20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

T he following days passed in a blur of tedious social calls and carefully curated events. Clarissa found herself longing for the vibrant energy of the grand balls, but her mother remained steadfast in her decision.

"Lady Ashbourne's intimate soirée this evening, my dear," the Countess announced one afternoon, adjusting her daughter's lace collar. "A select gathering of only the most refined company."

Clarissa sighed inwardly. "And I suppose Captain de Silva won't be in attendance?"

Her mother's lips thinned. "Certainly not. Lady Ashbourne assured me of it. Really, Clarissa, you must put that man out of your mind. Now, sit down and pen a thank-you note to Lord Pembrook for the flowers he sent you." With a final stern glance, the countess left the room, leaving Clarissa alone, obviously expecting her daughter to meekly obey.

"Lord Pembrook! Flowers!" She did not even know which of the multitude of arrangements decorating the tables around the room the lord had sent, and she did not care. He could whistle for his thank-you note! Clarissa paced the drawing room, her curls bouncing with each agitated step. A knock at the door caused her to spin around, her eyes wide with anticipation. Had Rafael somehow come to her?

The butler opened the door and announced, "Her Grace, the Duchess of Balford."

Not Rafael, but a truly welcome visitor. "Diana!" Clarissa rushed forward and embraced her sister tightly. "I'm so glad you're here."

Diana returned the hug, her gentle eyes filled with warmth. "Of course I came, dearest. How could I not, after receiving your letter? I'm so eager to meet your dashing Captain de Silva!"

Clarissa pulled back, searching her sister's face. "And you don't mind about Rafael? That he's not...not exactly what Father had in mind for me?"

Diana laughed, a tinkling sound that instantly set Clarissa at ease. "Mind? Whyever would I mind? He sounds perfectly lovely from your description. A dashing sea captain, nobly serving his country despite misfortune. It's all delightfully romantic."

Relief washed over Clarissa like a soothing balm. She had been terrified that even Diana might not understand her feelings for Rafael. But she should have known better. Dear, sweet Diana had always supported her, no matter what.

"He is lovely," Clarissa said with a dreamy sigh. "And brave, and honourable, and handsome as sin. Oh Diana, I do love him so. I can scarcely think of anything else."

"Then that's all that matters." Diana took Clarissa's hands in hers, her expression turning earnest. "If you love him, and he loves you in return, then you must follow your heart. Life is too short to let others dictate your happiness."

Tears pricked at the corners of Clarissa's eyes. How had she been so lucky, to have a sister as wonderful as Diana? "Thank you," she whispered. "Your support means the world to me."

Diana smiled, then looped her arm through Clarissa's and began leading her towards the settee. "Now, you must tell me absolutely everything about your dashing captain. I want to know precisely how he swept you off your feet. Leave out no detail, no matter how small. I insist on hearing the whole thrilling tale."

Clarissa giggled, feeling lighter than she had in days as she settled beside Diana. With her sister by her side, she finally dared to hope that somehow, someway, she and Rafael would find a way to be together. No matter what obstacles stood in their path.

As they entered Lady Ashbourne's opulent drawing room, Clarissa plastered on a polite smile. The air was heavy with perfume and the cloying scent of too many bodies in too small a space. She scanned the room, her heart sinking as she recognized the familiar faces of several gentlemen her parents had put forward as potential husbands.

"Lady Clarissa!" Lord Pembrook materialised at her elbow, his florid face beaming. "How delightful to see you. Might I interest you in a game of whist?"

Clarissa suppressed a groan. "How kind of you to offer, my lord, but I'm afraid I'm feeling rather fatigued this evening. Perhaps another time?"

As she gracefully extricated herself, Clarissa's thoughts drifted to Rafael. Was he attending other events, searching for her in vain? Or had he given up, concluding that her sudden absence meant rejection? Diana had promised to send a note around to Marianne explaining how ghastly Clarissa's parents were being, but Clarissa hated feeling so powerless.

