He narrowed his eyes teasingly. "All of them?"
"Every last one." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "But I have a counteroffer."
He leaned back to study her. "I'm listening."
"No more secrets," she said. "I know why you kept the truth from me. I understand, Kit. But if we're going to do this, then I need to know that you're being honest with me. Even when it's hard."
He nodded. "No more secrets."
"And I need you to know something. I've been giving this a lot of thought…" She straightened and caught a flicker of alarm in his eyes as he sensed that she was, indeed, serious. "About Clementine and the baby, and what the ton believes…" She wet her lips, oddly nervous, even though she knew what she had to say.
Because she had been giving this thought. All the while they were caught in conversations, her mind kept working away at the “mistress problem,” as she'd dubbed it. And the decision had been clear.
Kit shifted. "Clarissa?—"
"I don't want you to tell the truth." She spit it out so quickly it came out like one word.
He blinked. "Pardon?"
"It's up to you, of course. It's your reputation and your father’s, but I heard you tell him that you'd let me decide, and—if that's not the case, then?—"
"Clarissa."
She took a breath. "Yes?"
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "I meant what I said. I don't care what people say about me, but you've had more than your fair share of malicious gossip. No young lady should be asked to?—"
"But you're not asking," she said. "I'm offering. I don't want to correct the current gossip. If you don't mind what they're saying, then I don't either. Because I know the truth. And that's more than enough."
He opened his mouth, and she could see his doubts and reasoning coming. She cut him off before he could start.
"Your father is powerful, and poor Clementine is not. If the truth comes out publicly, it won't be your father who suffers. It will be her. She'll be called a liar, or worse. And the baby—" She shook her head. "Let the ton think what they want. The gossip will fade. It always does. Something new will come along and Cast-Off Clarissa and her scandalous fiancé will be yesterday's entertainment."
He stared at her. "You'd let them believe I fathered a child with another woman?"
"I'd let them believe whatever keeps a frightened girl and her baby safe." She met his eyes. "Wouldn't you?"
He didn't have to answer, because…yes. That was exactly what he'd been doing for months. But he didn't say anything in response. He just held her gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions she couldn't name.
And then he was silent for too long. Longer than Clarissa could stand, at least. "What? What is it? Why are you looking at me like that? If you don't agree?—"
He cut her off with a kiss. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her thoroughly before pulling back to gaze at her. "You are lovely, Lady Clarissa Whitfield. Every time I think I know how wonderful you are, you surprise me again with your generosity and kindness."
She started to protest, but he cut her off with another kiss. She rather ruined the moment, however, when she started to laugh. "Is this how you always plan to silence me when I disagree?"
"Perhaps." He grinned. "Accept the compliment or accept the consequences."
"I knew you were a rogue," she laughed. "From the very first time I met you."
He scoffed. "You don't even remember the very first time we met."
Her lips parted in surprise as she remembered her own petty little lie. She clamped them shut again, but it was too late. He'd seen her guilt—or perhaps the blush that stole into her cheeks. "Er…about that. There's something I need to confess."
He arched his brows.
"About the coaching inn…" She looked away, but not before seeing his lips twitch with mirth.
He leaned in closer. "Yes?"
