Not a particularly useful prince. He hadn't rescued anyone or slain anything. He'd simply appeared at the edge of the forest with a very nice smile and offered to show the princess the way through.
The horse didn't trust him. He was very vocal about this.
But the prince was charming, Clarissa wrote. And handsome. And he had a way of making the princess laugh. And more than all of that… He was kind.
That was the part that surprised the princess most.
It wasn't until she'd nearly run out of ink that Clarissa stopped writing and stared at the page.
She reread what she wrote, and told herself, very firmly—this was just a story.
12
Something was different about Clarissa tonight.
Kit couldn't pinpoint what it was at first. She was wearing a gown he hadn't seen before, ivory with some sort of blue detail. There was a matching ribbon in her hair and her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the ballroom as she spoke with Estella.
But it wasn't the gown or the ribbon or the flush that struck him as different. It was the smile she wore.
It was the same one he'd come to recognize from those moments when others weren't watching. In short, it was her real smile, easy and unguarded.
She wore it now as she spoke animatedly with Estella. Whatever they were discussing, it required a great deal of hand movements from Clarissa, and it had Estella's head falling back with laughter.
Kit found himself grinning as well even though he couldn't hear a word of it.
That smile, though. It was gorgeous. He always loved catching glimpses of it. Of course, he preferred when he was the recipient, and yet… He found it was just as beautiful when he spied it from across the room.
That smile made him think of the coaching inn girl.
He crossed the room to greet her, already composing something suitably ridiculous about moonlight and rose petals. But when he reached her and she turned that smile on him, what came out was, "You look lovely."
Clarissa's brows rose. "That's it? No comparisons to the stars in the heavens? Or some flower reference, perhaps?"
"The evening is young," he said. "I'm pacing myself."
She laughed. And Kit felt something turn over in his chest with a heavy thud.
The only problem was—he wasn't the only one who'd noticed the change in her. As the evening wore on, Kit became aware that his weren't the only eyes following Clarissa around the ballroom.
There were several gentlemen tracking her progress across the room as surely as a hunter stalks its prey.
And that was good, he reminded himself. That was the point.
Three weeks of Kit's public devotion had done its work. The whispers had shifted. The invitations had multiplied. And now the ton, having been told by Kit's attention that Clarissa was worth noticing, had started to notice her for themselves.
Which was the plan. He took a drink and reminded himself of that. It was exactly what he'd been paid to accomplish.
It was Pemberton's second son who approached first. He was a pleasant-faced young man who asked Clarissa about her family's estate with what appeared to be genuine interest. She answered him warmly. Too warmly, Kit thought, though he couldn't have explained what the correct temperature would have been.
Then it was Lord Hartley, a man of modest fortune and good reputation, who engaged her in a conversation about horticulture that lasted through the entire second set. Kit had walked away, so he wasn't entirely certain what turn the conversation took, only that the topic made Clarissa's face light up and her hands got involved.
Which meant she was enjoying the conversation enough to forget her composure. And whatever it was she was saying, Hartley leaned in, listening with apparent interest.
Lord Alderton's voice came from beside him. "Out of curiosity, has Lord Hartley offended you in some way?"
Kit blinked in surprise to find Clarissa's brother there. "Pardon?"
Alderton's expression was one of a man trying not to show how amused he was. And he was failing.
