Love Is Blind Read online

  "You lie!" Molly gasped. "It was his kindness that prevented his consummating the match with you. He told me so. His kindness got him killed. A little of that kindness in return from you would have saved him. But you gave none in return."

  "I could do nothing once my father's men found us," Clarissa argued. And then honesty forced her to admit, "But even had I been able to do something on his behalf, I do not know that I would have. He was a stranger to me, and by the time the men found us, I knew it had all been a lie to get my inheritance."

  "A stranger?" Molly cried with disbelief. "He loved you. He told me he fell in love with you the moment he saw you." _ '

  "Then he lied to you as well," Clarissa said firmly. "Probably to make his plan more acceptable to you, and to gain your help."

  "Nay." Molly shook her head.

  Clarissa tsked in irritation. "We never even met. How could he claim to love me?"

  "He told me all about it when he was in prison. He said he ran into you at the theatre and--"

  "Oh, bollocks!" Clarissa snorted. "I was never allowed anywhere alone at that age. We had not met. Surely you remember, when I first arrived at the inn he introduced himself. Why would he introduce himself if we had already met?"

  She saw the confusion on Molly's face as the woman was forced to recall their first meeting. Thinking it was working, Clarissa added, "And as for his loving me, that is not true either. I heard it from his own mouth. I had a nightmare the night we were married and went to find him. When I opened the door between our rooms, it was to hear him explaining to the maid-- Beth, I believe her name was--that she was a lovely lass with luscious breasts, while his wife, alas, was as flat as a board and plain as a boot.

  "When the girl asked why he had married me, he very kindly explained that, while my charms were on the light side, my purse was heavy. He then went on to flatter her further, telling her that she was the reason he had neglected to consummate the wedding, that he would attend that duty the next night on the ship if he had recovered sufficiently from his night with her, but that the whole time he was attending his duty, he would be imagining it was with her.

  "Your brother then proceeded to service her as I closed the door. It seems his greed did not confine itself to money. Had he managed to control himself, he would have consummated our marriage, thereby saving himself." Clarissa shrugged wearily. "As it is, I have since been eternally grateful that I was still as flat as a plank at that age. And I was even more grateful when my father's men showed up."

  "Lies. All lies," Molly growled, raising the letter

  opener.

  "Are they? Come. You were there. I was as pliant and passive as a willow all the way from London to Gretna Green . . . until the last morning. Do you not recall how cross and contrary I was then? How I demanded to return home? Your brother said I was just over—

  wrought, but when I continued to insist he slapped me. Do you not remember?"

  Uncertainty crowded Molly's face, and the letter opener lowered slightly. The memories Clarissa spoke of had clearly come alive in her head.

  'Yes," she murmured with a frown. "You were easily led most of the way, right up until . . ."

  "Until that last morning, the morning after the wedding night that never happened."

  The letter opener lowered even further, and confusion covered Molly's face. But when Clarissa stood up, Molly immediatelyjerked the letter opener back into a threatening position, anger filling her expression. "No. You are trying to trick me. He could not have lied to me."

  Clarissa sighed. "Why? Have men never lied to get you to do what they wanted before?"

  "Not Jeremy."

  "He never lied to you? Ever?" she asked. "Not even to get out of trouble?" When doubt covered the maid's face once more, Clarissa tried another tactic. "When did he claim to have met and fallen in love with me?"

  "He said he saw you at the theatre," Molly answered warily, as if expecting a trap.

  Clarissa smiled. "See? Impossible. I had never been to the theater before this season--not before the night you saw me, in fact. I told you that not ten minutes ago, when you claimed that was when you first saw me again."

  Molly's frown deepened, and her voice wasn't very convincing as she said, 'You were probably lying even then."

  "Why would I lie? I did not know then that he had claimed to see me there." Molly still looked unconvinced, and Clarissa shifted impatiently. "Why are you fighting the truth? Your brother was not the good, kind man you thought."

  "He was. My Jeremy would never do what you are claiming. He must have loved you."

