An Unsuitable Match (17 page)

She swallowed.

Lady Alice's attention returned to her. ‘See,' she whispered.

Clarice nodded as she beheld him in all his magnificence. He turned his head in her direction and started to smile, then something seemed to catch his eye and he stopped. He turned back to his companion.

Disappointment clutched at her heart. He had barely acknowledged her.

His supposed indifference was soon explained when beside her Lady Alice hissed, ‘Lord save us.'

Clarice looked in the direction she was pointing her walking stick and her mouth went dry. Striding across the room, with Lady Susan Kirk following closely behind, was Thaxter Fox. As they approached, Clarice saw that they both wore the same supercilious expression on their faces. She wished she could be anywhere else but here.

‘Good evening, Lady Alice. Good evening, Lady Clarice; what a comfort to see you both in possession of such good health to attend such a sophisticated occasion,' Thaxter said and dipped into one of his overdone bows.

Lady Susan gave a deep curtsy to Lady Alice, before stepping up and taking Clarice by the hand. She looked Clarice's clothing up and down and gave an approving nod. ‘I am so pleased to see you here this evening, my dearest Clarice. And what a pretty gown. So much more suited to an unmarried miss than, dare I say it, than the revealing one you wore to the garden party.'

Lady Alice snorted her displeasure. Clarice bit her tongue. Her grandmother had chosen the dress for the garden party.

‘I am happy to see you and Mr Fox have become such fast friends,' she replied, remembering her side of the bargain.

Susan blushed. ‘Well yes, we —'

‘Your father introduced us a few weeks ago; Lady Susan has given me a wealth of considered advice. Though I must say it was a pity you were unable to stay with us for very long at Lady Brearley's garden party,' said Thaxter, turning to Clarice. ‘I found your sudden disappearance rather disappointing.' His voice had turned to ice.

Clarice looked at Thaxter and Susan and quickly came to the conclusion that they had formed some sort of unholy alliance. She gritted her teeth in disgust.

That was not part of our bargain.

Clarice spied a footman bearing a tray of champagne glasses.

Ladies and gentlemen, actions speak louder than words.

She reached out and took two glasses. With a glance at her avowed teetotaller friend, she quickly downed the first and handed the footman the empty glass. A tsk of displeasure escaped Susan's lips, but Thaxter remained silent.

‘Clarice!' Susan hissed, as she lifted the second glass to her lips.

Clarice gave her a wicked smile, which disappeared as Lady Alice stretched out a hand and silently took the glass from her. As the effects of the first glass rapidly began to dull her senses, she was more than grateful for her grandmother's timely intervention.

‘I believe you may have other priorities, Clarice,' Lady Alice said, and motioned toward David, who was making his way across the ballroom toward them.

‘Mr Radley, a pleasure to see you as always,' Lady Alice gushed as he drew close. She held out a gloved hand to him and gave him the sweetest of smiles. Clarice looked at her grandmother and wondered just who this woman was standing beside her.

‘Lady Alice,' David replied and placed a kiss on her hand.

The look of disgust on both Susan and Thaxter's faces had Clarice wishing she could break into a round of applause.

Oh, well played.

David gave Lady Susan the greeting required, but ignored Thaxter. Clarice curled her toes up in her slippers. It was not every day that you actually witnessed someone being given the full cut. Silently she chastised herself for enjoying the uncomfortable atmosphere. Her late mother would never have approved of such behaviour.

David's gaze now fell upon her.

‘Lady Clarice,' he said.

She wondered if only she heard the warmth and longing in his voice. She smiled. In the presence of the man who had declared his love for her, she was unable to find the requisite social mask.

‘Mr Radley,' she replied, fighting to maintain her composure.

‘Lady Alice, I would like to request your permission to dance with your granddaughter,' he said.

Thaxter stepped forward, and attempted to come between Clarice and David.

‘Out of the question, Radley! You know Lord Langham's decree. His daughter does not dance with the likes of you.'

‘You forget your place, Mr Fox,' said Lady Alice, in a tone which brooked no argument. ‘You might one day be an earl, but at this particular moment you are just a rude usurper. While my son is otherwise occupied, I shall be the arbiter of whether a gentleman is suitable or not to dance with my granddaughter. Mr Radley, you have my approval.'

A flash of anger crossed Thaxter's face. Twice in the space of five minutes, Clarice suspected he had revealed his true self.

