Guilt hit him like a physical blow. He'd gone about this all wrong. No, he hadn't expected the ton to get wind of Clementine, but he should have been prepared for it. He should have hidden her better, or kept his distance from Clarissa and found some other way, or?—
The duchess set down her teacup and the sound jarred him out of his spiraling thoughts.
She nodded toward the seat beside Clarissa. "Sit down, Kit. We have much to discuss."
16
Clarissa had rehearsed this.
She'd stood before her mirror that morning, and she'd practiced a brief speech. She would thank the duchess for her patronage. She would acknowledge Kit's efforts. And then she would explain, with composure and grace, that the arrangement had run its course.
And then she would leave.
No babbling. No questions. And most of all—no tears.
She lifted her chin as Kit entered and reminded herself for the twentieth time since she'd heard his footsteps in the foyer that she was in control.
At this moment she was New Clarissa at her finest.
Kit settled into the chair beside her. She could feel his eyes on her, and her heart seemed to pound harder in response. But she ignored that.
The way her heart raced whenever he was near meant nothing. Just as their time together had meant nothing. Nothing real, at least.
"Clarissa—" Kit began.
"Before we start." She set down her teacup carefully. "I'd like to say something."
Kit closed his mouth. The duchess watched her over her own cup with an unreadable expression.
"I want to thank you both," she said. "Your Grace, your patronage has been extraordinarily generous. And Kit—" She allowed herself to look at him, just long enough to deliver the line she'd practiced. "You've been very kind. I'm grateful for the time and effort you've invested."
Kit flinched. Good. Perhaps it was petty, but she was glad to see his discomfort.
"However." She continued with the same smile she'd practiced in the mirror. "I think we can all agree that the arrangement has run its course. The circumstances have…changed."
A torrent of questions and accusations built up inside her. She had to swallow hard to keep them at bay. Kit leaned forward as if he might interrupt, but she would not let him. With an upheld hand, she cut him off before he'd even begun.
Really. She'd rehearsed for hours, for heaven's sake. She would finish this.
"I think the best thing for everyone is to end it here." She said it with finality, and only then did she allow herself to exhale.
There. It was done. She'd done it.
But rather than satisfaction, she felt a swell of unwanted emotion. She bit the inside of her cheek with enough force to taste blood. She would not cry. Not in front of the duchess, and most definitely not in front of Kit.
"Clarissa." The duchess leaned forward, her tone more gentle than Clarissa had ever heard it. "We owe you?—"
"I appreciate your concern, Your Grace." Clarissa was aware it was likely rude beyond measure to interrupt, but an apology was more than she could bear at the moment. Her smile held, and for that she was grateful. "But I think this is the right decision."
Kit shifted in his chair. "If you'd let me explain?—"
"There's nothing to explain," she said. It was possible she'd exuded too much warmth there. Her smile was perhaps too broad. But better to be overly pleasant than to cry. That was what she told herself as she forced herself to meet Kit's gaze.
She instantly wished she hadn't, because her neatly strung together words suddenly fell into a jumble at the concern and regret in those sparkling blue eyes.
She swallowed hard. Where was she? Oh yes. "You have your situation, my lord. And while it is indeed regrettable that the ton is spreading gossip about us both, I have no doubt it was not your intention."
There. That was what she had to say. It cut off any apology before it could begin. She wet her lips. Now, to put an end to this once and for all. And then she could leave.