"This is intolerable," she muttered under her breath, accepting a glass of tepid lemonade from a passing footman.

"Did you say something, my dear?" her mother inquired sharply.

Clarissa forced a bright smile. "Not at all, Mother. I was merely remarking on how... intimate this gathering is."

As the evening wore on, Clarissa found herself cornered by one eager suitor after another. She longed for Rafael's wit and easy conversation, the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed. These men, with their polished manners and empty flattery, paled in comparison.

Desperate for a reprieve, Clarissa excused herself and made her way to a secluded alcove, hoping for a moment's peace. As she turned the corner, she collided with a tall figure.

"I beg your pardon," she began, then froze as she recognized the man before her. "Mr. Dalton?"

Edward Dalton's handsome face broke into a charming smile. "Lady Clarissa! What a delightful surprise."

Clarissa's mind whirled. "I... I thought you had returned to Durham. To your family."

Dalton's smile faltered for a moment before he recovered. "Ah, yes. Well, you see, my father had other plans. He's ordered me back to London to find a wife."

"How... convenient," Clarissa replied, unable to keep a hint of suspicion from her voice. Something about Dalton's explanation rang false, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why.

"Indeed," Dalton agreed, his tone light. "And how fortuitous to encounter you here. I've missed our conversations ,especially our time in Athens."

Clarissa's throat tightened at the mention of Athens. The memory of her kidnapping, and Rafael's daring rescue, flooded her mind. She struggled to maintain her composure.

"Yes, well, much has changed since then," she said coolly.

Dalton's eyes narrowed slightly. "Has it? I had hoped we might rekindle our... friendship. Portugal was… well, we were not able to be quite so intimate as we were in Athens, but…"

Clarissa took a step back, her heart racing. "Mr. Dalton, I—"

"Clarissa, darling!" The Countess's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "There you are. And Mr. Dalton, how lovely to see you again."

Clarissa turned to see her mother approaching, a calculating gleam in her eye. She groaned inwardly, recognizing that look all too well.

"Mother," Clarissa said, forcing a smile. "Mr. Dalton was just telling me about his return to London."

"And my father's instructions for me to find myself a wife," Mr. Dalton put in, bowing obsequiously.

"How wonderful," the Countess beamed. "We must have you for dinner soon, Mr. Dalton. Won't we, Clarissa?"

Clarissa's smile felt brittle. "Of course, Mother."

As they bid farewell to Mr. Dalton and made their way back to the main party, the Countess leaned in close to Clarissa's ear.

"Mr. Dalton might not be quite what we hoped for in terms of wealth and position," she murmured, "but he is from a good family. And at least he's younger than some of the suitors your father favours."

Clarissa's temper flared. "Mother, surely you can't be serious! Mr. Dalton was the one who told you about the... incident with the corsairs," she hissed. "He betrayed my confidence and jeopardised my reputation! I cannot trust him."

The Countess waved a dismissive hand. "Men often speak out of turn, dear. It's nothing to hold against him forever."

Clarissa clenched her fists, frustration building within her. "I won't marry him, Mother," she said firmly. "I won't even consider it."

The Countess's eyes hardened. "We shall see about that, Clarissa. We shall see."

It did not take long for Edward Dalton to discover that Captain Rafael de Silva was in London, having apparently pursued Lady Clarissa Creighton there with a firm intention to marry her.

That could not be permitted to happen, of course. Edward had decided, almost as soon as he discovered Clarissa had somehow escaped the fate she had been destined for at the hand of the Algerian corsairs, that she would make him a fine wife after all. She was lovely, well-dowered, and her sister was a duchess. His place at the top of English society would be guaranteed.

First, though, he would need to discredit that troublesome Portuguese captain and send him scurrying back home with his tail between his legs. And tonight, he had determined that de Silva would be at this ball, likely in hopes that Clarissa would be present. Which she would not be, as the countess had been forewarned of de Silva's likely presence… by Edward himself, of course.

