The Secretary (10 page)

As he led her through the lobby and up the stairs, people turned to stare. Anders tried to tell himself that it was because Miss Martin was so lovely, and not because she was on his arm, though in truth he knew that it was a little of both.

He nodded and paused to shake hands with a few peers, introducing Miss Martin as he did. When he mentioned her father, members nodded and looked sympathetic.

“Your father is greatly missed, Miss Martin,” the Earl of Granville said.

“Thank you, My Lord,” Miss Martin said, bowing her head slightly.

“Back from France, I take it,” Anders said to him. Granville was the long-suffering envoy to the French government from the court of St. James, though it seemed as though he spent just as much time being sent back to England as he did representing his country and king there.

“Back from France, going to France, or in between,” Granville chuckled. “Who knows the difference any longer?”

“We’ll look forward to seeing you in the House, then.”

“Ha! Not if I can help it.”

As Anders led Miss Martin away she said, “He didn’t really mean that, did he? About the House?” She sounded genuinely worried.

“He did not,” Anders assured her. “He’s a good Whig, but he has his hands rather full at the moment.”

“As long as we are discussing the subject of France, tell me, do you think the July Monarchy can really succeed?”

Anders remembered what Leo had said that afternoon. It had been true, every bit of it. No woman had yet been able to claim his heart, but this little intellectual was poised capture his mind with her talk of Norwegian independence and French politics. And if she could snare his intellect, she might just make a conquest of the rest as well. But Anders found that he didn’t care, and as he led her up the stairs he launched into a discussion of the Soult government. And she actually listened.

As they neared the box, Clarissa told herself to take deep breaths and not to look back. She knew what she would see if she did: the same thing she saw looking forward. Before they had been in the theatre five minutes it seemed to her that everyone there knew the Earl of Stowe was escorting the daughter of Jonah Martin, former MP, or at least that he was escorting a young lady they did not recognize. Several times she heard her name whispered as they neared a pocket of ladies. But it was only when one of the ladies actually called her name that she allowed herself to turn.

“Clarissa!”

It was Cynthia Endersby. The earl paused, casting her a questioning look. “She is an old friend, My Lord,” Clarissa said.

“Then, by all means, you must introduce me,” he smiled.

“Of course,” she said as Cynthia approached, hands held out for Clarissa to take. “Cynthia. Allow me to introduce the Earl of Stowe. Miss Cynthia Endersby.”

“It’s an honor, My Lord,” Cynthia said, curtseying prettily, her coppery curls bouncing. Her pastel green gown fit her to perfection, and as she smiled winsomely at the earl Clarissa could not help but feel a twinge of jealousy. This was the life she might have been leading even now.

“Cynthia’s father taught at Oxford with mine, My Lord,” she said.

“Another Oxford miss,” Lord Stowe groaned. “What’s a Cambridge man to do?”

“Surrender, My Lord,” Cynthia said, looking up at him through her lashes. Clarissa stared at her. She had not remembered her friend being such a determined flirt.

“Cynthia!” someone called, and she took Clarissa’s hands again.

“Will we see each other in the interval?”

“Of course,” Clarissa promised.

Laughing, Cynthia bounced away to join her party. The earl stared after her, and Clarissa felt an involuntary surge of loss. She had not seen Cynthia in two years or more, but the girl had become even more radiantly beautiful, if that was possible. Once, before Clarissa’s father had died, they had been the best of friends, attending society events together, spending summers in Oxford. She cast one last look after Cynthia and then allowed Lord Stowe to lead her to the box.

Inside, Lord Sidney and two women were already seated. All three turned and rose as the earl escorted her in. Lord Stowe introduced Lady Sidney and Lady Eleanor, Lord Sidney’s eldest sister, a striking blonde with the same coloring as her brother.

“Leo has told me how much he admired your father,” Lady Sidney said kindly. “I am sorry for your loss, but I am delighted to meet you.”

“Thank you, Lady Sidney. It’s so kind of you to include me in your party,” Clarissa added, though she knew Lady Sidney had had no say in the matter, and probably would not have protested even if she had. If Clarissa had had three grown daughters, she thought, she would never have passed up the chance for one of them to spend an evening with an eligible bachelor either, and Lord Stowe was probably one of the best catches in the
ton
this season. No, that was not exactly true.
Clarissa
would never have thrown any daughter of hers at a man—her father had taught her better. But she had no doubt that any society mama would.

Lady Eleanor begged Clarissa to sit beside her, and Lord Stowe took the seat on her other side, with Lord Sidney and his mother just beyond. The box was quite well situated, with a good view of the stage and, perhaps more importantly, of the other boxes. But Lady Eleanor ignored the keen gazes they were receiving from all around the theatre. “Tell me, Miss Martin, are you fond of Shakespeare?”

“Oh, yes,” Clarissa said. “And
Twelfth Night
is one of my favorites.”

“You will adore Mrs. Davis as Viola,” Lady Eleanor said. “She is one of my favorite performers. Do you often attend the theatre?”

“No,” Clarissa said, and Lady Eleanor blushed to the roots of her pale hair.

“Oh, Miss Martin, forgive me, that was an impertinent question.”

“Not at all,” Clarissa said, liking Lady Eleanor immensely for her lack of pretense. She had a kind, open and engaging manner, and as the lights dimmed, she found herself wondering why Lord Stowe had not seated himself beside the girl. Surely he knew of Lady Sidney’s intentions?

But when Mrs. Davis as Viola stepped onto the stage, she forgot all her concerns and lost herself in the beauty of the words. She thought of nothing more than the troubles of the characters until the lights came up again at the interval.

When the first act was over, Leo asked Miss Martin to take a turn in the corridor with him, and Lady Sidney saw a friend in another box she wished to visit. Anders took the hint and stayed where he was.

Eleanor smiled brightly at him. “Miss Martin is delightful, Anders,” she said. “I’m so glad you invited her.”

“Her father was a very respected colleague of ours,” Anders said. “She has become rather destitute since his death. I hope you will be kind to her, Eleanor. I think she has very few friends.”

“Well, I like her immensely.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Are you planning to offer for her? Oh, forgive me, that was another rude question.”

Anders laughed. “Yes, it was.”

“But now that I’ve asked it, you might as well answer. I am being eaten up by my curiosity.”

“I’m not planning to offer for her,” Anders said honestly. “I haven’t thought that far.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Do you know, I’ve barely spoken to her and yet I think she might be the only woman I’ve ever met who is intelligent enough for you?”

“Really, Eleanor.”

“Oh, I know mama has designs on you for one of us, but you and I both know it would never succeed. You think of us as little sisters, and we see you as a stern older brother. Who would want to be married to someone who saw one in swaddling-clothes?”

Anders said, “Thank you, Eleanor. I have been very worried about your sisters’ come-out, but now I know what to do. I’ll just imagine them in their cradles, smelly and red-faced.”

She laughed at that. “Be serious, Anders. Don’t let Miss Martin slip through your fingers. I think she’s a far better catch than the silly young ladies of the
ton
.”

The door to the box opened and Miss Martin came in, followed by Leo. “I’m beginning to get that impression, too,” Anders said as they took their seats.

Clarissa smiled as Lord Sidney introduced her to another peer she had already met in the halls of Parliament. If she wasn’t so fearful that someone might recognize her at any moment, she might have enjoyed the humor of meeting so many illustrious figures for the
second
time. But with every curtsey she made she began to realize that she had achieved her goal. Clarence Ford was invisible. He was not worth a second glance. And because he was so unassuming, it was still possible for Clarissa Martin to move about town without being recognized.

The only hard part was trying to remember the things Clarissa Martin wasn’t supposed to know. She had already given away a great deal with Lord Stowe, talking of Danish politics and the situation in Ireland. But she had always been fascinated by the things her father brought home from Parliament, and that hunger to learn had not vanished with his death. She had devoured the materials Lord Stowe was reading for his work, and she had to admit to enough vanity to want to impress him with what she knew.

Being on Lord Sidney’s arm made her realize something else, too. The thrill she had felt when Lord Stowe had slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow had not been due to his rank. As a viscount, Lord Sidney’s pedigree was every bit as good as his friend’s. But she did not feel the excitement that tingled from her lips to her toes when Lord Sidney touched her. She blushed to think of the way her heart had pounded as she had ridden alone in the carriage with Lord Stowe.

