Rushed to the Altar (40 page)

“Sums. I was thinking we might send him to a dame school or something,” Clarissa responded vaguely. “He seems a sharp lad; a little education might help him get on in the world.”

Sally looked very doubtful, but it wasn’t her place to argue. She took the letter and hurried to find Sammy.

Chapter Twenty
 

Jasper entered Clarissa’s bedchamber just before ten o’clock that evening. She turned on her dresser stool as he came in. She felt that familiar lurch in her belly at the sight of him, a swift racing in her blood. He was wearing a coat of dusky red silk edged with his favorite silver lace. Lace frothed at his throat and wrists, and for once he wore his hair fashionably powdered and fastened in a queue at his neck with an engraved silver clasp. His eyes looked blacker than ever, but they held a deep glow of intensity as he subjected her to a frankly appreciative scrutiny.

“My lord, I didn’t realize you were here already.” She smiled, immensely relieved that she could detect none of his earlier anger. “How handsome you look.”

He tossed a parcel onto the bed. “Be so good as to unwrap that, Sally.” He swept Clarissa a flourishing bow. “You are too kind, ma’am. I can only hope I will make a worthy escort for such a beautiful lady.”

Clarissa laughed, screwing an enameled stud into her ear. “I am impervious to empty compliments, sir.”

“Oh, believe me, there’s nothing empty about them when made to you.” He came up behind her. “Don’t put those in. I have something else for you.” He laid a square box on the dresser. “Open it,” he prompted when she looked blankly between the box and then himself.

Clarissa lifted the lid. Her mouth opened on an O of wonderment. A pair of diamond studs nestled in the silken interior, with a diamond collar and a matching comb. She looked up at him. “What are these?”

“What do they look like?” He took out the collar and fastened it at her neck. The stones winked and flashed against her pale throat. “Fasten the studs.”

She did not immediately comply, holding them on her palm. “They’re so beautiful . . . so delicate. Whom do they belong to?”

“They will belong to my wife. They are traditionally the property of the Countess of Blackwater, passed on her death to the wife of the eldest son.”

“I don’t think I can wear them.” Clarissa looked up at him, shaking her head. “Indeed, Jasper, it doesn’t feel right.”

“It is quite right, and you will wear them.” He spoke firmly, taking the comb and inserting it in the plaited crown of her hair. “Fasten the studs now, I would see how they suit you.”

Slowly she screwed them in place and gazed at her reflection in awe. The diamonds were magnificent stones, blue light seeming to pour from their depths. “What will people think?”

“Exactly what they’re supposed to think.” He turned to Sally, who had been observing the proceedings in wide-eyed silence. “Will you place the comb, Sally? I don’t think I have it quite right.”

“Yes, m’lord.” Sally held the comb reverently. Nothing like this had ever adorned the head of her previous mistress. She inserted it with deft fingers, twisting clustered ringlets around her fingers to encourage them to curl more tightly. “Beautiful, madam,” she breathed. “They could have been made for you.”

Clarissa wondered if finally she had stepped way out of her depth. Her mother’s jewelry collection contained some fine pieces, but none as magnificent as this set. She was accustomed to wearing the simplest of adornments herself, hence the enameled ear studs, and now she felt like a usurper.

“Stand up and let me look at you properly.”

She did so, turning slowly to face him. Her gown was of gold tissue over a petticoat of celestial blue damask. The elbow-length sleeves ended in wide lace ruffles. The blue of the damask brought blue light dancing in the facets of the diamond collar, which in turn drew the eye to the ivory swell of her breasts over the low décolletage.

“It seems a pity to conceal such enchantment,” Jasper murmured. “But a masquerade is a masquerade. Bring the domino here, Sally. Amazingly I chose the perfect color.”

The domino was a rich blue silk fastened with pale blue ribbons down the front. The mask was dark blue
velvet, concealing the upper part of her face. “How exotic,” Clarissa murmured, forgetting her discomfort over the diamonds as she looked at her image. “What color is your domino?”

