Love Is Blind Page 11

  "My legs are a little shaky," she admitted with embarrassment. "Just give me a moment."

  "Oh." He hesitated, then scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the window.

  "What are we doing?" Clarissa asked.

  "The door is hot. The fire's right outside. We shall have to go out the window."

  "Oh, dear," Clarissa breathed as he set her on her feet by the window and leaned to peer out. She wasn't the most coordinated person at the best of times. Even with her spectacles, she had proven slightly clumsy. The idea of trying to climb out of a window half-blind was not an attractive one.

  'You will be fine. I shall help you," Adrian said reassuringly, then swung one leg out die window and straddled die ledge. She saw him reach out; then his lower body suddenly slid off the ledge and out of sight. Clarissa stepped up to the window and peered out.

  The good news was that she couldn't see how high up she was. Clarissa hated heights. The bad news was, she couldn't see anything. Then she felt Adrian touch her.

  "Take my hand. I shall help you."

  "Okay." Clarissa took a deep breath. Grasping his hand, she held on tightly and settled sideways on the ledge, trying to straddle it as he had but finding her nightgown hampered the exercise.

  After an embarrassed hesitation, Clarissa reminded herself that he'd already seen what was under the thing, and yanked it up to her thighs to manage the maneuver. She then turned to try to see Adrian, and was actually able to make out his frame. It helped that his shirt was snow white, whereas the sky and surrounding trees were dark.

  "Just swing out to me and I shall pull you onto the branch." Adrian's voice was calm and reassuring, and Clarissa forced herself to concentrate on that and ignore her fears.

  She swung her other leg over the ledge, then took a breath, tightened her hold on his hand and pushed herself forward. For one heart-stopping moment she swung in midair; then Adrian yanked on her, pulling her to him, and she grunted as she slammed into the branch he sat on. Clarissa started to slide downward, and for a second she thought she'd fall anyway, but then his grip tightened and Adrian pulled her against his side. She hung there next to him, her body crushed between the tree branch and his side, and nothing under her feet but air.

  Adrian hesitated, then said, "I am going to lower you to the ground."

  "I would rather you not," Clarissa murmured, clutching at his arm. "Can you not just raise me up?"

  "Yes, but the ground is easier, Clarissa. We are not that high. Besides, if I did pull you up, we would just have to climb down. This way I can lower you to the ground and then drop down beside you."

  Clarissa bit her lip and twisted her head to peer down at the yawning black blur below. 'You are sure it is not far?"

  "I swear it is not. Your bedchamber is only on the second floor, Clarissa. This branch is just a bit lower than that, and once I stretch you down, your feet should almost be touching the ground."

  "Oh." She sighed. "All right then, but please do not drop me."

  Rather than lower her, Adrian suddenly lifted her a bit more, just enough that he could press a kiss to her cheek. "I will not drop you; you are far too precious to me."

  Before she could react to his words, he shifted one hand to clasp hers, then leaned to the side and began to lower her. Clarissa clung to his hand and closed her eyes, sure she was too heavy and that he would drop her.

  'You are just above the ground now, love. Let go and drop."

  "Do I have to?" she asked unhappily, and heard his strained laugh.

  "I am afraid so." That strain in his voice finally made up her mind. Taking her courage in hand, Clarissa released her hold. Adrian released her as well, and she started to fall, but a start was all she got before she landed with a jolt. She couldn't have fallen more than a couple of feet, if that.

  "Oh," Clarissa breathed with relief.

  "She's here!"

  Relief fled as quickly as it had descended at that faint call. Clarissa whirled toward the sound of the voice, and thought she saw the figure of one of the footmen at the corner of the house. Biting her lip, she glanced up to see Adrian dangling overhead.

  "Umm, Adrian," she said, trying not to speak too loudly but wanting to be heard over the snapping and crackling of branches overhead and the soft curses he was uttering as he tried to untangle his shirt from where it was caught.

  "Just a minute, love. I shall be right with you." He grunted.