‘My sincerest apologises, Lady Alice, I meant no disrespect to you,' Thaxter replied.

Clarice took a deep breath. David was not just flouting the rules of their private agreement, he was tearing it to pieces. By rights she should be furious with him and refuse his request. But knowing how much satisfaction that would give Thaxter and Susan, she couldn't deny him. Something told her that after tonight, she would never be able to deny him anything again.

If he could be brave enough to publicly invite her father's wrath, then the least she could do would be to stand alongside him. She held out her hand to him.

‘I would love to waltz with you, Mr Radley, and who knows: if you are skilled enough, perhaps I may grant you a second dance this evening.'

His eyebrows rose just enough to show he agreed with this change in plans. They were in this together.

‘I shall bring her back in time for supper,' he said. Lady Alice waved them away.

‘You do know my father is expected here tonight?' she muttered as David led her toward the dance floor.

‘Yes,' he replied.

The orchestra struck up the opening strains of a waltz.

‘Are you ready to cross the Rubicon with me, Clarice?'

She looked at him and nodded, lamenting the fact that it was her father they would have to deal with, rather than a whole invading army. An army could be made to see reason.

He took hold of her hand and, placing the other hand on her waist, pulled her close. ‘Come, let us enjoy the moment. I expect your father would not wish to see you at the centre of another scandalous public scene this season.'

She looked up and into his eyes. ‘It's the aftermath that worries me. After what he did to your brother, are you really prepared to risk it?'

A look of shock appeared fleetingly on his face.

‘I am not a fool, David,' she added.

He looked deep into her eyes.

‘I know. And yes: for you, Clarice, I would risk your father's wrath.'

In that moment something shifted within her soul. Whether it was love or the realisation that David truly meant to fight for her, she could not discern. But she would do as he asked and join him in sharing the moment.

The dance floor was crowded, but Clarice saw only David. Holding her tightly in his arms, he whirled her effortlessly around the floor. At every turn he took the opportunity to whisper terms of endearment to her. At first they were heartfelt and she found a tear in her eye, but as the dance progressed they became wittier, bordering on the ridiculous. When he whispered she was his warm cup of bedtime milk, she laughed with delight.

‘Mr Radley, you are utterly outrageous,' she exclaimed.

His wide-eyed look of mock surprise made her miss the next step. A strong arm pulled her close, lifted her off the floor, and set her back down at exactly the spot where she should be. She had never danced with anyone who was so at one with the music. Skills could be learnt, but the way he moved was pure instinct.

If only this moment could last a little longer. A lifetime, perhaps?

She was no fool, though; nor was she one to hope for things to last forever. The music finally came to a close and David pulled her through the last turn. They stood hand in hand, staring at their entwined fingers, reluctant to let go.

‘Thank you,' she said, when she finally withdrew her hands.

He lifted his head and she saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed.

‘I will not fail you, and I shall never give up hope for us,' he said.

She looked at his face and saw his gaze was focused on something behind her. She frowned.

‘My father?'

‘Yes.'

‘Angry?'

He nodded.

She paused for a moment, before bobbing a short curtsy to him and turning to face her father. David caught her by the arm and pulled her back to him.

‘You are mine, no matter what he says or does,' he said, his voice resolute.

Clarice said nothing. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest. She was unable to think. Slowly she walked away from him and toward her stony-faced father. Alongside Lord Langham stood Mr Thaxter Fox and Lady Susan Kirk.

She ignored her father's heir, reserving her gaze for Susan, her supposed friend. Tears welled in her eyes when she saw Thaxter and Susan exchange self-satisfied nods of the head. No-one needed to explain to Clarice how her father came to be standing at the edge of the dance floor, wearing a face like thunder.

As she reached the group, she heard Susan whisper, ‘Clarice, it takes a skilled liar to know when someone is not telling the truth. You didn't really think I fell for your cock and bull story about Charles Ashton, did you?'

The other guests wandered around, chatting and laughing. Anyone observing the small group gathered around Lord Langham would see nothing of particular note. A kindly father come to take his socially awkward daughter home; some friends to bid her farewell.

A single tear slid down Clarice's cheek as her father silently took her by the arm and led her away from the dance floor. Lady Alice rose from her chair, gathered Clarice's things and followed them out into the night.

David stood, hands clenched for as long as it took for the earl's party to leave. Lucy came to his side and after some convincing, he accepted that beating Thaxter Fox in the middle of a public gathering would not further his cause.

