CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Clarissa entered the breakfast room the next morning, her mind still swirling with thoughts of Lord Bolton and their interactions on the ice.

As she sat down to eat, she was joined by her mother, who looked disapprovingly at Clarissa’s plate. She had once again piled it high with food. Lady Eleanor’s cook was excellent, and Clarissa took full advantage of the delights on offer.

“Things seem to be progressing well with Lord Bolton,” her mother said, her voice low so as not to arouse the company about them. Clarissa still felt uneasy as she glanced at her. A knowing glint in her eye made Clarissa’s chest tighten.

Before she was forced to defend herself, however, Emily and Rosemary entered the room and came to sit beside her. They were followed by Lord Bolton, who settled himself at the other end of the table. He nodded in her direction with a friendly smile as she glanced at him, and she felt a shiver run up her spine as his eyes darkened.

Mindful of her mother, Clarissa returned to her breakfast and was relieved when Lady Eleanor told them that the activity for the day was to be a treasure hunt.

Clarissa’s heart leaped as they were told that everyone in the party would be split into pairs and made to look for clues throughout the day. Despite her fears, she knew in her deepest desires she wished to be placed with Lord Bolton. No matter the impropriety and dangers of associating with a known rake, she enjoyed his company so undeniably that she could not imagine a better partner for the game.

Eleanor placed a hat on the table that appeared to have the names of everyone present inside it. As she drew out each name, there were cries of excitement from all. Everyone appeared very diverted by the idea of a treasure hunt, and since it was such a grand and beautiful estate, they could not fail to have many places in which to search.

When Clarissa’s name was called, she realized she was holding her knife and fork exceedingly hard as she waited with bated breath to see with whom she would be partnered.

“And Miss Crompton will be playing with… Lord Bolton by her side!” Lady Eleanor announced, although there was a look exchanged between her and her nephew, which Clarissa could not decipher.

She looked across at him, astonished by the intensity of his gaze as he saluted her with his teacup. It was a delicate china thing with small pink flowers all about the edge and a gold rim. It looked quite ridiculous in his large, male hand, and she found a smile spread over her face as she watched him raise his little finger in exaggerated superiority. It was clear that he was jesting about them being the superior team, and she hid a smile.

For her part, Clarissa was unsure whether to be excited or terrified at the prospect of spending all day with him.

After breakfast, everyone gathered to receive their first clue, and Clarissa’s heart was aflutter and her stomach wild with nerves as she approached Lord Bolton. His eyes were twinkling with excitement, and he greeted her with a warm smile.

She held out the clue, shuddering a little as he took it, and their hands brushed against one another. Lord Bolton’s eyes flicked back to hers, and she saw him draw in a deep breath before he opened the paper in his hand. His eyes briefly scanned the words, and he lowered it so that she could read it, too.

They read it together, their heads bowed intimately as they tried to decipher where it might lead them. Lord Bolton's spicy scent surrounded her as she tried to breathe shallowly. It was a faint scent of oranges from his pomade and of pine, woodland, and everything she loved about England.

Before she could be swept away by her wild imaginings again, she focused on the clue, which was brief and in the form of a riddle.

I have a spine but no bones.

Where today comes before yesterday.

They looked at one another, and she could see from his eyes that they shared the same idea. With a conspiratorial smile, they set off. They were mindful that they were competing against the other teams and hung back to avoid being seen by Emily and Rosemary, who were walking swiftly through the hallway.

Lord Bolton had instinctively put a hand on Clarissa’s arm to stay her, and she felt a thrill at the unconscious contact. Once Emily and Rosemary were out of sight, they walked quickly across the hallway, keeping their eyes wide for any other teams. Lord Bolton swiftly opened the library door, and they slipped inside.

It was a magnificent room, and as he closed the door, she took a little time to scan through the shelves, wishing she had known of it sooner. She imagined if she got up early, she could start a new book before anyone else was awake.

Lord Bolton’s eyes were sparkling as he closed the door. Annie, Clarissa’s maid, was with them, always in close quarters to ensure no impropriety could take place. As she entered the room, Clarissa was reminded of her position immediately. She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep good sense in her head when Lord Bolton was nearby.

“We are of the same mind, it would seem?” Lord Bolton enquired, his voice no more than a whisper.

“Indeed, do you think any other pairs have found this clue yet?”

“I do not know, but my aunt told me the clues differ between some teams to make the game more challenging.” He grinned.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest at the sight of it. She recognized that Lord Bolton’s smile was different in society. It was charming but not genuine. The grin he aimed at her now was wide and unfettered by societal pressures. She had never seen it before, and for it to be revealed when they were alone made something like joy bloom in her chest.

“A spine but no bones,” he said triumphantly, sweeping his hand about the room before them. “A book, one can only surmise.”

“Indeed, but we do not know which book,” Clarissa replied, already enjoying the game, uncertain whether it was the challenge or her partner that was making her feel so alive.

“What was the second part of the clue?” Lord Bolton asked, taking it out of his pocket as they looked it over.

“Where today comes before yesterday…” Clarissa mused, biting her lip as she thought through the options. “Perhaps something to do with history?”

“Or could it be an old newspaper? I know my aunt is privy to reading them in the mornings within this very room.”

“I’ve got it!” Clarissa said, forgetting herself as she clapped her hands and raised her voice above a whisper.

Lord Bolton did not seem to mind her outburst. He laughed excitedly as Clarissa walked across the room to the collection of uniform green spines on one of the shelves.