  Clarissa glanced back toward the footman to see that he was hurrying toward her. . . and around the corner behind him came the whole household. And behind them came half the residents of the other town houses on the block. All of them were rushing forward en masse to see if she was all right.

  Clarissa stared at the blurred faces as they approached, hardly aware of the murmurs of relief they were uttering. Then Adrian dropped to his feet before her, blocking them from view.

  "There, you see? That was not so bad, was it?" he asked, slipping his arms around her and bending to press a kiss to her lips.

  "Lord Mowbray!"

  Adrian stiffened, straightened slowly, then turned to face the mob. Clarissa saw him look her way, and was suddenly aware of a chill. Glancing down, she saw that the top of her gown was still undone and now gaping open, baring a good deal of her flesh to the crowd. Biting her lip, she pulled it closed. Adrian looked down and recalled his own half-dressed state.

  Clarissa had just realized how compromising a situation they were in when Adrian straightened his shoulders and said, "Lady Crambray, may 1 ask for your stepdaughter's hand in marriage?"

  Chapter Nine

  Clarissa chewed her toast and avoided looking at Lydia. She could not see the woman's expression anyway, not without some spectacles, but she could actually feel the woman's glare every time her head turned.

  Her stepmother was furious, and had been ever since the night of die fire. She hadn't said anything, not even after the flames had been put out and they'd been allowed to return to their beds. Fortunately, the fire had started in the hall near Clarissa's room, and while it had blocked anyone from getting to her from inside the house to warn her, it had destroyed only that end of the hall and her own room, and the rest of the house was fine except for two of the servants' rooms and the salon under her, which had sustained some water damage. Yes, the rest of the house was perfectly fine except for a bit of smoke damage.

  Clarissa was now residing in a guest room. She was also terribly short of gowns until hers could be replaced, though two or three had been scrounged up for her to wear in the meantime.

  Directly after proposing that night, Adrian had suggested Clarissa and her stepmother stay at his mother's home while the town house was repaired, but Lydia had refused with an icy disdain that made it clear she would not be moved on the matter. She had been treating Adrian coldly ever since. He bore it, and both he and Clarissa did their best to ignore her silence and glares when he came to visit. There was little else to be done.

  The worst part of it all was that Lydia had not left them alone since that night. Clarissa had no idea why. The banns had been read, the wedding was set for two weeks to the day after the fire, and all was in order. The woman should be happy. After all, she'd landed her stepdaughter an earl. But it was obvious that she wasn't happy.

  Clarissa sighed and took another bite of toast, her thoughts running over the same worries and fears that had filled her mind since the night of the fire. Part of her was happy at the prospect of marrying Adrian. Certainly he was preferable to Prudhomme, and she liked him. Then there was the fact that the marriage bed would be far from a trial, if the things Adrian had done to her in her bedroom were any indication.

  In fact, Clarissa thought she could be very happy married to Adrian ... if their relationship had run a normal course and he'd proposed of his own accord rather than circumstances forcing him to do so in order to save her honor. She feared it was something he might come to resent later. Clarissa didn't want her own happiness at his expense. She'd rather
suffer through scandal alone than do that. She'd survived it before, and could again.

  In fact, that was what Clarissa had expected when she saw all those people coming upon them and realized they'd been caught. Adrian's asking for her hand had stunned her as much as it seemed to infuriate Lydia.

  The door to the dining room opened, and Clarissa glanced around, then paused, squinting to try to see better. She saw a tall shape with silver hair that wasn't a wig.

  "Father?" she asked uncertainly. "Hello, Clary," John Crambray called. She was immediately enveloped in the scent of saddle oil and the smoke from his pipe tobacco as he hugged her close. "What are you doing here?" Clarissa asked with amazement.

  He straightened. "Did you think I would not come see my little girl married?" he chided. "As soon as I received Lydia's message, I headed for London."

  Clarissa's gaze shot in Lydia's direction. Her stepmother hadn't mentioned writing.

  "I brought some of your clothes from home," John Crambray added. "Your stepmother's note said yours were ruined before they could put the fire out." Clarissa nodded. 'Yes, Daddy. Thank you." "We shall have to get some new ones made for balls and such; most of what you left behind weren't fancy." He paused, eyes narrowing. "Where are your spectacles, Clary?"

