21. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

C larissa's heart skipped a beat as Dalton's words hung in the air. Suddenly, something she should have realised before snapped into place in her mind.

"Wait," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did you know about the corsairs?"

Dalton's easy smile faltered, his blue eyes darting to the side. "I beg your pardon?"

Clarissa's fingers tightened on her skirts, the delicate silk threatening to tear under her grip. "The corsairs, Edward. You mentioned them just now, as well as telling my parents about it in Portugal, but I never told you about that part of my... ordeal."

A bead of sweat trickled down Dalton's temple. He cleared his throat, adjusting his cravat. "Oh, I'm sure you must have mentioned it at some point, my dear."

"No," Clarissa said, her voice gaining strength as certainty settled in her chest like a stone. "I most certainly did not."

She took a step closer, the rustle of her gown seeming unnaturally loud in the sudden silence between them.

"Edward," she said, her tone deceptively light, "is there something you're not telling me?"

Dalton's charming fa?ade cracked further, revealing a glimpse of something darker beneath. "Clarissa, darling, you're imagining things."

Clarissa's thoughts whirled like a dervish. How could he know? Who could have told him?

Dalton reached out to her, but she instinctively slapped his hand away, taking a swift step back. "Don't you dare touch me. Tell me the truth. Now."

Dalton's hand fell limply to his side, his former confidence evaporating. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing nervously.

"I... I..." he stammered, eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. "Lady Helena told me. The dowager Lady Glenkellie, I mean."

Clarissa's eyes narrowed, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. The lie was as transparent as glass. Lady Helena could be forthright, but she would never in a hundred years have said something so indiscreet and damaging to Clarissa's reputation. "You expect me to believe that?" she hissed, taking a step closer to him.

Dalton stumbled back, nearly tripping over a small table. "It's true!" he insisted, his voice rising an octave. "She... she was concerned about you. Wanted me to keep an eye on you."

The absurdity of his claim only fuelled Clarissa's anger. Lady Helena, betray her in such a way? The very thought was an insult. "Edward Dalton," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "you are many things, but I never took you for a fool. Do you truly think I would fall for such an obvious falsehood?"

His handsome face contorted, desperation replacing his usual easy smile. "Clarissa, please," he pleaded, reaching for her again. "You must understand—"

She jerked away, disgust roiling in her stomach. "Understand what? That you've been lying to me? That you know far more about my ordeal than you should?" Her voice rose with each question.

As Dalton floundered for a response, Clarissa's mind raced. How deep did his deception go? And more importantly, what was she going to do about it?

Clarissa's eyes narrowed as she studied Dalton's face, searching for any hint of truth. "You're not denying it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You lied about Lady Helena."

Dalton's shoulders sagged, the fight seemingly draining out of him. "Clarissa, I—"

But she was no longer listening. Her mind whirled, piecing together fragments of conversations, odd glances, and inexplicable coincidences. The horrible realisation crashed over her like a wave.

"The only way you could know..." she began, her voice trembling with a mixture of fury and disbelief. "The only possible explanation is that you were involved somehow."

Dalton paled, confirming her suspicions before he could utter a word.

Clarissa felt as though the ground had fallen away beneath her feet. "Dear God," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "What have you done?"

She straightened her spine, summoning every ounce of strength she possessed. "Tell me the truth, Edward," she demanded, her voice ringing with authority she didn't know she had. "I want to hear every sordid detail of your involvement in my kidnapping. And may God have mercy on your soul if you lie to me again."

As she awaited his response, Clarissa's heart pounded in her chest. How could the man she once thought she might be able to love be capable of such treachery? And what other secrets might he be hiding?

Dalton's face contorted, a mix of shame and desperation etched across his once-handsome features. "I... I owed money," he confessed, his voice cracking. "A Greek moneylender. The debt was astronomical, Clarissa. I was desperate."

Clarissa's stomach churned, the bitter taste of betrayal rising in her throat. "So you sold me to corsairs ?" she spat, her hands trembling with rage.

"No!" Dalton exclaimed. "I swear, I thought they would only hold you for ransom. Your father's wealth... I never imagined they would sell you."

The room seemed to spin around Clarissa as she processed his words. She steadied herself against a nearby chair, her knuckles white as she gripped the ornate wooden back. Another terrible suspicion began to form in her mind.

"The vineyards," she whispered, her eyes widening with dawning horror. "It was you, wasn't it? You sabotaged Rafael's vineyards."

Dalton's silence was damning. Clarissa watched as he seemed to crumple before her, no longer the dashing figure she had once admired but a pitiful, cowardly shell of a man.

"How could you?" she breathed, her voice raw with emotion. "I trusted you, Edward. We all did."

As the full weight of his betrayal crashed down upon her, Clarissa's mind raced with the implications. How many lives had he ruined? How much damage had his selfish actions caused?

