Clarissa let Estella lead her around the room. She seemed so at ease in this crowd, smiling and nodding to acquaintances as they passed. She was equally grateful when Estella skirted the group of young ladies with Lady Arabella at the center.
It wasn't that she was afraid of them. But she didn't need to rush into the lion's den on her very first foray into society, now did she?
But as she was watching, she saw a small group of gentlemen approach the young women. Her eyes caught on one familiar face in particular.
It was him. She'd recognize him anywhere. That smiling man from the coaching inn. He moved through the crowd like he owned this ballroom. Women turned as he passed. Men clapped his shoulder.
He was handsome beyond measure—and he very clearly knew it. He had dark blonde hair that seemed artfully mussed, and a smile that would make any woman stop in her tracks.
He even managed to make the crew of giggling debutantes go temporarily silent as he sidled up next to Lady Arabella. They made quite a pair. Both so tall and striking.
His eyes moved in her direction just then. Their gazes locked, and for a moment her heart hammered loudly against her rib cage.
His smile quirked up on one side. Had he recognized her? He tipped his glass in a silent hello.
Just like that it came back to her. How happy she'd been that day. How eager and excited and…
Silly. So dreadfully silly.
She looked away quickly. Perhaps even rudely, as she hadn't given the slightest sign of acknowledgement in return.
"Is he a friend of yours?" Estella asked. Because of course she'd noticed the devastatingly handsome man as well.
Clarissa shook her head. "I'm not acquainted."
"That's the Earl of Stratton, I believe. Heir to the Duke of Ashworth," Estella said.
Clarissa nodded and clamped her mouth shut. Of course he was heir to a duke.
"I cannot say I know him," Estella said. "I heard he's only just arrived in town."
Clarissa turned just in time to see him flash that dimpled smile at a blushing debutante. Now there was a man who knew how to play to a crowd.
She saw his head fall back with a laugh at something Lady Arabella had said.
Maybe she'd told him all about Cast-Off Clarissa.
Mortification rose up hot and sickening.
"He's very handsome, is he not?" Estella's voice was amused, and Clarissa realized she'd been staring. Again.
She looked away. "He seems…very pleased with himself."
"Mmm." Estella laughed. "I suppose most heirs to dukedoms usually are."
Clarissa smiled at that. She had a feeling she and Estella would make fine friends indeed.
4
The Duchess of Ashworth leaned back in her chair. The letter from her hired investigator was not encouraging.
Trail gone cold. Last confirmed sighting, Paris, six weeks prior. No forwarding address. No known associates in the area willing to speak.
Will continue inquiries, but must advise Your Grace to prepare for the possibility that Mr. Barrington has left the Continent.
Left the Continent, Mr. Hartwell had written. Which meant her sister's husband could be anywhere. He could even now be in England. Which meant?—
She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Now was not the time to panic. So she drew in three more deep, steadying breaths and then folded the letter, locking it in the drawer with the others.
