Never Surrender to a Scoundrel (10 page)

Clarissa did as she felt proper and remained by her new husband's side. Even so, Mr. Blackmer made no real effort to speak to her, but brooded out the window while she sat in a nearby chair. No further mention had been made of any honeymoon or an immediate departure. She'd been too afraid to even mention the subject, for fear he would repeat his earlier intention. She hoped the mention of their leaving London together, as man and wife, had only been part of the farce he'd been putting on for Quinn.

Because…leave? With him? She didn't even know him. Even though she'd taken vows, she didn't feel like anyone's wife, most especially not the stone-faced stranger at the window.

As if he heard her thoughts, Mr. Blackmer pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket and, after glancing at its face, quietly said, “The day's getting on. You'll want to say your good-byes now.”

 
“Now?” she answered, stunned. She stood and joined him at the window. “I haven't packed my things. I'll need time to plan and prepare.”

He answered in the same even tone. “Your maid, Miss Randolph, has been very helpful in that regard. Everything has been secured onto the carriage.”

Her pulse increased. “You had my things packed, without telling me?”

One dark brow lifted higher than the other. “I'm telling you now.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my home,” he answered distantly.

“To your London house?” she inquired hopefully. That would just be across town, and she could still see her family as often as she liked.

His jaw twitched, and heat flared in his eyes. “I don't have a house anymore. If you will recall, until last night, I'd intended to take my leave of London. I relinquished the lease. The house has been closed up.”

Just feet away, her family talked amongst themselves, with only her sisters glancing toward them from time to time.

“I see,” she said, anxiety bunching into a tight ball between her shoulders. “Are we going to take a house elsewhere?”

He did look at her now with fire in his eyes. “Clarissa. I have been relieved of my livelihood and have no suitable means of supporting you. That leaves me with little choice but to return, with you, to my family home, where after a time I hope more suitable arrangements can be made.”

Her cheeks burned. He didn't blame her for anything. Not with words. But his eyes did.

“Where does your family live?” she asked quietly.

He scowled. “In Northumbria.”

Northumbria. That was so far away. She'd never even traveled that far north. There it would always be cloudy and cold, just like Mr. Blackmer's eyes.

“Why don't we just stay here, at least for the time being? There's plenty of room, even if you wished to have your own quarters.” Yes, he could have his own quarters, and she would have hers, and they could get to know one another over time and perhaps even grow to like each other.

Not that she didn't like him. But things had been so tense, and she had the distinct feeling he did not like her very much at all. Not anymore. How could she blame him?

“That arrangement will not suffice,” he said, his speech clipped.

“But why?” she whispered, not wishing to alert her family to what very well might be their first quarrel. Still, she felt desperate to change his mind. She reached for his hands. “Why the need to rush away?”

In a sudden move he caught her by the wrists instead. Not roughly. Gently, actually, with his palms and fingers just grazing her skin, almost as if he was reluctant to touch her, wary of getting too close. Yet his dark eyes peered down at her, in that moment completely unguarded. She knew in that moment that, while things might be difficult between them, she would never have cause to fear him.

She stared back, unafraid. “Tell me.”

He answered in clipped syllables. “Because I refuse to remain under this roof where I am believed by all to be a villain. A seducer and conniver. I have been unfairly maligned and condemned, and there is nothing I can do or say in defense of myself. Please know I
like
your family. I
admire
them, one and all. Do you realize how difficult this is for me to be here, under these circumstances?”

He released her and stepped back, his gaze no less intense.

“Dominick, I'm sorry,” she said, opening her palms to him. “I don't know how else to say it.”

Dominick flinched, hearing her speak his given name for the first time, with such emotion in her voice. No matter how angry he was, it wasn't his intention to hurt or punish her.

“I don't want to hear that you're sorry,” he said. “I know that you are. At the same time, please understand I have lost everything.”

“Because of me.”

“Yes, because of you,” he muttered. “But I don't despise you for it. I know you didn't intend any of this.”

She nodded, her hands coming together in front of her bodice. “We're married now—there's no turning back from it. But perhaps my grandfather was wrong for insisting that we keep everything a secret.” She glanced across the room at her family, who were doing their best not to be obvious about being riveted to their heated discussion. “Let me tell them the truth about what you've sacrificed for me. I beg you. My conscience demands it.”

He stared into her blue eyes. Dear, foolish girl. He knew her intentions were pure, but how little she understood of a man's honor and his pride when it came to his offspring and the legacy he would one day leave behind.

 “Wolverton wasn't wrong,” he answered. “He understands, more than anyone, the power of blood. I don't have much control over this situation, but I shall exert control in this. I won't have the child…” He closed his eyes. “
Our
child ever doubting his or her place in the world, nor anyone else challenging their legitimacy.”

