Then she could cry.
"I've known from the start that you had your reasons for taking part in this ruse. You never made any untrue claims or…or…"
Oh drat. She'd made the mistake of meeting his eyes again.
Where was she?
An awful silence fell.
Kit's gaze was oddly intense. Almost like he was searching her face for something. Perhaps some sign that she was angry, or…
Or perhaps heartbroken.
She lifted her chin and brightened her smile. He would find no such thing.
The duchess was also watching her. And goodness, between the two, she felt not unlike a butterfly pinned under glass for examination.
Resisting the urge to fidget in her seat, she instead reached for her teacup. As she sipped, she brought her mind back to the script she'd written.
It was a good one. Perhaps when she'd finished her story for Lucy, she'd try her hand as an amateur playwright.
The duchess said something about obligations and planning a response. Honestly, Clarissa missed most of it. She was too busy practicing her next line.
"I suspect there will be some more unpleasant gossip," Clarissa said. "And perhaps some pitying looks. But I assure you, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before."
"That doesn't make it acceptable," Kit said.
His voice was so rough, she looked over in surprise. There was no charming smile. No laughter.
It was odd to see him so serious. But then again, she hadn't known him long. And she clearly hadn't known him well.
His mistress had no doubt seen this side of him.
She banished the thought before it could take hold.
She could feel his eyes on her, but this time she resisted the urge to meet his stare.
"Lady Clarissa." The duchess's voice was careful. "I feel responsible for putting you in this position."
It was the sympathy in the other woman's tone that did it. It banished the threat of tears and had her shoulders squaring. "I appreciate your concern, Your Grace. But you are not to blame. And I am not as helpless as you both seem to think."
The words came out steady and clear, and she was proud of them. This was what she'd come here to say, and she would see this through.
"I may not be a diamond of the first water. Nor am I as polished as I perhaps ought to be." She pressed on before either could interrupt with some well-meaning reassurance. "But I am an earl's daughter, and I am fully capable of weathering some gossip."
She set the teacup down again. "I appreciate your kindness and concern, but I will take charge of my reputation and marriage prospects from here, if you please."
But it was not a request, and they all knew it.
No one tried to argue with her. If anything, Clarissa was fairly certain that there was a glow of admiration in the duchess's eyes.
Kit was staring at her with an expression she refused to name.
Even if she named it, she'd likely be wrong. It was time to admit that she was a truly abominable judge of men. She'd been fooled twice now. The first time had perhaps not been solely her fault. Edmund had made promises. She hadn't made that up.
But Kit…
Kit had told her no lies. He'd made her no promises. It was she who'd made the mistake. There was no one else to blame for her folly this time.