Edward stood by the mantelpiece, swirling a glass of brandy as he observed the ballroom with narrowed eyes. His gaze fixed on de Silva, who had just entered the room, cutting a dashing figure in his uniform. He watched as Rafael's sea-green eyes scanned the crowd, clearly searching for Clarissa. Dalton's fingers tightened around his glass, knuckles whitening. Time to put his plan into action.

"Good evening, Captain!" Dalton called out, his voice dripping with false congeniality as he approached Rafael.

Rafael turned, surprise flickering across his features. "Mr. Dalton, good evening. I didn't expect to see you in London."

"Oh, I'm full of surprises," Dalton replied with a smirk. "I hear you've been quite the sensation since your arrival. Tell me, what brings a Portuguese naval officer to English society?"

Rafael hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I have... personal matters to attend to."

"Personal matters, indeed. I'm sure Lady Clarissa is thrilled to have you here." He noticed Rafael stiffen at the mention of Clarissa's name. Perfect , Dalton thought. This will be easier than I imagined.

"You seem well-acquainted with Lady Clarissa's affairs," Rafael responded, his tone guarded.

Dalton laughed, the sound hollow and insincere. "Oh, Clarissa and I go way back. Childhood friends, you know. In fact, I've been thinking it's high time I settled down. Perhaps with a familiar face."

He watched Rafael's jaw clench, satisfaction coursing through him. The seeds of doubt had been planted. Now, to nurture them into full-blown rumours that would destroy any chance Rafael had with Clarissa.

Dalton leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Between us gentlemen, I've heard whispers about your... intentions. Some say you're quite the fortune hunter."

Rafael's sea-green eyes flashed with anger. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, come now," Edward pressed, relishing the captain's discomfort. "A penniless Portuguese nobleman pursuing one of England's most eligible heiresses? It's rather transparent, don't you think?"

Rafael's fists clenched at his sides. "You know nothing of my intentions, Mr. Dalton. I suggest you mind your own affairs."

Edward raised his hands in mock surrender. "No offence meant, Captain. I'm merely repeating what I've heard in certain circles. But I'm sure a man of your... background... understands how quickly rumours can spread in London society."

As Rafael opened his mouth to retort, a striking redhead in a revealing gown sidled up to them. Edward suppressed a smirk, recognizing the actress he'd hired for this very purpose.

"Captain," she purred, pressing herself against Rafael's arm. "I've been longing to speak with you all evening."

Rafael stiffened, clearly uncomfortable. "Madam, I don't believe we've been introduced."

The woman giggled, her fingers trailing down his chest. "Oh, but we have, darling. Don't you remember our passionate encounter last Friday evening?"

Edward watched with satisfaction as nearby partygoers turned to stare, whispering behind their fans. Rafael's face paled as he gently but firmly removed the woman's hand.

"There must be some mistake," Rafael insisted, his voice strained. "I've never met you before."

The actress's lower lip trembled convincingly. "How could you say such a thing? After all your promises..."

As the scene unfolded, Edward slipped away, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. The trap was set, and Rafael's reputation would soon be in tatters. Clarissa would have no choice but to turn to him, Edward, for comfort and security. Everything was going according to plan.

Edward's smug satisfaction was short-lived. As he made his way through the crowded ballroom, a familiar voice cut through the air, causing him to freeze mid-step.

"I can assure you, madam, that Captain de Silva was with me at the time you claim this... encounter occurred," Alex, the Marquis of Glenkellie, declared loudly, his tone brooking no argument.

Edward whirled around, his heart sinking as he saw Alex standing beside Rafael, his hand clasped firmly on the Portuguese captain's shoulder.

"In fact," Alex continued, his gaze sweeping the room, "Captain de Silva has been at my house every evening last week. I can provide multiple witnesses to corroborate this, as my wife the Marchioness and I have been entertaining every night at dinner and the captain is residing with us, an honoured guest in our home."

The actress faltered, her confident demeanour crumbling. "But... I... that is..."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd as the woman's act fell apart.