He did not know this girl he had married. Not well enough to bare his soul to her and tell her that early in his marriage to Tryphena, after months of trying for a baby, a physician had told them she was most likely barren, although by all accounts her health was absolutely perfect. A second physician and then a third professed the same opinion, although strangely they too deemed his wife as being in possession of all the necessary qualities of a fertile woman.

He'd known then the deficiency was somehow his, and he'd seen in Tryphena's eyes that she knew it too, though no doctor would ever dare say it because women, it seemed, were always to blame in such matters, something Dominick found ludicrous. As if the male body were never defective or infertile. In another life, perhaps he would have been a scientist and proved it.

Whatever the truth, the news had crushed them both, him feeling cursed and her devastated to learn she'd likely never be a mother. It was then they'd first begun to grow apart.

He had not wanted to marry Clarissa, but what was done was done. The one blessing he could see in the whole miserable situation was that in a matter of months he would be a father, when he'd long given up hope of ever experiencing that joy. He would have the honor of being there from the child's birth, to its first step and its first spoken word. He would be more of a father than his own had ever been, and like a lion he would protect what belonged to him from any threat of harm.

“Thank you for caring about the baby so much.” She nodded, pale and blinking. “I consider myself fortunate to have married you. I admire you for what you've done.”

“Well, don't,” he muttered. “Not yet. I'm still too bloody furious about this whole situation to be considered anything close to admirable. I have no choice but to remain the villain, seducer, and conniver they believe me to be—and I will do so.” The hard look returned to his eyes. “Just don't expect me to stay here.”

“I understand.” She nodded—and though she trembled with emotion, she offered him a brave smile, which he appreciated more than he could convey at present. “I shall inform everyone that we will be departing shortly.”

C
larissa approached her family. “Mr. Blackmer and I will be departing soon.”

Her mother's eyes widened. “Soon, when?”

“Soon as in now,” Clarissa said, forcing a smile. “I shall have the honor of meeting Mr. Blackmer's family. I must go upstairs and change for travel.”

“We must leave posthaste to arrive by nightfall at a suitable inn,” Blackmer said in a clear voice. “We will travel to my family home in Northumbria.”

“So far?” her mother said, her eyes shining with sudden tears. “Why not just stay here tonight and leave in the morning?”

Clarissa's emotions shattered to pieces. There had already been too many tears today.

“It's all right, Mother,” she answered. “Truly, I'm ready.”

But she wasn't. She'd never passed a single night away from her family and had never really thought about how it would feel to leave them. She'd just assumed that when she married, she'd be deliriously happy and in love and there would be no sadness.

Her mother nodded and, coming closer, pressed a hand to her cheek. “You will need warmer clothes. It's been a cold summer, and will be much colder in Northumbria.”

Sophia added, “It will take hours to pack.”

“Again, why not delay your departure until tomorrow?” Daphne suggested with cheerful enthusiasm, as if there could be no other answer but hers.

“I'm afraid that's not possible,” said Blackmer from where he stood by the window, holding himself removed from the rest of them.

“Ladies, you must respect Mr. Blackmer's decision,” Claxton said quietly. “And Clarissa's.”

Her wishes. She avoided meeting their eyes, because she feared if she did, they'd all see the truth, that she didn't want to leave.

“Miss Randolph has already packed my belongings,” Clarissa announced. “I'll just hurry upstairs and change.”

“We'll come with you,” said Daphne, tugging at Sophia's arm. Their mother followed. They all three looked over their shoulders at Mr. Blackmer pleadingly, clearly hopeful he would change his mind.

Yet he moved toward the door. “I shall see to the carriage.”

He'd already seen to the carriage. Clarissa suspected he simply couldn't bear to remain in the drawing room with Claxton and Raikes and Mr. Birch.

A half hour later, she stood by her grandfather's bedside, with Mr. Blackmer beside her, his expression grim.

“Grandfather, Mr. Blackmer and I are leaving.” Her throat closed as a deep sadness rose up from inside. She'd done so well until now, managing not to cry. But he looked so frail, and she couldn't help but feel responsible and fear she might never see him again. “I'm going to meet his family.”

The earl's eyes remained closed and his breathing ragged. She rested her hand on his chest and bent down to press a kiss to his cheek.

His hand covered hers, and he murmured, “Good girl…Mr. Blackmer…is a fine man, who will be a good husband…and father to my grandchild. You will see. Everything will be…all right.”

“What did he say?” asked Lady Margaretta in a soft voice.

