But you'll only end up disappointing the man who falls for you.
But you won't be able to keep up this New Clarissa act forever.
She prepared herself for something of that nature, but when he spoke, that wasn't what he said at all. "But Kit is very charming, and he's very…" He took a deep breath. "Convincing."
It took a moment for his meaning to register. When it did, it came with a swell of humiliation.
Ah, so that was it. He was worried she'd be fooled…again.
She swallowed hard. "You need not worry. I know what's real."
"Do you?" His voice was gentle. "Because you came home yesterday humming, Clarissa. And when I asked what had you in such good spirits, you talked about Kit for twenty minutes."
Had she? She didn't recall it being twenty minutes. Ten, perhaps. Fifteen at most.
Oh dear.
"He's amusing," she said. "That's all. We're…" She grappled for the right word to describe this new relationship, and found herself a little startled when she settled on, "Friends." She considered it and said it again with more certainty. "We're friends, that's all."
The concern in his eyes made her feel like a fool. "He's being paid, Clarissa."
She flinched. "I know that."
But it was possible she'd forgotten. Or if not forgotten… It hadn't been on her mind. She'd been having too much fun, and it rarely came up in their conversations.
"I know you know," John continued. "I just want to make sure you remember it." He moved closer, his eyes so gentle it made her chest ache. "Kit seems like a decent man. I genuinely believe that. But the attention, the compliments, the way he looks at you in public—that's what he was hired to do. And you…" He hesitated. "I just don't want to see you hurt, that's all."
She suspected he'd cut himself off from what he'd been about to say. He'd likely been thinking of Edmund and how she'd been fooled by him.
Edmund had seemed sincere. Edmund had smiled when she'd rambled, and told her she was beautiful when she knew full well she was no great beauty. Edmund had listened patiently to her stories and nodded at all the right moments, and she…
Well, she'd mistaken patience for love.
And now here was Kit, who laughed at her jokes and asked about her stories and looked at her as though she were the most fascinating creature in any room. And the terrible thing was…she wanted to believe it was true.
She'd like to think his laughter was genuine, and his kindness was not a facade.
But wanting something to be true was not the same as it being true. And perhaps John was right to remind her.
"I haven't forgotten," she said quietly. "I promise."
John studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Good." He gave her another smile. "I'll be back for dinner."
The door closed behind him. Clarissa stood in the hall trying very hard to sift through her feelings.
The trouble, she suspected, was that she'd never been a good liar. And yet here she was, in the middle of a lie so elaborate and convincing, she had lost track of what was actually true.
Because some of it felt true. That was the problem.
Oh certainly, Kit's exaggerated compliments were false. But when he teased her, and laughed with her, and listened to her stories… Well. That felt true. And when he'd said, "There she is" after she'd laughed too loudly at the picnic, the look in his eyes had felt painfully true.
But John was right. Kit was being paid. And Clarissa, of all people, should know better than to trust a performance. She'd fallen for Edmund's quiet sincerity. She would not be taken in by Kit's loud charm.
Later that night, she wrote to Lucy. The princess's story had been stalled for days. The last installment had ended with the princess and her talking horse trapped at the edge of a dark forest, debating whether to go through or around.
Clarissa picked up her pen. And before she quite knew what she was doing, she'd written a new character into the tale.
A prince.