Lord Bolton followed eagerly and then chuckled. “Of course! A dictionary. How clever you are to think of it.”

Clarissa opened the dictionary to the required page but found nothing inside. They checked ‘today’ and ‘yesterday,’ but nothing else was forthcoming.

“Aha, these are out of order,” Lord Bolton cried, and his long fingers skipped along the tops of each volume. He was correct. Volume three was misplaced after volume five.

As he pulled it out, the next clue fell to the floor between them. Caught up in the game, both leaned down instantly to retrieve it, and their hands clasped the note together.

Clarissa gasped, returning to her feet and blushing furiously as Lord Bolton did the same. He was rather more composed, and she was mortified by her easy blushes. He was all gentlemanly politeness as he handed her the note. As Clarissa took it, she could feel his eyes boring into her.

“You read it,” he said, his voice a little lower than it had been.

Your uncle’s brother is your father, but what is your relationship with your uncle’s sister-in-law?

Clarissa read it aloud. Once she finished, she looked up at him to find him already watching her. For a charged moment, their eyes locked. Neither of them looked away, even as they contemplated the answer. It was a complex puzzle, as one had to single out the father to discover the true nature of the final relationship.

They both hit upon it simultaneously, and Clarissa’s eyes widened as they said it together.

“The mother!”

Nicholas clicked his fingers and looked up to the library's second floor.

“Lady Edith’s portrait,” he said. He sounded like a schoolboy who had discovered a sweet shop. “This way!”

In an instant, Clarissa found herself running after him to the base of the beautiful spiral staircase in the library. They climbed to the balcony, which was stacked with yet more books. At the end of the staircase was an ornate oil painting of an elderly woman who looked very like Lady Eleanor.

“This is Lady Eleanor’s mother; it can only reference her. It could not be a mother of one of the players, for anyone could have found the clue.”

“You are right; she was a very stern-looking woman. Did you ever meet her?”

“Only once. When I was a boy, she found me trampling all over the flowerbeds and clapped me about the ear for ruining her roses. I did not go back into the garden for six months.”

Clarissa could not help but laugh. As she did so, it occurred to her that she had not laughed or smiled so much in many months.

Lord Bolton's answering laugh and enthusiastic grin were all the more welcome. Clarissa felt her chest flutter as twin feelings warred within her. Annie stood behind them like the shadow of her lost reputation, and Clarissa was dismayed at how her feelings had changed. The day before, her solemn resolution had been to remain as stoic and reserved as possible. The idea of doing so now caused her some pain.

She greatly enjoyed Lord Bolton’s company, and it was becoming clear to her that in the short time of their acquaintance, he was one of the most amiable men she had ever met.

Is this what he was like with the women in Paris…with the widow that he entertained? Am I simply another pawn in a larger game?

Lord Bolton frowned at her as she felt the smile fade.

“Is all well?”

“Yes, quite well,” she said, rallying quickly. “I merely wish to ensure we win the game. Do you know of the prize?”

“I do not, but my aunt has a reputation for much opulence on such occasions. I have great hopes for us winning; we make a good pairing.”

Clarissa felt her cheeks burn and turned to the portrait, trying her best not to think of how pleasing it would be to be paired with Nicholas for more than just a trivial treasure hunt.

“Where might the next clue be hidden?” she asked.

“Try beneath the frame.”

And sure enough, as she ran her fingers along the edge of the frame, she came upon a small piece of paper wrapped in red and green ribbon.

I have many cupboards but no clothes, I can get hot but have no sun, I’m full of dishes, but I’m not a cupboard, What am I?

They quickly ascertained that they would find the next clue in the kitchen. Clarissa walked behind Lord Bolton, her mind running over the words he had used. They were a good pairing. It was an alarming thing to recognize, but there was no denying it. She had not felt this easy or content around anyone since Catherine had left. It was as though a kinship between them had existed even before they met.

She could only describe the feeling as two puzzle pieces coming together. You looked at the piece in your hand and the space it might occupy, but the picture only became clear when they were placed together.

The kitchen led them to three more rooms in the house, each clue becoming more complex as they continued. Clarissa could hear great shrieks of laughter and joy from the rest of the house as the pairs encountered one another.

There was a healthy level of competition between them all, but she and Nicholas were neck and neck with Lady Wilde and Lord Addison.

Lord Bolton and Lord Addison had a hilarious turn of phrase whenever they met. Clarissa was rather scandalized by the rude way in which they poked at one another, but the depth of their friendship was obvious. Lady Wilde attempted to join in their banter, but most of her contributions fell short of the acidic way the men talked.

By the time they reached the final clue, even Clarissa was keen to win. Lord Bolton’s enthusiasm had never waned, and she had enjoyed the privilege of his company for a good hour and a half. They had discussed the arts and literature, and they had learned that they both had a love of poetry.

Lord Bolton had seen many plays in Europe during his time there, and Clarissa was delighted to find that he adored Shakespeare almost as much as she did.

By the time they reached the final clue, their friendly discussion had never faltered, and Clarissa was dismayed and happy in equal measure at the connection she felt growing between them. It was becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile the rake of her imaginings with the man she saw before her.

She wondered how Catherine’s attachment had started, how the spark had sprung between them. Perhaps her sister had been as guarded as Clarissa felt but simply could not hold back from the need that pulsed within her.

As they walked through the house, it was as though the eyes of the many portraits they passed were upon her, the whisperings of society rising to a crescendo as they watched her resolve falter.

Her guard was slipping. She was teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice.