18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

T orre do Rochado had not seen such celebrations in decades. The castle was filled to the brim with flowers and celebrating guests for Isabella's wedding.

The music swelled as Isabella and her new husband, Mario, the Conte di Bardolino, took to the dance floor for their first dance as man and wife. Rafael watched from the sidelines, acutely aware of the empty space beside him where Clarissa should have been.

As the happy couple whirled past, Isabella caught his eye, her radiant smile fading into a sympathetic frown. She leaned close to Mario and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and gracefully led her off the dance floor. It was mere moments before Isabella was marching up to Rafael, hands on her hips, her new husband trailing in her wake with an amused expression on his face.

"What are you doing, fratello mio? Why are you not dancing?"

Rafael sighed and took a sip of his wine. "I am in no mood for dancing, I am afraid. Do not let my ill temper blight your day, dear one."

"He is missing Clarissa, I think," Mario said with a small laugh.

"Oh Rafa," Isabella shook her head. "Can't you see? The poor girl is in love with you! And you let your silly male pride get in the way."

"In love with me?" Rafael scoffed. "I think not. She left!"

"Men! Honestly, you are all so blind sometimes." Isabella grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong for one so slight. "Listen to me, Rafael. That girl looked at you like...like Mama used to look at Papa. She left only because you did not ask her to stay!"

Could it be true? Had he completely misread the situation with Clarissa? The thought filled him with equal parts elation and dread.

If he had ruined things with his rash words and selfish assumptions… Dio mio, he would never forgive himself. He had to make this right, pride be damned. Even if she rejected him, he had to try.

Rafael set down his glass and kissed Isabella on the cheek. "Grazie, sorella. You have given me much to think on."

She smiled and patted his face. "Go to her, Rafa. Fight for the love you deserve."

"Do not worry about the estate," Mario put in. "Isabella and I will oversee things in your absence."

Relief and gratitude washed over Rafael in equal measure. "Thank you, brother. Your support means more than I can say."

With renewed purpose, Rafael set about making preparations for his journey. As he packed his trunk, his mind whirled with possibilities. What if Clarissa refused to see him? What if her feelings had changed? No, he could not afford to think like that. He would win her back, no matter the cost.

As the carriage carried him away from the sun-drenched vineyards of his homeland, Rafael's heart soared with hope and trepidation. He was sailing into uncharted waters, but for Clarissa, he would brave any storm. England, and his heart's desire, awaited.

The carriage jolted to a stop before an elegant London townhouse, its fa?ade a pristine white against the grey, misty sky. Rafael alighted, his heart hammering in his chest as he approached the door. He rapped the brass knocker, the sound echoing through the quiet street.

Moments later, the door swung open, revealing an urbane butler. "May I assist you, sir?" His gaze raked Rafael, a frown lowering his brow as he took in Rafael's worn travelling clothes. "I don't believe…"

"I must speak with the Marquis and Marchioness of Glenkellie immediately," Rafael interrupted, his voice firm with resolve.

"I will see if they are receiving, sir. Your card?"

Rafael blinked. "Ah - I don't have a card. Please tell them Rafael de Silva is here."

"Very well, sir." The butler ushered him inside, leading him to a well-appointed drawing room and leaving him alone with an expression that suggested he rather thought Rafael might put his dirty boots up on the sofa if left unsupervised for too long.

Scarcely a minute had passed before the door burst open, revealing Marianne and Alex, their expressions a mixture of shock and delight.

"Rafael!" Marianne exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace him. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Alex clasped his hand, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I dare say this is a surprise, my friend. I thought you were tending to your estate in Portugal."

Rafael ran a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. "I was, but I realised... I realised I could not let Clarissa go without a fight."

Marianne's face softened, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Oh, Rafael. I had hoped you would come to your senses."

She gestured for him to sit, her expression turning serious. "I must tell you, Clarissa wrote to you just a few days past. I posted the letter myself."

Rafael's heart leaped, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. "She wrote to me? What did she say?"

Marianne shook her head, her red curls bouncing. "I am sorry, Rafael. It was not my place to read her correspondence. But I can tell you this - she has been miserable since returning to England. Her father is determined to see her wed, but she refuses every suitor he presents."

