Chapter Sixteen

C larity wondered whether to deny it. In fact, she thought about telling her younger sister to mind her own business. She did neither. She merely shrugged.

"You seem to have all the answers, so why did you call me out like this?"

Purity took a deep breath, looking a little sad. "To tell you to stop."

"Stop?" Clarity repeated. "Stop loving someone? Just like that?"

Purity twisted her fingers, looking unsure, which was unlike her.

"Then I was correct. I hoped I wasn't. But you must cease with your infatuation, if at all possible, before you embarrass yourself or become tremendously hurt."

" Oh," Clarity said softly. "Am I embarrassing you and the rest of the family?"

"I may be the only one to notice, although Mother has a keen eye. You looked directly at Lord Hollidge when Mrs. Boswell mentioned your husband was in the room."

Clarity gasped. "Did I? I didn't mean to."

Her sister patted her shoulder. "I don't want you to appear desperate, nor allow Miss Brambury to stomp on your feelings with her perfect silken slippers."

"Is everything about her perfect?" Clarity demanded.

"Hardly. She is boring and humorless."

"Are those really her only bad traits?" Clarity knew she, herself, had many more than that. At the moment, she was jealous, too, and feeling decidedly petty regarding Emmeline.

"I am certain the lady has many more," Purity said. "Probably she has exceedingly long toes or a wart on her backside, but the ones I mentioned are the most apparent. I think Lord Hollidge can hardly keep his eyes open whenever she speaks to him."

"Then you don't think he loves her?" Clarity asked.

"He might," Purity said, dashing Clarity's hopes until her wise sister added, "but not with his heart. He may love the idea of the proper, serious, attentive, capable wife, but he doesn't really want to live like that."

"He doesn't?" Clarity thought that was precisely what Alex did want.

"Don't you think he seemed far happier when he used to visit?" Purity asked. "I was younger than you and didn't spend as much time with him as you did, but I recall a laughing, joyful boy."

"That's what Mother said," Clarity agreed. "It's hard to imagine he could turn out as he has or that he wishes to grow ever more staid with someone like Miss Brambury at his side. Think of their children's lives."

Purity shuddered. "Maybe they'll raise solely chickens," she mused, recalling what the fortune-teller said.

Clarity clamped her hand over her mouth to stop the laughter, and then, wretchedly, for the briefest second, a sob escaped her instead. Her sister's slender arms encircled her.

"Try to spend your time with Lord Brennon. You looked happy at dinner. Were you?"

Clarity nodded, having been seated between Lord Brennon and Lord Kilbey. "I was. He is ever such good company."

"Well, then, he shall make you a good husband."

Her sister might be correct, but she didn't love him the way she had expected to love the man she married. The way she already loved Alex.

Luckily, Lord Brennon hadn't yet asked for her hand, and Clarity continued to hope she could persuade her heart in his favor.

And then unexpectedly, she ran out of time.

"A word in private, Lady Clarity, if I may," Lord Brennon asked abruptly as the late-night supper ended.

He'd been quiet during the meal, and now she realized he'd been thinking of making this grand gesture. A moment before, they had stood up from the table, with the guests set to retire to the drawing room for a recitation by her father from one of Jonathan Swift's satiric works. The Irish writer was a favorite of Lord Diamond.

Taken aback, Clarity was momentarily silent.

"That is," Lord Brennon added, "if your parents would allow."

He'd spoken in front of everyone, and each pair of eyes had gone from his face to Clarity's to their hosts'.

Lord Diamond looked at his wife. Almost simultaneously, her parents nodded at one another, and Clarity knew they were expecting Lord Brennon to propose. With her insides trembling — or more accurately, heaving — she feared she would lose her recently eaten supper.

"Yes," her father said. "You may speak privately in the library."

Her mother coughed, and he added, "With the door open, naturally."

Clarity nearly laughed. Her dear mother had prompted her father to save her reputation in front of the other guests, not because either of her parents feared she would ever do anything untoward. They would never believe she'd already kissed Alex ever so passionately in a dark garden — twice — or that she longed to do more with him if he were willing and an opportunity presented itself.

Wrestling her thoughts back to the gentleman at hand and away from the one who was staring at her from the other side of the table, she nodded.

However, she did not tuck her hand into the crook of Lord Brennon's arm, which he offered, but simply led the way out of the room.

As soon as they entered the library, going to the far wall of windows where they wouldn't be easily overheard, Lord Brennon spoke.

"Lady Clarity, I hold you in high esteem and admire you greatly."

That would be an excellent start , she considered, if she felt the same way . Except in place of the excited fluttering she experienced with Alex, she felt ill. That could not be an auspicious sign.

"Thank you, my lord. You are a kind man." He would make someone an excellent husband but not her. She should have stopped spending time with him as soon as she realized she wasn't falling in love.

"Thank you," he returned. "I believe I have made my intentions clear over the past weeks."

Clarity held up her hand, and he stopped, open-mouthed and mid-speech. She should not have been caught unawares. She hoped she could prevent Lord Brennon from proposing because she would have to turn him down, which was a grave thing, indeed. The fault was entirely hers, foolishly believing a grown man could be content to remain as they were for the remainder of the Season, for no other reason than because they were having fun.

"You have been clear," she agreed. "Were I to pretend otherwise, it would be a lie. And I have happily kept company with you because you are charming and witty. I hoped by this time..." She trailed off as he began to frown. "That is, I fear your attachment has grown stronger than my own."

His forehead smoothed. "That may be true since you are easy to grow fond of."

How sweet of him! And yet, searching her heart, Clarity couldn't dredge up a spark indicating she would ever feel more for him than she did at that moment. Maybe he was overestimating his own feelings for her. If so, they could return to the party and pretend they had conducted a private conversation about ... about ...

She couldn't think of any reasonable excuse they could offer. And with him continuing to gaze tenderly at her, there was nothing she could do now but end their association. She saw that as clearly as looking through a freshly vinegared window pane.

"It is easy to become fond of someone with whom you spend a great deal of time," she began. "Nonetheless, that doesn't indicate —"

She gasped as Lord Brennon grabbed her hands in both of his in a gesture of passion that she hadn't witnessed from him before.

"Clarity, I love you!" he declared.

Oh, dear! Her stomach sank.

"I am terribly sorry," she said, watching his expression change from hopeful to crestfallen. "It is entirely my fault. I know that men and women make attachments during the season with the idea of a proposal at the end. Frankly, I didn't think you would wish to become engaged this quickly." Rather pell-mell, she thought, like a runaway horse.

Again, his expression grew placid. "I understand now. I have rushed you. You aren't averse to an engagement between us but are only concerned by the haste."

She swallowed. That would be an easy way of putting off hurting him until they returned to London. Like a coward, she could send him a missive, telling him they should no longer keep company.

However, she was no coward.

"I am sorry," Clarity repeated. "I do not think I ... no, you deserve utter honesty. I will never fall in love with you, my lord. If I were going to, I am sure I would know it."

Frozen for a moment, Lord Brennon finally sighed. Then he nodded.

"I am disappointed. Some might say devastated, but I am not a complete fool. I did keep a little of my heart in reserve in case this didn't work out as I had hoped."

"I didn't realize that was possible," she said, admiring the man even more. If the situation was reversed, she had no doubt she would be crushed.

In truth, she knew deep down to her bones such a horrible experience awaited her when Alex and Miss Brambury made their own announcement.

"As I said, you are kind, my lord. I wish my feelings were otherwise. Moreover, I cannot express how appreciative I am that you never once said I was a diamond of the first water." Her voice broke with a hiccup of sadness, and she knew she was going to cry.

"I thought it," he said with a small melancholy smile, finally releasing her hands, "and I still do because you truly are."

Her tears started to fall, and as the gentleman he was, Lord Brennon produced a handkerchief and handed it to her.

"I shall gather my things and leave at once."

"You don't have to," she said, although they both knew he did. Everyone would know what had occurred.

"Yes, I do. While I can say I am not entirely devastated, I am also unwilling to endure the torment of being in your presence a moment longer, knowing now that you will never be mine."

She nodded. After all, it was the same reason she half-wished Alex had never come, while at the same time relishing each minute in his presence. It was, as Lord Brennon said, the very definition of torment.

"In that case, my lord, because we have been friends and because I wish you the best, I urge you not to travel at night. I would not be able to sleep if you did. There is a well-appointed inn in the village, and I will make sure our driver takes you there directly." She hoped he would at least think of her as a caring person, even if she'd trampled his heart.

"I will not snub you when we meet in London," he said, which put him head-and-shoulders above most.

She sniffed again as fresh tears threatened. "I shall alert my parents as to your departure."

And then he was gone, not only from the library but from her life. How strange to have been spending so much time with a man suddenly to realize she never would again.

A wave of loneliness crashed over her as she blew her nose on his handkerchief. She had, in fact, grown fond of Lord Brennon.

What a pity she couldn't have loved him. Nor could she have married him without love, grateful he hadn't asked her to compromise.