Her eyes flashing with righteous anger, her voice trembled as she spoke, crushing him with her words. "I would sooner marry a mongrel dog from the streets than a man without honour like you, Edward Dalton."

She watched with grim satisfaction as Dalton flinched away from her, his face contorting with shame.

"Clarissa, please," Dalton pleaded, reaching for her hand. "We can still make this right. Your father—"

She snatched her hand away, her skin crawling at his touch. "Do not speak of my father," she hissed. "You have no right."

Clarissa's mind raced, considering her options. She knew she held the power now, and a part of her relished it. Taking a deep breath, she fixed Dalton with a steely gaze.

"I will ruin you," she declared, her voice low and dangerous. "Every drawing room in London will know of your treachery. And Rafael—" she paused, savouring the way Dalton blanched at the name, "—I will tell him everything."

Dalton's face drained of colour. "You wouldn't," he whispered, terror evident in his eyes.

Clarissa lifted her chin defiantly. "Try me."

"He - he'll kill me!"

Clarissa had absolutely no doubt of that fact. Rafael would not hesitate to call Dalton out for the sabotage to the vineyards alone, never mind for selling her to the corsairs, and he would shoot Dalton dead.

Dalton's eyes darted about the room like a cornered animal. In an instant, he bolted for the door, nearly knocking over a delicate side table in his haste.

Clarissa watched him flee, her heart pounding. "Coward," she muttered under her breath, smoothing her skirts with shaking hands.

"Clarissa?" A voice called her name a few moments later, and she looked around to see Diana entering the library. "Are you quite well? Will said you were hiding out in here, but Mama is looking for you."

"I am well indeed, thank you." Clarissa lifted her chin and smiled. "The better for your company, of course."

Diana laughed and linked her arm through Clarissa's. "I have missed you, dear one." She leaned closer and said confidingly, "I shall miss you more when you reside in Portugal, however, though I do plan to make Will bring me to visit you at least every year or two."

"I may have got rid of Mr. Dalton, but it still brings me no closer to persuading Papa to let me marry Rafael," Clarissa said glumly.

"Got rid of Mr. Dalton?" Diana's delicate brows rose. "How did you manage that, Clarry? He seemed quite persistent."

"Indeed, even going so far as to threaten to blackmail me!" Her hands were still trembling. Clarissa tried to breathe deeply, telling herself that it was over, even as her sister exclaimed in horror and demanded the details.

I faced him down alone. She was proud of that, even though she had resorted to threatening Dalton with Rafael's vengeance at the end. And indeed, she would tell Rafael… about Dalton's sabotage of the vineyards, at least, because he deserved to know. Somehow, she did not think Dalton would ever risk showing his face in the same city as either her or Rafael ever again, though.

Having vanquished Dalton, suddenly she felt more confident about her ability to win over her parents. They would not force her into marriage, of that she was certain. Her father's bark was far worse than his bite. If she was patient, steadfast in her insistence that Rafael was the only man she would marry, they would, eventually, give in.

If only she could see him!

The thought gave her an idea, and she looked at her sister. "Di. Would you do me a favour?"

"Anything, dearest, you have only to name it!"

"Would you give a ball?"

Diana blinked in bemusement. "A ball?"

"Yes. Mama and Papa can hardly refuse to permit me to attend, and you can make sure Rafael is on the guest list."

Understanding dawned, and Diana chuckled. "Of course, Clarry. It might take a little time to arrange, however… two weeks?"

"That would be perfect," Clarissa agreed. Two weeks should give her time to make it very clear to her parents that none of the candidates they kept presenting to her would ever be acceptable… and she supposed, it would also give Edward Dalton time to make himself scarce from any place Rafael might decide to look for him once she told Rafael of Dalton's sabotage.

Two weeks later, Clarissa found herself standing before a gilded mirror in Diana's London townhouse. The candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows on the emerald silk of her new ball gown.

"You look radiant, dearest," Diana said, adjusting a stray curl that had escaped Clarissa's elaborate coiffure.

Clarissa forced a smile. "Thank you, Di." She swallowed, her mouth dry. "Is he here?"

"Arrived a few minutes ago with Alex and Marianne." Diana linked her arm through Clarissa's. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Clarissa lifted her chin, determined. Tonight, she was going to see Alex, to talk and dance with him, no matter what her father might say. The earl wasn't going to create a ruckus at Diana's first London ball; his wife would never forgive him.

As the sisters descended the grand staircase, the sounds of laughter and music washed over them. Clarissa's eyes scanned the crowded ballroom, her breath catching as she spotted a familiar tall, dark form.

Rafael.

Even from a distance, she could see how he stood out among the other gentlemen, his practical but well-tailored navy uniform a stark contrast to their ornate waistcoats and brocade jackets.

