He leaned over. "It's brilliant. Go on."
"She'd need an ally," she said.
"That hero seems like he'd help," he offered.
She made a face that had him swallowing a laugh. "Oh no. She needs someone practical who could help her navigate the escape. Maybe the villain's henchman, who's secretly kind and has been slipping her bread through the dungeon grate."
He considered that, though he couldn't recall the henchman in the opera doing much more than hovering behind the caped villain. "The henchman," he mused. "Not the handsome prince?"
"The prince hasn't done anything useful yet." Clarissa said this as though she hated to admit it. But no one could argue the point. "He is very handsome, but not what one needs in a crisis."
Kit bit the inside of his cheek. "In your stories for Lucy, does the princess have a prince?"
She turned to him and her expression said he was a fool to ask. "She has a talking horse."
"I see," he said. "I suppose that's better than most princes."
"Considerably." Her smile crept back. "The horse gives excellent advice."
He laughed. Quietly, of course, since they were at the opera, and Mrs. Lennox was truly intimidating. But he was heartened to see Clarissa's shoulders shake a little as well.
He very nearly shot Lord Alderton a smug look. See? he wanted to say. Clarissa and I can share a laugh as well.
He resisted the urge. And then the soprano launched into another aria and Kit let the music fill the silence.
He glanced up at his father's box. His father was focused on the stage. And this time, when Kit sank back in his seat, he didn't have to pretend to be at ease.
9
The picnic was Estella's idea, but it had the duchess's fingerprints all over it.
"It's just a small gathering," Estella had said that morning when she'd called on Clarissa at John's townhouse. "Lady Pemberton hosts one every year in Richmond. Everyone goes. It'll be lovely."
Clarissa soon discovered that while the picnic was indeed lovely, it was neither small nor particularly picnic-like.
It was an elaborate outdoor affair spread across a sweeping lawn, complete with pavilions, servants carrying trays of cold meats and iced lemonade, and nearly a hundred members of polite society pretending to enjoy the grass.
"There are ants," Mrs. Lennox observed soon upon arrival.
Clarissa bit her lip to keep from smiling.
They'd found a spot near a large oak, which Mrs. Lennox approved of on the grounds that it provided shade and a clear view of all approaching persons. Estella spread a blanket. Clarissa arranged herself on it with her ankles tucked neatly to one side and her hands folded in her lap.
New Clarissa had arrived, and she was silent.
It lasted approximately four minutes.
"Oh, look at the ducks!" She was pointing before she could stop herself. A line of them was waddling across the lawn with tremendous purpose, heading for the lake. "There must be eight—no, nine. The little one at the back is having trouble keeping up. Do you think he's all right? He seems smaller than the others. Maybe he was the runt. I had a runt kitten once who?—"
She stopped. "Er…sorry."
Mrs. Lennox seemed to be assessing the ducks as a potential threat. But Estella was watching her with warm amusement. "One should never apologize for noticing ducks." The laughter in her eyes had Clarissa smiling back at her.
Before she could respond, a familiar voice called across the lawn. "Lady Clarissa! And Miss Hale. What a delightful surprise!"
Kit was striding toward them with his arms spread wide and wearing an expression of such astonished pleasure, Clarissa had to bite her lip to stifle a laugh.
"Lord Stratton." Estella played her part with admirable composure. "How unexpected."
