Really, Beau was a most unsatisfying audience.


She'd consider him because he held Irish lands? Ridiculous. Absurd. She'd consider him-by God, she'd have him-for more reason than that. He had lands, yes, and income, and title-all important when making a match, and there was no shame for it to be considered bluntly and in the bold light of day. But for such a girl to weigh him on the scales of matrimonial worth and find him acceptable because of Irish lands and nothing more was… insulting.

He knew his worth. He was a well-built man with regular features and a not unpleasing manner. He'd had his share of victories with women, broken a heart or two when all was said and done; he'd be considered for more than his land. She'd take him for more than his land. And what was more, she'd admit it. He'd not have her marrying him with Irish lands in her thoughts.

If she married him. Beau frowned and silently cursed Dalton and his serpent's tongue. And when he had calmed himself, he cursed Dalton again. It wouldn't do for a brother of hers to be against the match; it was hard for a girl to go against her brother, though Clarissa looked the sort to do as she pleased when it pleased her. That stood in his favor. She was pleased by him, hide it though she would. He was not so dull as not to sense a woman's interest in the very texture of his skin, and when he was near Clarissa Walingford, his skin very nearly burned. There was more to that than Irish lands.

Beau grunted and tugged at his cravat. Were all the brothers against a match between Walingford and Montwyn?

"Beau," Lindley said, interrupting his thoughts. "Didn't think to see you today," he said, stopping, urging Beau to stop his striding walk. Beau stopped. Lindley looked eager to see him. Lindley looking completely eager was something.

"No, well, I was out… shopping," Beau said with a tight smile.

"Yes, well," Lindley said haltingly, "I didn't know if you'd been invited to the Blakelys' tonight."

Beau said nothing; he merely waited, almost joyous at the look of eagerness on Lindley's face. Lindley was clearly not against the match, but Lindley might be alone in that.

"Should be an enjoyable evening," Lindley said. "Clarissa will be there. I hope to see you too."

"I haven't made my plans for the evening as yet," Beau said cordially. He would not so boldly reveal his interest in Clarissa, not with so many uncertainties. It would not do for word of his intent to get back to Clarissa, feeding a confidence he did not want her to feel. This matter of the Irish lands would be settled.

"Really?" Lindley said, his own irritation mounting and displaying itself on his face. "I wish you a pleasant evening, whatever your diversion."

"Thank you," Beau said. "And you as well."

Both men parted, one newly frustrated and one with renewed confidence. Beau was more than happy to pass his frustration regarding Clarissa off to Lindley, old friend though he was.

Chapter Three

She would wear the lavender silk tonight, and for jewels… Perry came in as she was deliberating.

"What do you think, Perry? The amethyst necklace or the pearl? I cannot decide," she said, turning in her chair, her hands holding each selection aloft.

"I prefer the amethyst. All that sparkle," he said, sitting down on a chair near her dressing table.

"Yes, so much easier to attract a husband when one 'sparkles,'" she said, laying down the pearl necklace and arranging the amethysts around her exposed throat.

Another evening to be spent shopping for a husband. She sighed and checked the arrangement of her hair in the mirror. It was so much more pleasurable shopping for books. She had been reading her new book on the Peloponnesian wars all afternoon, and now her eyes were stinging with fatigue, but she had to go out tonight.

Actually, reading about battle was the perfect preparation for facing a roomful of Englishmen. Especially Montwyn. Would he be there? She smiled at her reflection, her brown eyes dancing with confidence. Of course he would be there. The idea of battling with him was the only excitement she would have all evening, and she was almost counting on him to make her night at the Blakelys' worthwhile. She could entertain herself with him while looking elsewhere for a husband.

"You sparkle enough without the aid of any jewels, Clarissa," Perry said. "Montwyn seems fairly dazzled."

He did, actually, and she hid her smile of satisfaction in the drawing on of a glove.

"Did you see him today?" she asked casually.

"Montwyn, you mean?"

She gave him a cross look for his clumsy attempt to rile her.

Perry shrugged and said, "Sorry. Yes, actually. Jane and I bumped into him on our way to the milliner's. Jane let it be known that you were at Lackington's-ridiculous if you ask me, since we weren't talking of Lackington's at all-and off he went. You saw him there?"

"Yes," she said, standing and smoothing her skirt. "He was at Lackington's."