“Black, of course.” He gestured to the garment on the bed. “Black as night. But the mask is gold.” He laughed at her expression. “I can enter into the spirit of these games as well as anyone, my dear. Come, shall we go?” He offered her his arm.

His carriage was downstairs, furnished as always with the comforting fur lap rugs and hot bricks. Ranelagh Gardens was a little out of London in the village of Chelsea and Clarissa felt an ordinary excitement at the prospect of the evening ahead. It was such a normal emotion it took her aback. She hadn’t had an ordinary response to anything in months it seemed. But she felt just as Clarissa Astley would have done on her way to her first masquerade in the magical wonderland of Ranelagh Gardens. Except that Clarissa Astley would not have been decked out in a king’s ransom of diamonds.

It was a chilly night, but braziers lined the gravel paths leading to the Rotunda and the Chinese pavilion. Lamps spilling golden light were strung between the trees, illuminating the scene in a soft glow. Light blazed from the buildings, from the supper boxes warmed by braziers overlooking the gardens and fountains. Masked people strolled the pathways in many-colored dominos, like a garden of butterflies, Clarissa thought, entranced. Strains of music filled the air. She looked at Jasper and
saw that he was watching her expression with a strange look in his eye.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, except that your pleasure gives me pleasure.”

She yearned to stop, to touch his face, to kiss his eyelids, to hold his body close. She yearned to tell him how she truly felt, how she loved him with every fiber of her being. For a moment there was a hesitation in his step, as if he sensed her need, as if he was waiting for something, and then when she said nothing, did nothing, he continued down the path, her arm firmly held in his.

“Where are your friends? You said you would be making up a party.” It was not the question she wanted to ask. The words seemed as dull and leaden as a shovel of mud. But it was all she could trust herself to say.

“They’ll be waiting for us in one of the boxes, where I have ordered supper. I hope it pleases you. Vauxhall is famous for its wafer-thin slices of ham, but at Ranelagh we have breast of pigeon in truffle sauce.” His voice was light and inconsequential, as if that instant of intensity had never happened.

Clarissa was aware of a sense of loss, but that moment couldn’t be repeated, and she told herself it was better this way, but she couldn’t quite convince herself. They entered the Rotunda. The huge circular space was warmed by fireplaces, lit by thousands of candles, and the domino-clad butterflies circled to the music of the orchestra on a high dais.

“Do you care to dance, ma’am?” He offered his hand. The orchestra was playing a country dance and Clarissa’s toes were already tapping.

She took his hand and he led her into the dance. Clarissa had loved to dance since she was a small child and for the half hour of this country dance she lost herself completely. All the terrors, the anxieties, the dreadful knowledge of her deception, the dreadful acknowledgment that that continued deception would eventually deprive her of the one thing that would ensure her happiness, faded into the background. Jasper was a worthy partner, light on his feet, sure of his steps, and he knew what every good partner knew, that his task was simply to enable his lady to show herself at her best.

When the music died Clarissa took a moment to catch her breath, fanning herself. “Thank you, it’s been a long time since I’ve danced like that.”

Jasper wondered how long it would take her to realize what she had said, what she had revealed. He tried to tell himself that her guard kept slipping because trust was simply seeping in, like the first trickle of water through a pinhole in a Dutch dike. If he was patient, soon it would swamp the low ground and her defenses would finally crumble. Unless, of course, that was pure wishful thinking, which, knowing this woman as he was beginning to, struck him as not unlikely.

He pushed the grim reflection aside. “Shall we go to the supper box now? I think you will enjoy the company. I have invited my brothers, and several others
whom you’ve met. You may not have met all the ladies, but I think you will find them congenial.”

The supper box was warmed with a brazier, serviced by liveried footmen, and entertained by a small group of musicians. Three couples were seated at the round table, sipping champagne; Jasper’s two brothers strolled up just as Jasper and Clarissa entered the box.