Then, suddenly, Cynthia was at her elbow. “Clarissa, darling, come and meet my friends. Oh, you look quite flushed, dear. Are you quite all right?”

“Yes, thank you,” she managed. “There are so many people here.”

“Will you introduce me to your friend, Miss Martin?” Lord Sidney asked. Clarissa obliged.

“It’s quite an honor to meet you, Lord Sidney,” Cynthia said breathlessly. “Is your sister Lady Eleanor here as well?”

“She is in our box, Miss Endersby,” Lord Sidney said, rather coolly, Clarissa thought. But he followed Cynthia to where the rest of her party was waiting and smiled politely as he and Clarissa were introduced to Mr. Boswell, Miss Cooke, and Lord Peter Helmsley, though Lord Peter was already known to him. For a few moments they chatted amiably about the play and the crush in the corridor, but then it was time to return to the box for the second act. Before they could, Cynthia took Clarissa’s hand once more.

“Everything is all right, Clarissa? You are not…that is, you are well?” She had an unreadable expression on her face.

“Yes, of course,” Clarissa said, unwilling to admit her troubles. Once she might have told Cynthia everything, but it felt as though the bond they had once shared was gone. She said goodbye and took Lord Sidney’s arm once more.

“Do you know Miss Endersby well?” he asked, making polite conversation as he escorted her.

“We were girls together. Her father taught history and mathematics at Oxford.”

“So you’re an Oxford girl, are you?” he asked wryly.

She smiled. “Lord Stowe said the same thing. I take it you both attended Cambridge?”

“We did, but more out of family tradition than desire. Both the Earls of Stowe and the Viscounts Sidney have always been educated at Eton and then at Cambridge.”

“I understand, My Lord. I believe many of my father’s students attended Oxford for the same reason. The weight of tradition is heavy, I know.”

“Indeed it is,” Lord Sidney said as he held the door for her and escorted her to her seat.

In the few minutes before the play resumed, she chatted with Lady Eleanor, who invited her to come to tea one afternoon. “We are at home Wednesdays and Fridays,” she said, and Clarissa promised to come if she could, though she knew very well there was little chance she would be able to get free.

Then the lights dimmed and Orsino appeared on the stage, wasting away for love of Lady Olivia. Once more Clarissa became lost in the magic of the play, until she felt a tug on her sleeve. She looked over at Lord Stowe, but his attention was fixed on the stage as well.

Then she looked down.

He had crossed his arms over his chest, and with his right hand he had taken the fabric of her puffed sleeve between his fingers, toying absently with it. He seemed to have no idea he was doing it, and the movement felt so natural that she wasn’t ashamed to let him continue. But as she turned her attention back to the stage, she was painfully aware of his fingers on the smooth fabric, of the gentle tug as he played with the satin. The gown was rather precariously perched on her shoulders, and she wondered now how hard he would have to tug to pull it down. The thought made her face warm, and her breath caught in her throat.

He started at the sound and looked down, realizing what he was doing. “Forgive me, Miss Martin,” he whispered. She waved her hand through the air in a gesture of forgiveness without looking away from the play, certain that if she did he would see her flush even in the low light. Fortunately, no one else appeared to have noticed his
faux pas
.

When the play came to an end, she said goodnight to Lord Sidney and his family and allowed Lord Stowe to lead her back to his carriage. They said little during the ride home, the electric charge crackling through the air between them doing quite enough talking. When he handed her out of the carriage, her face came very close to his.

“Thank you, Lord Stowe. I don’t know when I last enjoyed an evening so much.”

“The pleasure was mine, Miss Martin,” he said, clutching her hand in his. He smiled warmly and lifted her hand, eyes still fixed on hers. When he kissed the fabric of her glove she felt the touch of his lips all the way to her toes. “Perhaps I might call again on Sunday? I’d like to take you for a drive in Hyde Park if I may.”

No, no, no
, the voice in her mind cried. “Of course, Lord Stowe,” she heard herself say. “I would enjoy that very much.”

Then he was gone, and she climbed the stairs to her dark little flat.