Chapter 14

T he following morning, after selecting two pieces of toast and a soft-boiled egg, Clarissa found a seat at the breakfast table, opened the Leeds Intelligencer , and was startled to see her own name on the front page.

RUPERT DUPREE THREATENS LEGAL ACTION , read the headline. The subheading continued, CLAIMS HE IS NOT AUTHOR OF LETTER ABOUT CLARISSA WEATHERBY.

Her breakfast forgotten, Clarissa lifted the paper with trembling fingers.

The Leeds Intelligencer received a letter from Mr. Rupert Dupree via his solicitor, Mr. Lawrence de Roos, claiming that he was not the author of the letter published in this paper two years ago, outlining his reasons for rejecting a proposed union between himself and Miss Clarissa Weatherby. Mr. Dupree stated that he was entirely unaware of this letter’s existence until a few days ago, as he has been traveling on the Continent. He has demanded to know how this letter came to be published in the Intelligencer and other prominent newspapers under his name and has threatened to sue for defamation.

The Intelligencer is cooperating with Mr. Dupree’s request for information and is reviewing the circumstances under which the letter came to be published.

“The most disturbing aspect,” Mr. de Roos writes on Mr. Dupree’s behalf, “is the damage done to Miss Weatherby’s reputation as a result of the Intelligencer’s despicable dearth of journalistic standards. Mr. Dupree holds Clarissa Weatherby and all of her sisters in the highest regard, and he is disgusted that such slanderous remarks have been attributed to his name. He will not rest until those responsible have been brought to justice.”

It is our understanding that a similar letter has been sent to every paper that printed the letter attributed to Mr. Dupree. This is an ongoing case, and the Intelligencer will continue to provide updates as our investigation unfolds.

Clarissa stared at the paper, her thoughts aswirl. The article was entirely consistent with what Rupert had told her in the carriage, that he had known nothing about that letter. I am going to make this right , he had said.

He had certainly backed up his words with actions. The original letter had been printed in dozens of papers across the country.

Had Rupert truly threatened to sue them all?

A silver tray appeared beside her. She glanced up to see a footman. On the fringes of her vision, she saw a dozen heads hastily swivel back to face forward. Once again, she was providing the juiciest gossip to Lord and Lady Helmsley’s guests.

The footman held out his tray. “A letter for you, Miss Weatherby.”

She recognized the sturdy handwriting of her brother-in-law, Jasper St. James:

Dear Clarissa,

I received Rupert Dupree’s letter. I am pleased to learn that the two of you have met and managed to work out your differences. I knew he couldn’t have had anything to do with that nasty business in the papers. As I told Eleanor, it would have been entirely out of character.

You may tell Dupree that I will gladly join him in his suits against those miserable rags. I have a very aggressive solicitor in London and would be happy to take the lead. By the time I’m done, they will rue the day they wasted their ink printing the words ‘Weatherby Wallflowers.’

Do send your sisters a letter when you get a chance. They’re eager to know how you’re getting on with Lady Winnifred and a bit sad about the prospect of spending Christmas without you. A word from you will cheer them immensely, and we would make both you and your mistress feel very welcome at Askwith Hall should she be willing to undertake the journey.

Warmest wishes, &c, &c,

Jasper

Clarissa blinked, realizing that her eyes had grown moist. Because that was the moment she knew her reputation would be restored. Pitiable was the fool who tried to stand between Jasper St. James and his stated goal. Jasper would stop at nothing to clear his wife’s name and that of his new sisters-in-law.

No one would dare to laugh at Clarissa after this. After two years of being society’s favorite object of ridicule, she couldn’t quite wrap her head around it.

Just then, Rupert Dupree strolled into the breakfast room, whistling a tune.

Clarissa shot to her feet so quickly her chair scraped against the hardwood floor. It would have tipped over and fallen had a footman not surged forward to catch it. Rupert turned to stare, seeming to notice in an instant that every eye in the room was on the two of them.

“Mr. Dupree,” she said, brandishing the paper, “might I have a word?”

He sketched a courteous half-bow. “Of course, Miss Weatherby. Lead the way.”

She hurried down the hall and opened the first door she came to. She found a parlor with Wedgewood-blue walls. Happily, the room was deserted.

Rupert’s brows rose when she shut the door behind him, but he said nothing.

Clarissa held out the morning paper. “I suppose you were expecting this.”

He took the paper from her, turning it to face him. His eyes widened as he noticed his name at the top of the front page, but then he squinted.