  Clarissa felt pity claim her as she saw the betrayal and fear on Molly Fielding's face. She said gently, "Perhaps the Jeremy you knew would not have. But your brother had gone off to war, spent years there witnessing things we can only imagine. They say war changes a man. Perhaps the Jeremy that returned was not your

  Jeremy."

  A sob slipping from her lips, Molly sank into the chair in front of the desk, the hand holding the letter opener dropping loosely to her side.

  "What have I done?" she moaned hopelessly.

  "Nothing irreparable," Clarissa assured her, taking a slow, cautious step around the desk. She paused abruptly when the girl released a bitter bark of laughter and raised the letter opener again, this time pressing it to her own wrist.

  "Please do not come any closer, my lady. I..." Shaking her head, she glanced at the blade in her hand and back to Clarissa helplessly, hopelessly.

  "Do not do anything rash, Joan--Molly," Clarissa corrected herself. "Everything will be all right."

  "Easy for you to say. You are not the one facing prison."

  'You will not go to prison," Clarissa assured her.

  "How could I not? I have tried to kill you." Molly shook her head unhappily. "I saw enough of prison while visitingjeremy. I would rather die."

  "I shall not turn you in."

  "But I tried to kill you," the woman repeated.

  Clarissa sighed. "Well, you could not have been trying very hard. I am still here."

  Molly sniffled, her head raising hopefully, as if Clarissa had proposed something that might redeem her.

  "Well," Clarissa prompted, " 'tis true, is it not? I was blind as a bat and helpless most of the time. Had you really wanted the deed done, I am sure you would have accomplished it. Instead, you continually bungled the job. And as my maid, you were as efficient as can be. No, I do not think you truly had the heart to kill me."

  "No," Molly admitted on a sigh. "I wanted to hurt you. I wanted you to suffer, but I could not seem to . . ." Pausing, she shook her head. "I fear it matters little whether you turn me in or not. If you were wise enough to figure things out, it is only a matter of time before your husband does. He will see me in prison."

  Clarissa frowned as she realized Molly was right: Adrian would want her to be punished for sure. Her mind began to work, searching for a way out for the girl, and suddenly she brightened and blurted, "America."

  Molly stared at her blankly. "America?"

  "You could go there. I will pay your fare. You could make a new start. Fresh, without the fear of your past coming back to haunt you."

  "I cannot afford--"

  "I shall pay your way," Clarissa repeated firmly, leaning over the desk and pulling a piece of paper forward to scribble a note on it. "I will also give you enough money to start a small business of some sort--a boardinghouse, perhaps."

  "Why?" Molly asked in bewilderment. "Why would you--"

  "Because we both suffered at the hands of your brother, Molly. He tricked us both, and we have both suffered for it these last ten years. You more than me. Besides, Molly, I recall how kind you were to me on that trip, comforting me and assuring me that all would be well."

  Clarissa signed her name to the bottom of the note and straightened to offer it. "Come. Take it. I shall have the coachman drive you to London. You can collect your things, take this note to the bank to collect the money, then catch a boat to Ameri
ca."

  When Molly hesitated, looking hopeful yet almost afraid to hope, Clarissa added, 'You can start a boardinghouse there and a new life as a respectable woman. You can pay me back someday if you do well." That seemed to decide her, and Molly reluctantly took the note.

  Smiling, Clarissa took the letter opener away before the woman changed her mind, set it on the desk, then took her arm to lead her to the door, terribly aware that Adrian could return at any moment.

  "Do you have anything here you need?" she asked. "No, I did not bring much with me. Most of my things are back in London."

  "Then you must collect them ere leaving," Clarissa murmured, opening the library door and leading Molly out into the hall. "All will be well. I hear that the Americas are becoming quite settled. Or you could go to France. You have many options. Do not even tell me which you choose. All will be well."

  Espying Kibble moving up the hall, Clarissa called out for him to have the driver prepare the carriage and bring it around; then she led Molly to the front door and out onto the steps. 'You need not leave England at all if you do not wish. I promise you shall not be pursued for what happened here."