‘Time for a tactical retreat; causing a scene will get you nowhere,' she said.

She took him by the arm and they walked together through the open garden doors and out onto the moonlit terrace.

Once outside and away from other guests, David released his pent-up fury.

‘Bloody fool!' he swore.

‘He only thinks he is doing what is right for his daughter,' Lucy replied, ignoring her brother's uncouth tongue.

He shook his head.

‘Not Langham. Me. I'm the fool. I went too far. I should have stolen Clarice away and brought her out here, but no, I had to go and make a grand gesture in public. Once that filthy blackguard Fox showed Langham he was being challenged, Langham had no other option but to drag his daughter away.'

He leaned back against the wall of the house, and in the darkness rested his head against the cold Portland stone.

‘So what will you do now?' Lucy asked.

David sighed. His sister had removed her evening gloves and was nervously chewing on one of her fingernails. He might have been the one in love, but he knew Lucy was desperate for him to be successfully united with Clarice.

He pushed away from the wall, taking care not to strain his left side. Grasping Lucy's hand, he pulled it gently away from her lips.

‘Don't do that; you know how much it annoys Mama,' he chided.

‘Oh, what does a nail matter when your future is at stake?' she replied.

Lucy was always one for melodrama when it came to matters of the heart, but he had to agree: this time she was right. The life he had planned was predicated on Clarice as his wife. No-one else would do.

He brushed a kiss on Lucy's forehead. ‘Don't fret, dear sister; when did you ever know me to back away from a fight? I'm only just getting warmed up. There is plenty of time still in the season – time to convince Langham that Clarice belongs with me.'

‘Yes, of course,' Lucy replied, clearly unconvinced.

‘Come on, let's go back inside. The last thing I want is for either Thaxter Fox or bloody Susan Kirk to think they have ruined my evening.'

Clarice dressed early the following morning, fully intent on escaping Langham House and seeing Lucy. After last night's humiliation, she needed to think things through.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, she heard raised voices coming from behind the door of the sitting room. Her father and Lady Alice were having a heated row.

She sighed. It didn't take much guessing as to the reason for their discord.

‘I cannot believe you took her in hand in such a public way! You verily dragged your daughter from the ballroom and out into the night. How on earth do you expect her to show her face in society after that?' Lady Alice shouted.

‘I don't!' the earl bellowed.

Clarice opened the door and was met by the sight of her father and grandmother facing off against each other like gladiators. Her father, hands clenched by his sides, faced his mother, while Lady Alice leaned on her walking stick and glared at him.

Clarice stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, praying that the household servants had made themselves scarce.

‘What do you mean, I won't be out in society?' she asked.

The earl shook his head, and let out a loud huff of frustration. He came to Clarice and took hold of her hand.

‘I'm sorry about last night, Clarice; I should have handled matters in a more delicate fashion. But as you and your grandmother had openly defied me I had little other option,' he said.

Lady Alice harrumphed loudly. The earl shot her a look to freeze the River Thames before turning back to Clarice.

‘My lack of social decorum aside, removing you from the party was for your own good. I am concerned that matters are developing in your life and you are not in control of your faculties,' he said, patting her gently on the shoulder. With Lady Alice armed and ready to go to war with him, her father had clearly decided that gentle tactics were in order if peace was to be restored.

‘Papa, there is nothing wrong with me,' she said.

He gave her one of his kind smiles. The one that really meant
my poor, dear, mixed-up little girl.
He took her in his arms and wrapped her up in a fatherly hug.

Once his embrace had meant comfort and protection; now it only made her angry. She pulled away and took a step back, glaring at him.

‘You humiliated me last night; you had no right!'

Lord Langham closed his eyes and took a deep breath. At that moment Clarice would have given anything for her father to lose his temper with her. If he did, she could release the rage that simmered just below her calm exterior, consuming him in its wake.

He held out a hand. Dejected, she took it.

‘Good girl. Now, I have spoken with Mr Fox and he has apprised me of various matters, which concern me greatly. I know you think me harsh, but I have decided that the best thing under the current circumstances is to send you home to the country.'

‘No,' Clarice whimpered. ‘Please, Papa don't send me away.'

‘Henry, no, that's not fair!' Lady Alice cried.

He looked from his disappointed daughter to his outraged mother.

‘I will not have my decisions or my motives challenged by either of you. Common sense must prevail. Clarice, your grandmother will take you home to Norfolk. While you await my arrival at Langham Hall I hope you will contemplate your future. You leave today.
That
is my final word.'

Clarice looked at Lady Alice, who closed her eyes in silent resignation. There was no point in arguing with the earl when he was in this kind of mood.

‘But it's still the season! What about my friends? What will they think?' she asked.

What about David?

‘I don't care for the good opinion of your so-called friends, Clarice; you are my only concern. Please realise that you are not being punished. I am simply doing what I think is right for you. Trust me, someday you will thank me for this,' her father replied flatly.

‘Why does everyone think they need to control my life for me? I might as well go back to Norfolk and stay there. You won't let me choose my friends; you won't even let me decide whom I should love. You won't let me live,' she said. Her lungs seized and she began to gasp for air.

The room started to spin slowly and Clarice reached out a desperate hand to steady herself. The room spun faster and faster as she clutched at thin air. Then her eyes rolled back and blackness overtook her.

Her last recollection was that of her father's strong arms wrapped tightly around her as she sank into his embrace.

‘
No
 . . .'

David arrived at Langham House at the stroke of one o'clock the following afternoon. If ever he were to gain an audience with Clarice's father, he knew he had to adhere to the strict rules of society. A true gentleman would not dare to call at a private residence any earlier in the day, especially in the middle of the season.

A footman showed him to a small reception room just off the front entrance and, after taking David's calling card, asked him to wait. Within a minute or so, the door of the room opened and David found himself in the presence of Lord Langham.

‘Lord Langham, I would —' David said before the earl cut him off with a raised hand.

‘Young man, I will not allow you to court my daughter. You may think poorly of me, as others no doubt do, but I will protect Clarice, no matter what the cost. If you truly hold any kind of affection for my daughter, I would ask that you do the right thing by her and cease your attentions.'

He offered David back his calling card, at which David shook his head.

‘Please, I would like Clarice to have it; for her to know that I have called.'

The earl looked at him for a moment then put the card on the mantelpiece.

‘Clarice is not here to accept your card. I have sent her home to my estate in Norfolk. It was foolish of her to offer your suit any encouragement. With luck, by the time she returns to London, she will have seen the error of her ways. My daughter is not for the likes of you. Good day to you, Mr Radley.'

And with that curt dismissal, he turned on his heel and left the room. The footman quickly returned and silently ushered David out the front door.

As the door closed firmly behind him, David pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time. He had been inside Langham House for less than five minutes, and his hopes lay in tatters.

As he put the watch back into his pocket, he was suddenly possessed by an almost overwhelming urge to climb back into his carriage, head to White's and quickly find his way to the bottom of a whisky bottle. His driver climbed down and opened the door of his carriage.

David took two steps before he stopped and checked himself. He waved his driver away. ‘Thank you, but I feel the need to walk; I shall hail a hack if I decide otherwise,' he said.

Henry Langham went back upstairs to his study, which overlooked the street. At the window nearest to his desk he watched as David made his way along Mill Street, crossing over at John Street. He pressed a single finger against the glass of the window, covering David's retreating figure. When he removed his finger, David was a tiny speck in the distance. He stepped back from the window and lightly clasped his hands behind his back.

‘Now then, Mr Radley, let me see what you are truly made of, because only the tested and bloodied hero can lay claim to the greatest prize.'

He turned from the window and went back to his work.

The midsummer rain fell steadily down, soaking David's black formal breeches and chilling his skin. If he had cared, he would have taken shelter out of the wet, but with his attention focused on the tight anger in his chest, rational thought eluded him.

A door opened and closed behind him. A scuff of boots on the stone steps preceded a familiar shape as it entered his peripheral vision.

Alex took a seat on the step next to David.

‘I could say something about you not living here any more, but from the look on your face, I think this is the best place for you,' Alex said.

David sucked in a deep breath and looked away, his gaze focusing on a broken hinge on the stable door at the rear of the yard.

‘You should get that fixed,' he replied, nodding toward the door.

‘Yes, of course.'

If only everything else in the world were as easy to repair as a rusted hinge.

He turned to his brother. Alex had least had the good sense to put on a coat before he came out into the rain. His blond hair was hidden beneath a top hat, giving him the look of a coachman. David scowled. He had taken his own hat off and it was sitting upturned beside him on the step, slowly gathering raindrops.

‘Joining the four-in-hand club, are we?' he said. ‘I didn't think your good lady wife would allow you that.'