"I do not even know your name, madam," Rafael said, his deep voice carrying. "I fear I have never laid eyes on you before this moment. Perhaps you have me confused with someone else?"

"I…" the actress looked around, desperately seeking a supportive face, or, failing that, an escape. "Yes… perhaps I have."

"Then I shall bid you a good evening," Rafael said politely.

Edward clenched his fists, watching helplessly as his carefully crafted plan unravelled before his eyes.

Rafael's sea-green eyes met Edward's across the room, a mixture of relief and suspicion in their depths. Edward quickly averted his gaze, his mind racing.

"Blast it all," he muttered under his breath, tugging at his cravat as sweat beaded on his brow. He needed a new strategy, and fast.

A desperate idea began to form in Edward's mind. If he couldn't destroy Rafael's reputation, perhaps he could force Clarissa's hand another way. It was risky, but he was running out of options.

"Very well," he muttered grimly. "If this is how the game must be played, so be it. Clarissa will be mine, one way or another."

With renewed determination, Dalton slipped out of the ballroom, his mind already formulating his next move. He had one last card to play, and he intended to use it to devastating effect.

Another evening, another boring private dinner where there was no chance she would see Rafael. Another collection of dull-as-ditchwater potential suitors. Clarissa wanted to tear at her hair and scream.

Perhaps they'll think I'm mad , she thought irreverently. That might discourage a few of them, at least.

At least tonight she had her sister for company. Diana sat further up the table, of course, as a duchess she was one of the most important guests present. Her husband Will, the Duke of Balford, came to Clarissa's rescue more than once during the evening, deflecting some of her more persistent suitors.

"Are you quite all right?" Will asked in an undertone. "You look quite pale."

"I'm hating every moment of this," Clarissa said with blunt honesty, remembering how much she had always liked Will when he gave her a conspiratorial grin.

"Why don't you sneak through that door behind you into the library and hide out for a few minutes by yourself? I'll claim I haven't seen you."

"Bless you, brother." She gave him the first real smile she'd managed that evening, stole his brandy glass from his hand and took an unladylike gulp before handing it back. "I won't be gone too long, I promise."

Will's chuckle was cut off by the door clicking shut behind her.

The library was blissfully quiet, entirely empty, and pleasantly well lit. Well enough for her to be able to read the titles of the books on the shelves, most of which looked as though they had never been touched. Clarissa spent a happy few minutes browsing before the sound of a door opening made her whirl around. Edward Dalton was just entering the library, by a different door to the one she had used, smiling at her and then closing the door behind him.

Clarissa was suddenly acutely aware that they were alone.

"Mr. Dalton," she said, lifting her chin proudly. "If you'll excuse me." She marched towards the other door, fully intending to re-enter the fray. Better that than to be alone with this man.

Dalton's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "If you'll allow me just a moment of privacy, my dear Lady Clarissa, I'm afraid I have some rather distressing news to share with you."

Clarissa's brow furrowed as she turned to look at him suspiciously. "What news might that be?"

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It concerns your... unfortunate adventure in Athens. Your kidnapping by corsairs, your days in captivity, and your dashing rescue by Captain de Silva. Quite the scandal, wouldn't you agree?"

Clarissa's hands trembled as she fought to maintain her composure. "How dare you," she hissed. "That's a private matter."

"Private for now," Dalton agreed. "But imagine if word were to spread throughout London society. Your reputation would be in tatters."

A cold dread settled in Clarissa's stomach as she realised the full implications of his threat. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dalton's eyes gleamed with triumph. "It's quite simple, my dear. Agree to marry me, and I'll ensure this sordid tale never sees the light of day."

Clarissa's mind whirled, torn between outrage and fear. How could she possibly agree to such a demand? And yet, if word of her kidnapping spread, it would destroy not only her reputation but her family's as well. Her younger sisters might never be able to marry. Even Diana might be harmed by the rumours.

"You're despicable," she spat, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

"Perhaps," Dalton shrugged. "But I'm also your only option. What will it be, Lady Clarissa? Marriage, or scandal?"