After a moment, he glanced up. “I didn’t bring my glasses downstairs. Would you mind reading it to me?”

Clarissa took the paper back and began to read. Rupert listened in silence until she reached the part about the damage that had been done to her reputation as a result of the letter.

“ Despicable dearth of journalistic standards !” He clapped his hands. “That’s capital. Absolutely capital. Good old Laurie—of course, he would know just how to phrase it.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Please, go on.”

Clarissa felt her cheeks flush as she read the next section, about how Rupert held her in the highest regard. Keeping her eyes fixed on the paper, she finished the last section, then looked up. “Did you truly threaten to sue every paper that printed the letter?”

“Well, of course. That’s the only way to stamp it out. It’s a good start to get the papers in London and York to print a retraction. But I’m given to understand that it ran all over. We can’t have the good people of Upton Snodsbury or Barton in the Beans continuing to disparage your name, now can we?”

Clarissa peered at him, wondering if these were real towns, or if he had made them up. “I cannot say I have devoted much thought to the regard in which I am held in Barton in the Beans.”

Rupert pointed a finger. “Well, we’re going to leave no stone unturned and all that.”

She shook herself. “This also arrived this morning,” she said, holding out Jasper’s letter. Recalling that he could not properly see it, she said, “Of course, you do not have your spectacles. But it is a letter from my brother-in-law, the Duke of Norwood, the gist of which is that he is ready and willing to join you in your legal pursuits.”

Rupert clenched his hands into fists. “That’s the best news, really the best. I’m ready and willing to sue. Of course, I am. But they’ll have taken my measure financially and know that I probably can’t afford to keep up three dozen lawsuits at once. But having Norwood join the case—that’ll really put them back on their heels.”

Clarissa grinned. “Jasper does have a talent for inspiring a hasty retreat.”

“Right you are, Miss Weatherby. Right you are, and he’s a good fellow to have in our corner. This is capital. Absolutely capital.” He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, invigorated in spite of the fact that he was yet to have so much as a cup of coffee. “If you want to know the truth, I’ve felt sick ever since you told me what they printed in the papers. I know this won’t undo everything you’ve been through, but it’s such a relief to know you’ll get some measure of justice.”

Clarissa felt her throat constrict. She could scarcely countenance it, but Rotten Rupert, whom she had spent the past two years hating with a burning passion, had turned out to be a rather fine fellow.

“Thank you, Mr. Dupree,” she said, her voice shaking. “I truly appreciate everything you are doing to clear my name.”

He smiled, a genial expression that settled naturally over his face. “That’s all right. The least I can do, and all that. Does this mean you believe me when I say I didn’t have anything to do with that letter?”

“I do. But I am curious—you said something about another letter, one you sent to my house, and about someone sabotaging you. What really happened?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Now, that is a long story. Not that I’m unwilling to tell it. Not at all.” He glanced at the door for a beat, then turned back to her, his eyes filled with urgency. “But first, there’s something we need to discuss—”

There was a sharp rap at the door. It swung open, and Lady Helmsley poked her head in. “There you two are!” The countess’s expression was stern as she strode into the room. “I know you must be eager to confer, given the exciting news in the papers this morning. But it really isn’t proper for you to be alone, especially with the door shut.”

Clarissa chuckled. “I appreciate your care, my lady. But I am five and twenty. Firmly on the shelf.”

“You are going to be one of the biggest catches in London next year,” Lady Helmsley countered. “And I would never risk your sister’s displeasure by allowing your reputation to be tarnished under my roof.” She waved a hand. “Go on, continue your conversation. I will sit in the corner, and that will take care of the proprieties. You’ll never even know I’m here.”

Rupert gave Clarissa a look filled with a rueful sort of humor, and she took it that whatever he had been about to tell her, he would not care to say it in front of Lady Helmsley. “I fear Miss Weatherby was not able to finish her toast. Why do we not all head to the breakfast room so she can remedy the situation?”

Clarissa gave Rupert a significant look, one that she hoped conveyed that they would talk later. He responded with a wink.

In the breakfast room, she allowed Rupert to hand her into her chair. As the servants bustled about, furnishing her with a fresh cup of tea and two warm slices of toast, she could not help but wonder what was going on. Were she and Rupert… friends? The notion seemed absurd, and yet, she fancied that was just what they were.

And perhaps they were more than that. Perhaps he was the additional agent Sir Henry had mentioned. Perhaps he was her… partner.

The most alarming thing of all was how little that notion disturbed her.

Clarissa cracked open her egg, feeling more confused than ever.