask him to collect you for me. Your stepmother shall approve. He will bring you out, and I shall meet with the two of you at the park."

Clarissa frowned. She recognized the name Greville. "I do not think it is very likely he will agree to come collect me, my lord. I fear I have already made his acquaintance."

Adrian chuckled softly. "He told me of your encounter."

"He did?" she asked with dismay. Clarissa hadn't realized it at the time, but Lydia had told her later that she had scalded the man when she'd mistaken his lap for a table and set her tea upon it. She'd rather hoped Adrian hadn't heard about that story. It was humiliating. But then, most of her time in London had been similar.

'Yes, he did. But never fear; I have explained your situation to Reginald. He will be most pleased to help us out."

"Mayhap," Clarissa murmured doubtfully; then she bit her lip and glanced toward the blur that was his face. "He is not a rakeh.e.l.l, is he?" When Adrian went still, Clarissa rushed on. "Because, you see, that is why Lydia is resistant to you. She said that you were a rakeh.e.l.l when you were last at court. Though I am sure she is wrong. But if he is a rakeh.e.l.l as well..."

Adrian was silent and stiff for so long, Clarissa began to fear Reginald was a rakeh.e.l.l, but then Adrian relaxed suddenly. "It will be all right."

Clarissa bit her lip, wanting to believe him, but finding it hard to accept that something so wonderful could happen in her life. She had experienced very little joy in the last ten years. First there had been her mother's illness, and then that terrible debacle with Captain Fielding... And then Clarissa's mother had died and, while she was still grieving, her father had married the horrid Lydia. Life had been h.e.l.l in the country, with her stepmother reminding her of her shame every chance she got. The woman was constantly remarking that Clarissa had hurried her mother to her grave with the shameful scandal she'd landed the whole family in.

Clarissa knew Lydia resented and blamed her for the fact that her father avoided London. Unfortunately, Lydia was right. Lord Crambray had avoided the city in the hope that the scandal would eventually be forgotten and that his daughter could yet make a good match. Lydia hated Clarissa for having missed out on several seasons in London, and made little secret of the fact that she couldn't wait to be rid of her.

Yes, Clarissa suspected that resentment and hate were the real reasons behind Lydia's insistence that she not wear her spectacles. She suspected the woman was secretly enjoying every humiliating calamity, especially because her stepmother could then use each accident as an excuse to berate and punish her. And if Lydia had her way, Clarissa would be tied to the hateful Prudhomme for the rest of her life ... or his. Lydia probably knew exactly how horrid the little man was. Clarissa had noted for quite a while that die two acted friendlier than was warranted given their circ.u.mstances, and now she wondered if Prudhomme hadn't proclaimed his undying love to her stepmother a time or two as well and d.a.m.ned Clarissa's father's good health. It wouldn't have surprised her.

"Clarissa? Is that you?"

The sound of Lydia's voice snapping at her through the darkness nearly made her groan. But as she opened her mouth to say good-bye to Mowbray while she had the chance, Adrian shushed her, and his blur seemed to melt into the woods along the path.

"She has not yet seen me. Do not mention me, and simply claim you came out for a breath of fresh air."

'AD right," Clarissa whispered, trying not to move her lips as she did.

"And do not forget about my cousin, Reginald Greville. He will come for you tomorrow."

"Clarissa! It is you!"

She sighed to herself as her stepmother approached. Whether she claimed she'd come out for air or to escape a raging fire in the house, Clarissa would be in for a lecture, but she would rather it happened away from Adrian.

Whispering good night under her breath to him, she hurried forward to cut Lydia off.

Adrian waited until the two women had disappeared inside the house before slipping out of the underbrush. He didn't bother reentering the house himself, but used the path along the side of the manor to make his way to the front and arrange for his carriage to be brought. Once inside the vehicle, he instructed his driver to take him to one of the more disreputable gaming h.e.l.ls in town, knowing he would find Reginald there. They had both frequented such establishments when younger, but Adrian had lost his taste for such frivolous pastimes after his service in the army. Reginald, who had avoided battle, had not.

As he expected, he found his cousin at the tables, and smiled wryly at the man's shock.

"Devil take it, Adrian!" Reginald gasped, having turned at the tap on his shoulder. "I thought I should never see you back here. You have shunned such entertainments since returning from the war."

"I have been in the country most of that time," Adrian reminded him. It wasn't worth stating his true feelings on the matter. To start a request for help by insulting a pastime the man enjoyed would be a mistake.

"Well, here, have a seat; join us!" Reginald smiled widely, apparently pleased to have back his old partner in bawdier delights.

Adrian hesitated, then took a seat, unwilling to blurt out what he wanted right there at the table, yet knowing that dragging Reginald from his pleasures was hardly likely to win the man's aid. Resigning himself to several hours in the smoky, desperate environment, he ignored the stares at his scar and mentally prepared all the arguments he would use to convince his cousin once the two got away from the gaming h.e.l.l. He was going to have to be crafty.

"You must be mad!" Reginald exclaimed two hours later.