  "Clarissa broke them," Lydia lied smoothly. "I sent a message home to have her spare set sent to town so that she could see whom she is marrying, but I sent it after the first message I sent, so it may not have arrived until after you left."

  Clarissa gave a start at this news. Her stepmother hadn't mentioned this, either; but judging from her

  tone of voice, Lydia considered it a spiteful act and not a kindness to arrange for her to regain her spectacles. Clarissa couldn't for the life of her understand why.

  "Well, accidents do happen," her father said, drawing Clarissa's attention back his way. Then he announced, "I am very happy for you, daughter. I have always liked Mowbray. He's a good man."

  Clarissa noted the way that Lydia stiffened, but she was more concerned with her own surprise. 'You know Adrian?"

  Yes, of course I do. His father and I were good friends, mostly through correspondence since your mother died. Adrian's father was an excellent businessman. He could wring profits out of any rocky outcropping. We were always writing back and forth about our properties. When he retired and Adrian took over, I began to correspond with the son instead."

  "I did not know that," Clarissa murmured. "There is no reason you should. I did not bring up our correspondence with you. I doubt it came up in conversation with him either," John Crambray remarked easily.

  "Oh." Clarissa stole a glance at Lydia as her father took a seat at the table. Her stepmother's expression was grim, and as a servant rushed forward with a cup of tea for her father, he nodded a thank-you.

  It was then that Clarissa realized her father never showed affection to her stepmother, and while he had greeted his daughter with a hug, he hadn't greeted Lydia at all. It occurred to her then that her father never did, and she wondered about the two of them and what sort of relationship they had. Perhaps there was a reason for the lady's bitterness and even her anger,

  and perhaps it really wasn't anything to do with Clarissa at all.

  "Why do you not show her the gallery?"

  Adrian blinked at the suggestion from John Crambray, then smiled wryly at getting caught staring at Clarissa while speaking to her father.

  "Go on," the man suggested. "The two of you remind me of her mother and myself when we were your age. Each of you is constantly following the other with your eyes, always aware of where the other is." He smiled reminiscently, then sighed. "I miss her still."

  Adrian raised an eyebrow. "What about... ?"

  "Lydia?" Lord Crambray sighed wearily. "She was a mistake. I thought Clarissa needed a mother to help her into womanhood, especially after the scandal. I also did not want the burden of the household falling on her shoulders when she was so young. I wanted a marriage of convenience. I knew I would never love another woman like I did my Margaret." He shook his head. "I thought Lydia understood that. She said she understood. But in the end, she did not understand at all. Lydia thought that I was still just grieving, that I would eventually get over it and come to love her as she felt I should. When she realized that wouldn't happen .. ." He shrugged, his gaze finding his daughter.

  "Clarissa is her mother's child. She looks like her and is the living embodiment of Maggie ... who--in Lydia's mind--is her rival for my affections."

  "I see," Adrian said quietly. It explained a lot of Lydia's behavior.

  "I am glad to see you and Clarissa found each other. I think you shall be as happy together as her mother and I were. Now, go show her the gallery," Lord Crambray repeated. He added, "I would suggest a walk in the garden, where you would have more privacy, but 'tis raining, so the gallery is the best I can offer."

  "Thank you." Adrian nodded and crossed the room to collect his soon-to-be bride. She was sitting with his mother, his cousin Mary, and Lydia, and for the first time since Adrian had met her, Clarissa looked as if she was enjoying herself at a ball. In fact, she looked happy. She was chatting away with his mother and Mary. This time it was Lydia who looked unhappy. Her demeanor was sullen and miserable. If it weren't for how unhappy she constantly worked to make Clarissa, Adrian would have felt sorry for her.

  It was the first ball either of them had attended since the fire. Lydia had refused to allow Clarissa to attend any without her, and had refused to attend herself, claiming she couldn't bear the scandal. Now, with John's arrival, everything had changed. He'd insisted they come out tonight, and had insisted Adrian accompany them, having him ride over in their carriage. Lord Crambray was making a point of including him in their family. "Adrian?"