Clarissa lifted her grandfather's hand and kissed the knuckles. “He wishes Mr. Blackmer and me well. Thank you, Grandfather,” she whispered. “I'll see you again very soon.”

Mr. Blackmer's hand touched her elbow, and he gently drew her away as her vision blurred. All of a sudden she found herself in the arbor of his strong arm, crying into his chest, which was more comforting than she'd expected. He smelled very nice. Clean and masculine, like soap and leather.

Outdoors, he left her side and proceeded toward the street. A brisk wind met them, and a blanket of clouds in the sky. Having changed into a cambric dress and simple pelisse of cerulean blue, more suitable for travel, Clarissa dabbed a handkerchief at her eyes. Her mother and sisters did the same, while Claxton and Mr. Birch looked on solemnly. Raikes had gone to the nursery and fetched little Michael from his nap, who, seeing the ladies' tears—oh, the darling boy—took to crying as well. Clarissa squeezed the boy around his small shoulders and gave him a kiss.

“Aunt Clarissa will miss you so much.”

She turned and moved from one family member to the next, embracing and kissing them all. “Well, it seems this is good-bye, for now. Not forever, of course.” After one final glance to them all, Mr. Blackmer, with a hand to her elbow, helped her up the steps.

Miss Randolph, her lady's maid, already waited inside, dressed in staid traveling clothes. An older woman, with dark hair, now streaked with gray, she looked at Clarissa as she entered and smiled her usual pleasant smile.

Miss Randolph took her profession seriously. Clarissa had never once heard her complain. True to form, the older woman appeared completely content with their present situation, giving no outward hint of what she might be feeling inside. Unlike the close bond shared by Daphne and her lady's maid, Kate, Clarissa and Miss Randolph were not in the practice of confiding in one another or chatting about every little thing. This, at Miss Randolph's quiet insistence. Indeed, the woman already held a book in her hand and a finger holding her place on the page, as if she were already immersed.

Mr. Blackmer reached inside and stowed Clarissa's valise under the seat, then crouched to enter. He lowered his tall, long-legged frame to the center of the bench across from them. Here, in such closed confines, he looked larger and more imposing than before.

Wolverton's footman removed the steps and latched the door, and at once the wheels began to turn. Clarissa peered out the window, waving as the faces of her loved ones grew distant. Mr. Blackmer, tellingly, looked out of the opposite window.

The carriage turned the corner and, despite straining, she could see her family no more. Not even the house she had called home for so many years. She closed her eyes and, with a gloved hand, smothered the sob of anguish that bubbled up from inside her chest. Never before had she felt as alone as in this moment.

She rested her hand on her stomach and remembered the child she carried, and knew she must get used to the idea she wasn't alone at all. Knowing there would be a baby soon to love and care for made everything feel better. She only hoped Mr. Blackmer would allow her, as his wife, to take care of him too. That they could eventually talk to one another and enjoy each other's company.

“Well,” Clarissa hiccupped, and attempted to smile through tears. “Just three…or will it be four days, and we'll arrive at your family home. I assume they will be surprised to learn you have wed?”

She could only assume he hadn't written them. There'd been no time.

“Four days. Yes.” He brooded, his gaze fixed on the scene passing by outside the window. “They will indeed be surprised.”

Silenced filled the carriage. Again, she attempted conversation. “How long today until we arrive at the inn?”

His jaw twitched, and he looked toward the corner of the carriage. “I'm sorry, I—I—”

To her surprise, he reached for the bell pull. Wrapping his gloved hand around the cord, he yanked. The carriage slowed and altered direction, and after a moment came to a stop.

“I apologize,” he murmured. “I think I'd prefer to ride up top. I'll leave the two of you to your conversation.”

He moved as if to exit the door. She reached for his wrist, and he froze.

“Oh!” Miss Randolph exclaimed softly, her eyes wide with surprise. She looked between them, as if shocked by the dramatic moment unfolding in front of her, before looking pointedly away.

“Don't go, Mr. Blackmer,” Clarissa whispered, so that only he could hear. “I want you to stay.”

“I'm sorry,” he answered, but not unkindly. Indeed, though his gaze did not meet hers, he rested his gloved hand atop hers and briefly squeezed. “But I cannot do
this
. Not now. Not yet.”

She nodded, releasing him. “As you wish.”

Then he was gone, and she left staring at the closed door, her ears filled with silence. A moment later, the carriage jerked to one side as he climbed atop to join the driver. Then the carriage started and continued on.

Embarrassed, Clarissa glanced at Miss Randolph, who stared fixedly into the pages of her book, but after moment, her gaze fluttered up and she smiled.