Alex leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Rafael, if you truly love her, you must act now. Her father grows more insistent by the day."

Rafael nodded, resolve settling over him like a mantle. "I do love her, with every fibre of my being. And I will not rest until she is mine."

He stood, his posture straight and proud. "I will call on her tomorrow, and pray she will receive me. But first, I must find lodgings and make myself presentable."

Marianne waved a hand, dismissing his concerns. "Nonsense, you will stay with us. We have more than enough room, and I insist upon it. You are our honoured guest - it is the least we can do to repay the wonderful hospitality you showed us in Portugal!"

Gratitude swelled in Rafael's chest, warming him from within. "Thank you, both of you. Your friendship means the world to me."

As he followed the suddenly much more welcoming butler to his chamber, Rafael's mind raced with anticipation. Tomorrow, he would lay his heart at Clarissa's feet, and hope against hope that she would accept it. For now, he could only pray, and dream of the moment he would hold her in his arms once more.

He had barely stepped over the threshold when Alex's voice behind him made him turn.

"I say, Rafael… we had not planned to attend, but there is to be a ball tonight, and Marianne believes Clarissa will be there. Would you like to attend? Otherwise, you can call at her house tomorrow."

"But I might not be granted admittance to her house," Rafael said, thinking quickly. "The Earl cannot deny me speaking to her in public, however. Yes, Alex, I should very much like to attend, if it will be possible?"

"I'll pen a note to the hostess now advising we'll bring a guest." Alex flashed him a grin. "The advantage of being a marquis is that people find it very hard to say no even if you're making unreasonable requests! Do you have suitable clothing? Otherwise I dare say my suits will fit you well enough…"

"I have suitable clothing," Rafael said. "I am still a commissioned officer in the Portuguese Navy, after all."

"A military uniform is always acceptable." Alex bowed his head. "I'll send my man to help you bathe and shave!"

Rafael's heart raced as he entered the glittering ballroom, his eyes searching the crowd for a glimpse of Clarissa. The sea of unfamiliar faces and the opulent surroundings of the London society ball were a far cry from the deck of his ship, but he navigated this new world with the same determination that had served him well on the high seas.

And then he saw her.

Clarissa stood across the room, resplendent in a gown of pale blue silk that accentuated her delicate features and sun-kissed hair. As if sensing his presence, she turned, their eyes meeting across the crowded ballroom. In that moment, the rest of the world fell away, and there was only her.

Rafael made his way through the throng of people, his eyes never leaving Clarissa's face. As he drew closer, he saw the play of emotions across her features - surprise, joy, and a depth of feeling that took his breath away. In that moment, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she loved him, just as he loved her.

"Clarissa," he breathed, taking her hand in his. "May I have this dance?"

She nodded, seemingly unable to speak, and he led her onto the dance floor. As they moved together in perfect harmony, Rafael marvelled at the feel of her in his arms, the way her hand fit so perfectly in his own. He had never felt as alive as this moment with Clarissa.

"I thought I would never see you again," Clarissa whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Rafael tightened his hold on her, his heart aching at the thought of the pain he had caused her. "I am so sorry, my love. I was a fool to let my pride and jealousy come between us. But I am here now, and I will never leave you again."

Clarissa's eyes shone with unshed tears. "Do you truly mean that, Rafael?"

He nodded, his gaze intense and unwavering. "I love you, Clarissa. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you, and I will love you until my last breath. Please, tell me you feel the same."

Her next words set his heart ablaze.

"I do, Rafael. I love you more than I ever thought possible. But..." She hesitated, worry creasing her brow. "My parents will never approve of our match. They have their hearts set on me marrying Lord Weatherby."

Rafael cupped her cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear. "I will overcome their objections, my love, however I must. I will prove to them that I am worthy of your hand, that my love for you is true and unshakable."

Clarissa leaned into his touch, drawing strength from his conviction. "I believe in you, Rafael. Together, we can face anything."

The Earl of Creighton sat rigidly behind his desk, his eyes narrowed as Rafael entered the study. "Captain de Silva," he said coldly. "To what do I owe this… unexpected visit?"