“Well met, Mistress Ordway.” Sebastian bowed. “It is I, Sebastian . . . should you not recognize me in this disguise.”

“Mask and domino or not, I would recognize you as either yourself or your brother,” she said with a smile. “So, as usual, sir, I am grateful for the early identification.” She turned to his companion with a curtsy. “Good evening, sir. The Honorable Peregrine, I presume.”

Peregrine for a moment said nothing, his gaze fixed upon the diamonds sparkling in the candlelight. Then he recovered, bowed over her hand. “Just so, Mistress Ordway.”

Clarissa curtsied and murmured greetings to the rest of the assembled company, and they sat down for supper. She found herself between the twins. “So, have you set the date, Miss Ordway?” Peregrine asked.

“I don’t understand. What date?” Once again she was back in the world that governed her. She tried a smile over her wineglass.

“You happen to be wearing the Blackwater diamonds,” Sebastian said with a lazy grin. “And damme, how they suit you. Could have been made for you.
Thing is, Jasper wouldn’t have given ’em to you if he didn’t intend to pop the question.”

She took a sip of wine and considered her answer. These two weren’t supposed to know that she knew all there was to know and was a willing participant. It would be simpler if she could just admit it and they could enjoy each other’s company without all this subterfuge. But Jasper had decreed secrecy, so secrecy it would be.

“Your brother has not made me an offer, gentlemen. Or perhaps I should say, he has not made me an offer of marriage.” She smiled at them both. “It probably pleased him to set tongues wagging with the diamonds. You know how much he enjoys a game . . . they will be returned to the vault in the morning, I’m sure.”

“He does enjoy playing people for fools,” Peregrine said doubtfully. He met his twin’s quelling eye and fell silent. It would seem that Jasper had not progressed as far as they’d thought with turning his whore into a wife.

“I think we should dispense with this formality,” Sebastian announced, lifting his glass in a toast. “You’re in some part family, so I intend to call you Clarissa. You shall call me Seb . . . or Sebastian if you insist. And on your other side is Perry . . . or Peregrine if you insist.”

“It will be my pleasure, Sebastian.” Clarissa lifted her own glass. “Peregrine.” She drank to the man on her other side.

Jasper was a little surprised to find how much it pleased him to see the way his brothers and Clarissa seemed to enjoy each other. He hadn’t thought he cared much one
way or the other about his brothers’ opinions of his own life, but now it seemed that he did. His younger brothers were important to him, their well-being something he had always looked out for as a simple matter of fact and family.

On the death of their father he’d somehow assumed in their eyes the role of protector and authority on all matters of importance. Their mother had been their nominal guardian but, always ailing, had had little or nothing to do with the day-to-day upbringing of her sons. Jasper managed to haul himself to adulthood, but he nurtured his brothers and ensured they had as near to a normal boyhood as was possible.

They’d followed him to Harrow when he was in his final year there and he’d made sure they were protected from much of the gratuitous violence that was unilaterally doled out to the young newcomers. He’d had to fight his own battles, and for the most part had won them, and he now used that dominion within the strict and brutal hierarchy to cloak his brothers until they were good and ready to look after themselves.

They’d responded by according him absolute loyalty, respect, and an affection he knew he could not endure to see diminished.

“We should go to the Rotunda for the midnight unmasking,” the Honorable Percy Sutton declared as fireworks began to light up the sky. He reached for his mask, which, like the others, he had discarded as they sat down to supper.

“Allow me.” Jasper tied Clarissa’s mask for her before tying his own. “Are you ready for the grand finale, my dear?”

She nodded, rising to her feet. “Indeed, sir, I’m eager for it.” The group spilled out of the box and onto the gravel walk leading to the Rotunda. Fireworks exploded around them, brightly colored lights whirling, swirling, dancing, then falling from the sky.