"He must be interested if he ran off there on just a word from Jane."

"Of course he's interested," Clarissa said with a smile of satisfaction.

"But you're not," Perry said, standing with her, his face serious. "I think Montwyn rather rude and certainly inordinately proud."

"Inordinately? Oh, I think him proud to an uncivil degree, but his pride may be well deserved," Clarissa reluctantly defended.

"I've seen Montwyn Hall," Perry said. "There's enough pride for ten heirs in the Montwyn title. But there's more to a man than his house."

"Of course. There are his lands," Clarissa said firmly. "A man must have good land, good Irish land."

"And naught else?" Perry asked. "You seem interested in Montwyn, with or without Irish lands."

"I am not interested," she said, searching for a fan.

At Perry's skeptical look, she said, "I am not. Have more faith in me, Perry. I have more sense than to choose such a man. He is too-" she shrugged-"bold a man. I am looking for a man who'll burrow quietly in London and leave me contentedly in Ireland. There is nothing quiet about Montwyn, and he would never be able to content me."

"I agree with you," Perry said, standing near her bedroom door. "I wish I could believe you. You do sparkle when he's near, Clarissa, and I know that look in you. More, I think Montwyn to be a man attracted to bright resistance. And you are just that."

"I fear I have not been complimented," she said.

"Smart girl," he said with a grin. "Sparkle all night, dear, for I will be at your elbow throughout the evening. Montwyn shall not have you to himself."

"Thank you for that, Perry," she said. "Now I must do the final touches to myself. I'll meet you downstairs."

Perry left, but he did not like the glitter in Clarissa's dark eyes whenever Montwyn's name was mentioned. And she had fairly glowed when she had learned that Montwyn had followed her to Lackington's. She was a sharp girl, quick in both thoughts and actions, but she might have come up against her match with Montwyn. He was a formidable man, experienced, proud, determined. It was an uncomfortable contemplation that Montwyn might have determined to have Clarissa.

Russell was just coming up to change for the evening as Perry was going down.

"You going with us?" Perry asked.

"Yes, I thought I would," Russell said, his tone more serious than usual.

Stabbing in the dark, Perry said, "You saw Montwyn today?"

Russell looked startled for a moment and then nodded, "I did. When I was with Clarissa at Lackington's. Odd the way they spoke to each other. Rude. But they seemed to like it."

Perry, only a year younger than Russell, nodded and then shook his head in worry.

"What do you make of him, Russell?"

Russell rested his hand on the banister and studied the ceiling plaster. "I've made discreet inquiries. He's a bit wild, or was until he came into his title. Gets out a bit. Travels. Has seen hard duty in his regiment, but Lindley could tell you more, since they met when they both wore the uniform. Not quite a regular man, they say. Harder. Prouder. Perhaps even fierce, in a quiet sort of way."

"Not the sort I'd choose for Clarissa," Perry said.

"Nor I," Russell agreed. "It's that wildness that concerns me. Doesn't do for a man to leave his wife at home while he carouses."

"But he's not married yet," Perry said, "and you know him from your own carousing."

"True." Russell grinned. "But would he want me to marry his sister, if he had one? Probably not."

"You've seen them together," Perry stated. "She's different with him."

"No, I don't agree. She's completely herself. Completely Clarissa."

"Exactly," Perry said. "Why? She hardly knows him. Why would she be so bold with him, unless she's drawn to him, feels something-"

"Not all bad to feel something for the man she might marry."

"Marry Montwyn? I don't think so. Steel against steel, the two of them. And I think he may be scaring off other suitors, leaving her with little choice but him."

"He's scaring off the suitors she's not scaring off herself?" Russell laughed.

Perry shrugged and said reluctantly, "Point taken. She is not showing her best to the London lads, as she calls them."

"Yet Montwyn-"

"Montwyn isn't put off by her manner at all," Perry finished.

Perry and Russell looked into each other's eyes in full comprehension-and with no comfort.


The evening's entertainment was a ball and it was lovely. The music, the candlelight, the colors of gowns and jewels and bouquets, were all lovely. Memorable. A sweet winter's night for a maid to cherish when she was old and fragile and lounging on her chaise in some cold and distant future. Clarissa knew it would be so. She would remember this night, this beautiful night of dancing and music, for years.