Rafael met the Earl's gaze unflinchingly, his posture straight and proud. "My lord, I have come to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."

The Earl's face turned an alarming shade of red, his fists clenching at his sides. "You cannot be serious! Clarissa is meant for far greater things than a penniless Portuguese captain with a crumbling castle and a few measly vineyards to his name."

Rafael's jaw tightened, but he refused to rise to the bait. "I may not have wealth or titles, my lord, but I have something far more valuable - my love for your daughter. She is the very air I breathe, the light that guides me through the darkness. I would lay down my life for her without a moment's hesitation."

The Earl scoffed, his lip curling in disdain. "Pretty words, Captain, but they mean nothing in the face of cold, hard reality. Clarissa deserves a husband who can provide for her, who can give her the life she was born to lead. And that man is not you."

Rafael's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of anger and frustration coursing through his veins. He had faced down corsairs and battled raging seas, but nothing could have prepared him for the Earl's scathing dismissal. "You underestimate your daughter, my lord," he said, his voice low and intense. "Clarissa is not some delicate flower to be coddled and sheltered. She is a woman of strength and courage, with a heart as vast as the ocean."

The Earl's eyes flashed with anger. "You presume too much, Captain. I will not stand here and listen to you speak of my daughter as if you know her better than I do. Now, I suggest you take your leave before I have you thrown out."

Rafael's hands clenched into fists at his sides, the urge to lash out nearly overwhelming. But he knew that violence would solve nothing. With a stiff bow, he turned on his heel and strode from the room, his boots echoing on the polished floor.

As he emerged into the crisp London air, Rafael's mind raced with the implications of the Earl's words. How could he possibly convince the man to see reason? To understand that his love for Clarissa was pure and true, untainted by concerns of wealth or status?

Lost in thought, Rafael barely noticed the carriage pulling up to the curb until a familiar voice called out to him. "Rafael?"

He looked up to see Marianne and Alex, their faces etched with concern. "I came to ask for Clarissa's hand," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "But the Earl...he refused me outright. Said I was unworthy of her."

Marianne's eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, Rafael...I am so sorry. But surely he must see reason! After all, Clarissa owes you her very life."

Alex nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed in thought. "Indeed. And your character is beyond reproach. The Earl cannot possibly object on those grounds."

Rafael shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You underestimate the man's stubbornness. He is determined to see Clarissa married to some wealthy lord, regardless of her own feelings on the matter."

Marianne exchanged a glance with her husband, a determined glint in her eye. "We shall see about that. Come, Alex...we must speak with the Earl ourselves. Surely he will listen to reason if it comes from us."

As they disappeared into the house, Rafael could only pray that their words would be enough to sway the Earl's heart. For without Clarissa by his side, he knew that his own life would be nothing but an empty shell, devoid of all light and joy.

The Earl sat in his study, his expression stony as Marianne and Alex were shown in. He barely glanced up from his papers, his voice cold as he spoke. "I suppose you are here to plead the case of that… foreigner."

Marianne bristled at the disdain in his tone, but kept her voice calm as she replied. "Rafael is a good man, my lord. Surely you must see that. He saved your daughter's life, at great risk to his own. And his character is beyond reproach."

The Earl snorted, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. "Character? What does character matter, when he has no title, no fortune to speak of? Clarissa deserves better than some penniless nobleman from a foreign land."

Alex stepped forward, his own voice firm. "Rafael may not have wealth or a title, but he has something far more valuable - honour, and a heart that beats only for your daughter. Can you not see how much they love each other?"

But the Earl only shook his head, his jaw set stubbornly. "Love? What does love matter in the face of practicality? Clarissa will marry Lord Weatherby, and that is final. I will not hear any more arguments on the matter."

Marianne exchanged a helpless glance with Alex, her heart sinking. It seemed that the Earl was determined to remain blind to the truth, no matter how plainly it was laid before him.

As they took their leave, Marianne could only hope that somehow, some way, Rafael and Clarissa would find a way to be together. For she knew all too well the pain of a love denied, and she would not wish such a fate on anyone.