  He smiled at the certainty in Clarissa's voice as she looked up at him. Despite her inability to see, Clarissa always seemed to recognize him.

  'Yes," he said, then added, 'Your father suggested I show you the gallery."

  Lydia appeared as if she were about to protest, but closed her mouth with a sigh. She could hardly override her husband, though she looked like she wanted to.

  Beaming widely, Clarissa took the hand he offered and got to her feet, then walked with him out of the ballroom. "I did not realize you and Father were good

  friends," she murmured as they started up the hall toward the gallery.

  "Well, we are not the best of friends or anything, but

  we do correspond several times a year. He's a nice man."

  "I like him," Clarissa agreed lightly--then gave a

  grin that showed that her feelings for her father went

  far beyond liking.

  Adrian smiled and admitted, "Actually, I did not realize he was your father. I mean, I did not connect you to die John Crambray I correspond with." He gave a laugh. "He has invited me to your home several times over the last couple of years. If I had realized he had you for a daughter, I would have accepted."

  Clarissa was smiling at this comment as they entered the gallery and Adrian was so enchanted watching her that he didn't see the woman in his path until he crashed into her. "Lord Mowbray."

  Adrian glanced down sharply, his mouth tightening as he saw whom he'd run into: Lady Blanche Johnson. His gaze slid warily over her ice-blond hair and lush body. Adrian hadn't seen her for ten years, and would have been happy to go another fifty without the privilege. This woman had hurt him more than all of the cringing and fainting and overheard insults he'd suffered during his last visit to court ten years ago put together. She was a viper. Only, this woman had not turned from his scarred face. She alone had smiled and cooed and flirted and welcomed his touch.... It wasn't until she'd lured him back to her home and seduced him that he'd learned why. As they lay, still sweaty and panting, the lady had laughed with exhilaration and announced that she'd always found freaks exciting, and that she had the best sex with them.

  Adrian had lain frozen on the floor of her boudoir, where their pas
sions had overtaken them, his stomach churning as she'd told him of some of her other lovers. It seemed a dwarf and a hunchback had been tied as favorite until him, but he had given her the best ride. "Freaks are always so eager to please, you understand," she'd told him.

  Adrian left London two hours later. There had seemed little reason to stay. Most of the ton found him hideous to look on, and he was not interested in being a freakish toy for anyone.

  "My, my, you look as yummy as ever," Blanche announced, running a familiar hand up his chest.

  Adrian caught the hand in a hard grip that should have been painful, but all that flashed in Blanche's eyes was excitement. He should have realized she would like pain. He grimly tossed her hand away.

  "Lady Johnson, may I introduce my fiancee, Lady Clarissa Crambray," he said coldly, a warning in his eyes. "Hello." Blanche did not even bother to glance Clarissa's way; her cold, flat gray eyes were too busy eating him alive. "What a lucky girl you are, to have landed yourself such a stallion."

  Adrian saw Clarissa's eyebrows rise and a small frown pull at her lips, and felt anger roar through him. Lady Johnson was playing dangerous games.

  "After you take your little friend home, you should drop around to my place for a ... friendly drink, my lord. I would be most happy to receive you," Blanche murmured. Her hand returned to his chest, then dipped dangerously low to brush toward his groin.

  Adrian knocked the hand away, this time with barely controlled violence. Her behavior was an insult to Clarissa, and he would not allow it.

  "One 'friendly drink' with you was more than enough, Blanche," he said dryly, deliberately neglecting her tide. And, turning his back in another deliberate insult, he caught Clarissa by the arm and moved them past the blonde, leaving her standing in the doorway.

  "She seemed .. . interesting," Clarissa said faintly as he led her down the gallery of paintings.

  "Actually, she is not very interesting at all," he assured her.

  "Oh."

  She was silent so long that Adrian glanced over to see her biting her lip. He suspected she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue as they passed another couple. Once they were alone again, she finally said, "Adrian, I do not want... I mean, if you do not really wish to marry me, you need not."