  Molly turned to face her, a wry grimace tugging at her mouth. "This is why I found I could not hurt you." When Clarissa raised a questioning eyebrow, she explained, 'You are kind. I have seen how many women treat their servants. You are not like them. You were always kind to me, treating me as if my opinion mattered--as if we are equals." She smiled wryly. "I almost wish my brother had succeeded in completing the marriage. We would have been sisters then."

  Clarissa smiled. 'Yes, we would have. In fact, we were for a couple of days." She hugged the girl, then turned as the carriage appeared from the direction of the stables.

  "If you need help, call on me," she murmured in the woman's ear, then straightened and urged her down the stairs. The carriage driver hopped down to open the door.

  "Thank you," Molly whispered. Tears in her eyes, she squeezed Clarissa's hand and then stepped up into the carriage.

  "Take her wherever she wants to go," Clarissa ordered. The driver closed the door. Turning, Clarissa moved back up the stairs as the coachman leaned into the window to hear a destination. By the time she reached the door, the man had gotten his instructions, taken up his seat at the reins again and was slapping them, urging the horses forward.

  'You are too softhearted."

  Clarissa turned sharply at those deep, low words, and found her husband standing behind her on the steps. Lord Greville filled the doorway behind him.

  "How long have you been here?"

  "Long enough," he answered. Then he repeated, "You are too softhearted, wife."

  Ignoring his gentle criticism, she turned to watch the carriage roll off down the drive. She asked, "Are you two still friends?"

  "Of course," Adrian said. He paused to glance sharply at Reginald, who answered at the same time, "I have not decided."

  Clarissa smiled slightly at the two men; then she stepped past her husband to take Reginald's arm and walk him back into the house. "Come now, my lord; you must forgive my husband his false accusations. You must have realized by now that he can be quite dull-witted when it comes to those he loves. Why, just look at how he has not yet noticed that I wear spectacles."

  Clarissa sensed her husband's step faltering behind her, and paused to turn back, holding out her hand to him in amusement. Adrian looked quite pale, his suddenly sickly gaze fixed on the wire rims of her spectacles.

  'You can see me?"

  "I have always been able to see you, my lord. I can simply see you better now," she informed him gently.

  He stared, his face blank, and Reginald shifted impatiently beside her. "You really have been blind, have you not?" he asked derisively. "Did you not realize she was just nearsighted? Up close she can see quite well."

  "I believe my husband thought that I could never see him," Clarissa murmured quietly. They were all silent for a moment; then Clarissa sighed and glanced at Reginald. "Perhaps, my lord, you could go inside and find yourself a drink in the parlor?"

  Adrian's cousin grinned. "I have a better idea. I shall return to the Wyndhams', I think, and leave you

  to sort him out." And so saying, he paused to kiss her hand graciously, then moved back down the stairs they'd just ascended, hurrying toward the stables.

  "You could really see me ere this?" Adrian asked once they were alone.

  'Yes, my lord."

  "When did you first see me?" he asked slowly.

  "The night we met--as you leaned forward to speak. You got close enough that I could see your face and your beautiful, big brown eyes."

  Adrian turned his head away, leaving his unmarred profile for her to look at, automatically hiding his scar. Closing the distance between them, Clarissa took his chin gently in hand and turned his face back toward her; then she kissed the mark he loathed so much.

  Adrian flinched, fear on his face. "So you married me out of pity?"

  "Pity?" Clarissa nearly laughed aloud. "Fie, sir! You insult yourself. You are a handsome man."

  "I am a monster. Just a glimpse of my face has been known to make women swoon."

  Clarissa shrugged. "Perhaps you were a sight after you were first injured, while the scar was still red and raw and new--but that was ten years ago. It has settled itself. Your scar is simply a part of you, a line down the side of your face. I think it is much larger in your mind than it truly is in reality."

  "No. I have seen the women cringe."

  "Did you see them cringe this season, my lord?" Adrian hesitated, and she nodded triumphantly. "I thought not. I imagine you even had a woman or two attempt to arrange liaisons with you while we were in London," she added archly, recalling Lady Johnson's indecent proposal.