“Gentleman,” Miss Randolph said in a reassuring tone. “Try as we might to contain them, they always prefer the outdoors.”

“Indeed,” she said, somewhat soothed by the woman's calm tone.

“It's very nice that you'll be able to meet Mr. Blackmer's family,” said Miss Randolph.

“I'm looking forward to doing so.” It was the polite thing to say.

Another smile, and Miss Randolph returned to her book.

Clarissa sagged against the seat, thinking it might be nice to indulge in a good, thorough cry right now. Only she wouldn't. She would not succumb to histrionics. She wasn't a child anymore. She dabbed her eyes one last time, then thrust her soggy kerchief into her reticule. Yes, she was done with all that. Every young woman, at some time or another, had to leave her family. Her situation could certainly be worse. She shouldn't have believed all the romantic nonsense in the ladies' magazines and novels anyway.

“What are you reading, Miss Randolph?” she inquired softly, needing to talk about something that didn't have to do with her or Mr. Blackmer.

Miss Randolph looked at her a long time, taking note, she knew, of her red eyes and stained cheeks. If they were at home, she knew her maid would immediately set about pressing a cool compress that smelled of chamomile to her skin. But there was no chamomile here.

At last she answered. “It's a manual for servants. I've read it several times before, but it never hurts to refresh oneself on the finer points.”

Clarissa nodded, thinking such reading material didn't sound very interesting. But for the first time she realized that's what made Miss Randolph so pleasant to have around. She behaved with such unerring dignity and always put forth her best effort. Nothing ever got her down. What a wonderful example. One she needed to strive toward herself.

 “I'm so very glad you're here with me, Miss Randolph,” she said, feeling the need to voice her appreciation, because she felt very certain she'd taken Miss Randolph for granted until now. “If I can't have Mother or my sisters, at least I can have you.”

The woman's expression softened. “That's very kind of you to say.”

They smiled at one another, and after a moment, Miss Randolph went back to her book.

Sighing, Clarissa realized silence wasn't such a terrible thing. She forced herself to relax. She wondered what Mr. Blackmer's family was like and where the couple would live once they arrived. If she had gauged Mr. Blackmer's demeanor correctly, the prospect of returning to his family in Northumbria did not please him. Why? she wondered. Had there been some sort of disagreement in the past, or was it just that he regretted being forced to leave the secret service?

She resolved in that moment that whatever situation awaited them, she wouldn't complain. There was a little baby to look forward to, and as long as her new husband did not overly begrudge her or the child, the future would not be so terrible.

Across the carriage from her, Miss Randolph turned the page of her book.

A book would take her mind off things. She bent and opened her valise, and instead chose a notebook and pencil and settled into the corner. Her breathing slowed, and she opened the volume to the first page and wrote:

All fine names for a baby. But nothing that struck her as perfect just yet.

“That's a smart girl,” Miss Randolph murmured, her tone quiet and comforting. “Just you wait and see. Everything will be fine.”

 “Wake up, Mrs. Blackmer. We have arrived at the inn.”

Mrs. Blackmer? Who was Mrs. Blackmer?

Oh, yes.
She
was Mrs. Blackmer.

Clarissa burrowed further into the cushion, trying to disappear into sleep again.

But a gentle shake to the shoulders awakened her, and she sat up, her vision unfocused from sleep. The inside of the carriage was dim. She could barely make out Miss Randolph beside her.

With a swipe, she brushed away the hair plastered against her cheek, but the dream still lingered in her mind…

A handsome mouth
—

Hot kisses
.

Her eyes flew open in sudden realization. She'd dreamed of Mr. Blackmer kissing her. Touching her lips, she remembered the moment he'd kissed her after their wedding, as Quinn looked on in shock. She blushed, feeling a rush of excitement as strong as when the kiss had actually happened.

How…unexpected.

“Your eyes are open, my dear, but I'm not certain you're awake,” said Miss Randolph, offering an open tin of rose-and-ginger pastilles. She felt quite certain Miss Randolph had never called her “my dear” before, and the endearment pleased her. Clarissa selected one and placed the lozenge in her mouth, appreciating the sweet-hot flavor that exploded on her tongue, awakening her a degree more.

Her lady's maid lowered Clarissa's straw bonnet onto her head, then tied its wide grosgrain bow to one side of her charge's chin, which, as they'd observed in
La Belle Assemblée
ladies' magazine, seemed to be the most flattering compliment to a round-shape face. Normally Clarissa would tend to such personal matters herself, but after such a difficult day she appreciated the tender care.

She lifted the curtain from the window beside her and saw a sturdy two-story structure, with light glowing from its windows. A sudden question came to mind. Were she and Mr. Blackmer going to sleep together?