"Clarissa," her father's stern voice startled her as she reached the bottom of the steps and started towards Rafael. The Earl of Creighton appeared at her elbow, his expression severe. "I must speak with you."

He led her to a quiet corner of the ballroom, away from prying ears. Clarissa's stomach twisted with apprehension.

"I've noticed how you look at that Portuguese captain," her father said in a low, disapproving tone. "I forbid you to go near him tonight. Do you understand?"

Clarissa's cheeks flushed with indignation. "But Father, Captain de Silva is a gentleman and—"

"A penniless foreigner," the Earl interrupted. "He's not suitable company for you. I won't have any gossip about my daughter and a man of his... circumstances."

Clarissa bit her tongue, knowing that arguing would only make matters worse. She nodded stiffly, her mind already racing with ways to circumvent her father's edict.

"Yes, Father," she replied, her voice dripping with barely concealed sarcasm. "I shall endeavour to avoid all men of honour and good character this evening."

The Earl's eyes narrowed. "Mind your tone, young lady. Now, go make yourself agreeable to Lord Ashbury. He's been asking after you."

"Absolutely not." Clarissa lifted her chin defiantly. "If I cannot marry Captain de Silva, I shall not marry anyone!"

Turning on her heel, she stormed away from her father, losing herself among the glittering crowd before he could begin to shout and cause a scene. Half-blinded by tears of rage and frustration, she stumbled on without looking where she was going, ignoring voices that called out to her, until she ran hard into an immovable object and warm, strong arms closed around her.

"Clarissa." His low voice whispered her name, and she looked up to find him gazing down at her with concern written all over his handsome face. "Are you well, meu amor?"

"Dance with me," she begged, and he asked no questions, only whirled her onto the dance floor. They joined a set with Alex and Marianne, and Clarissa tried to lose herself in enjoying the dance, though she almost began to cry again when Marianne squeezed her hand gently in passing. She could see her mother standing at the edge of the dance floor, glaring disapprovingly, and her father too, with Diana and Will beside him probably the only thing keeping the earl from making a scene.

"I have to tell you something," she began, looking up at Rafael.

"That your parents are determined to forbid me from you?" His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I will persist, nevertheless."

She loved him all the more for it. "And if it becomes necessary, I will leave it all behind and run away with you," she said, her voice low, for his ears alone. "The only thing stopping me from doing it tonight is the thought of my younger sisters and their future prospects. They do not deserve to be embroiled in a scandal."

"I understand." Rafael nodded seriously. "I will wait, meu amor. As long as I must."

Her heart felt full to bursting as he called her his love for the second time, and she clung to his hand for the precious seconds permitted by the pattern of the dance. "And I will marry no one but you, no matter what you might hear, please believe it. But it isn't that which I have to tell you, Rafael. I've found out who the saboteur is."

His sea-green eyes flittered dangerously as she told him what she had discovered, not revealing that Dalton's actions had resulted in her being sold to the corsairs, only that Dalton had accidentally let slip his guilt about the sabotage.

"He was trying to ruin me," Rafael muttered, before letting slip a few words in Portuguese which Clarissa didn't recognise – but from Alex's expression of amusement as he passed them, were probably curse words.

"He's a coward," Clarissa said. "I'm fairly sure he has fled London – I told him that I would reveal the truth to you. I doubt either of us will ever lay eyes on him again."

"He had better hope I do not," Rafael growled menacingly.

"I hope that expression doesn't bode ill for your father, Clarissa," Marianne said lightly as the pattern of the dance forced them to switch partners. Clarissa could tell from the look on her aunt's face that she was only half-joking.

"Rafael and I are agreed that we will wait my father out. As long as it takes." Knowing that Rafael was willing to wait gave Clarissa a surge of confidence. She would wear her father down, eventually.

"Arthur is being quite ridiculous. High time I had a word with him." Marianne's jaw set determinedly. "I shall visit tomorrow morning, Clarissa."

Clarissa could not imagine what her aunt might say that could change her father's mind. She would just have to enjoy these few stolen moments with Rafael, because the dance was drawing to a close and she could see her father approaching, his face a thundercloud.

"I can't let him ruin Diana's ball," she told Rafael, and saw the understanding on his face.

"Do whatever you must," Rafael said, and she wanted to fling herself into his arms and kiss him. Instead, she gave an impeccable curtsey at the end of the dance before walking briskly away and latching onto her father's arm.

"Please don't embarrass Diana," she said quickly, before the earl could say a word.

Her father took a deep breath, the mottled colour in his cheeks receding. "You will not leave my side again this evening," was all he said.

Clarissa bowed her head penitently, but as her father led her away, she sneaked a glance back at Rafael. He was watching her, smiling as their eyes met, and the warmth of that smile carried her through the rest of the evening.