  Adrian gave a snort of disgust. "Only those wishing to experience a moment with a freak."

  "Oh, I hardly think so." Clarissa smiled wryly, leading the way into the house and moving toward his office. "But pray, continue to think as you wish. I shall never need fear your being unfaithful if that is the case."

  Adrian snorted again, following her into his office. "You need never fear that anyway. I am not interested in other women. I sowed my wild oats long ago."

  "Hmm." Clarissa moved to the desk and seated herself carefully on the edge. "And do you think then that I want you because I wish to experience bedding a freak?"

  Adrian frowned. "Do you still want me now that you

  can see me?"

  "I have already told you, husband: I saw you on the first night we met, and many times since then. I have always wanted you."

  "Seeing glimpses of me and seeing me fully and clearly and up close as I touch you are two different things."

  Clarissa considered that, then nodded solemnly. "You are right, of course, my lord. They are two different things. I suppose that means that you do not want me now that I will again wear spectacles."

  Adrian blinked. "That's not a fair comparison. You can take the spectacles off."

  "Not if I wish to see," Clarissa pointed out. She slid off the desk and began undoing the fastenings of her gown. "Perhaps we should test it."

  "What are you doing?" Adrian asked in dismay, whirling to push the door closed as she began to disrobe.

  "Well, it seems to me, my lord, that we are in a bit of a quandary. I had no spectacles when we were married, so you might truly find me ugly with them. Not having spectacles, I also could not see you 'up close' as you touched me. Therefore we do not know--we might find each other thoroughly repulsive. It would seem to me that we must find out if that is the case, and if our marriage has any sort of a chance."

  Adrian stared wide-eyed as his wife pushed her gown off her shoulders, allowing it to pool at her feet. Her other garments quickly followed, leaving her standing before him as naked as the day she'd been born ... except for her spectacles.

  Swallowing thickly, he peered at her body, his eyes roving over her breasts, across her flat stomach and to the thatch
of hair that nestled between her legs. A distressed sound drew his eyes quickly upward, and he saw that she cupped her full breasts and peered down at them in displeasure.

  "It is as I feared," she said unhappily, and Adrian felt his heart stop at the words. Then she glanced at him and explained, "The very idea of enjoying the pleasure you give me with your body has made my breasts feel heavy and achy, my nipples puckered as if for a kiss."

  Adrian swallowed again, his eyes fastening on the proof of her words, taking in those swollen breasts, their nipples hard and a dark cinnamon color. Then she moved one hand from her breast, sliding it down over her stomach to that nest of curls between her legs. His eyes widened incredulously as her fingers dipped down and disappeared.

  "Oh, dear."

  Adrian glanced up sharply again at that sigh, and she explained, "I appear to be already wet from the caress of your eyes. This is not working at all. How can I worry about your scar when your whole body, your very presence, affects me so?"

  Releasing her breast, she held out her other hand to him. "Come," she whispered, and Adrian nearly tripped over his feet to obey.

  He hurried forward, took her hand, then paused uncertainly as her gaze narrowed on him. "No, this does not appear to help, my lord. While I can see your scar very clearly, I cannot seem to ignore the rest of you to imagine the effect the scar alone might have on me." Her eyes shifted to meet his and she arched an eyebrow. "Did you not wish to join this experiment, husband, and see if you are repulsed by my spectacles?"

  Adrian nodded dumbly, and she smiled. "Then why am I the only one naked?"

  Adrian jerked his jacket off, tossing it across the room in his fervor, then began tugging impatiently at his cravat as Clarissa set to work on the buttons of his shirt. She had managed to undo only a couple by the time he'd loosened his cravat enough to rip it off over his head; then he settled the problem by ripping his shirt open. Buttons scattered everywhere. Adrian did not even bother to remove his jacket, but set to work on his breeches instead, undoing them and shoving them halfway down his hips.

  His engorged member popped free, and Clarissa immediately caught it in one hand and squeezed it gendy. She smiled up at him.

  "It would seem my spectacles do not deter your ardor, my lord. I am vastly relieved."