Alex looked down at his coat and chuckled. ‘I grabbed the first thing I could find on the hook at the back door; this must belong to my new coachman.'

‘How did you know I was here?' David asked. After leaving Langham House, he had walked. Taking what little was left of his pride, he knew he needed a very long walk. Whether by subconscious design or sheer happenstance, his meandering journey had ended at the mews at the rear of the house he had until recently shared with Alex.

‘Millie saw you from the sitting room upstairs and came to find me. I was going to wait until you knocked on the door, but since it started to rain and you didn't move an inch I thought it better that I come and collect you,' Alex replied.

David shifted uncomfortably on the hard stone step, noticing the rain for the first time. He frowned at the large muddy puddle that had formed at the bottom of the steps. From the size of the dirty brown mess, it had been raining for quite some time. He looked up at the grey skies and snorted. The gloomy day matched his mood perfectly.

‘She's gone,' he muttered.

‘Where?' Alex replied.

‘Norfolk. Langham sent Clarice to bloody Norfolk.'

Alex landed a heavy, consoling slap to David's thigh.

‘Well, at least it's not Scotland. If you do decide to go after her, you will have only half the journey ahead of you that I had to make,' he replied.

‘You conveniently seem to forget that I also made the mad dash back to London in order to save your heart after Millie rejected you, Alex, so please grant me a boon and shut up.'

No amount of sympathy or humour from his brother was going to lift him out of the dark depths in which he currently resided. It began to rain even harder, ensuring that whatever part of him had managed to avoid the previous downpour was now thoroughly soaked.

‘Can we please go inside? The way my luck is running today, I am likely to catch a cold and be dead by morn,' David said, getting to his feet. Alex nodded and stood. David bent down and picked up his hat, tipping it over and letting the water run out.

‘A hatful of rain; could it get any worse?' he said.

Alex turned and opened the door, ushering David inside.

‘Come on, then; I think a couple of stiff whiskies and an afternoon in our sitting room is in order. Lingering out here getting soaked to the skin won't do you or anyone else any good,' Alex replied.

David staggered to his bed somewhere around three the following morning. Alex and Millie had offered for him to sleep at Bird Street, but he'd insisted he had to go home. The evening spent with his brother, mulling over the earl's rejection of his suit and the sudden disappearance of Clarice while downing several bottles of good French wine, was exactly the tonic his heart needed.

Alex, who had made such a mess of his pursuit of Millie, was the only person whom David felt truly understood his own situation. Knowing the pain Alex had gone through as he struggled to convince Millie he was serious about marrying her had brought the Radley brothers even closer together.

‘You always knew there was a risk in pursuing Clarice,' Alex had said, as he poured them both another glass of wine.

David had taken the wine and stared at his own glum face, reflected in the glass.

‘Yes, of course; I just thought that since I now had something to offer her, Langham would relent. I can see I had allowed myself to become deluded. That for all my good intentions, I had stopped seeing the reality of the situation.'

‘Which is?'

‘He will never allow me to marry her. I have never been, nor will I ever be good enough for his daughter. Langham made his feelings clear, and just to ensure that I got the message, he sent her away.'

He swirled the glass and watched as his reflection blurred in the spinning wine.

The long evening of imbibing had taken the edge off his anger, but the humiliation still burned like acid in his mind. He had been illegitimate all his life, but today had been the first time he had truly felt he was less than a full member of the
ton
.

Alex sat forward in his chair. ‘So what will you do now? You are not going to admit defeat, are you?'

‘I don't know, which only goes to prove how poorly I had thought things through. What I do know is that I need to go home, get some sleep and pray that today was all a bad dream. Hopefully tomorrow I shall wake and none of this will have happened.'

He downed a large mouthful of the wine, and put the glass down. Getting to his feet, he suddenly felt the effect of the alcohol as a rush to the head. He swayed.

Alex offered a helping hand, but it was refused.

‘Thank you, but as I am still capable of speech, I should be able to find my way out of this room without assistance.'

He stopped. ‘The fact that you and I are sitting in this very room, as we did when your own life was such a mess, has not escaped me. My only regret is that you have had to return the favour.'

Alex shook his head. ‘It's so bloody unfair.' He threw an arm around David's shoulder. ‘Don't give up hope yet, dear brother; we Radleys have a knack of prevailing.'

David squinted as he struggled to focus his gaze on Alex's face.