Chapter Six
Clarissa was still patting herself on the back two days later. Proposing she and Seb should team up had been a masterstroke of pure genius because it served two purposes. Firstly, with her on his arm in the crowded ballroom she consoled herself that his short crisis of confidence was banished away. He was immediately accepted by a great many there because they all knew Clarissa had exceptional taste in people as well as everything else. Next to her, he practised the ever-so-slightly aloof bemusement which suited him down to the ground. Where his society manner faltered, usually when surrounded by a great many curious ladies, she blithely filled in the silent void and openly confided to those eager women what a delicious and intriguing new gentleman he was.
Her talent for story-telling meant his stark, fictional past was now brilliantly embellished with scintillating details. How he once accepted a challenge to race around the streets of Sydney in a cart because he was bored, outrunning a racing curricle with his superior driving skills. How he once sailed to the savage wilds of Tasmania on the hunt for the legendary ‘tiger’, travelled miles inland until he found a whole pack of them and then left them all gloriously alive because he only wanted to pet one. And her personal favourite, because on the first telling his cheeks had pinkened, how he was the most sought-after bachelor in the whole of New South Wales on account of both his impressive fortune and his scandalous reputation as a ladies’ man. Although, she had cautioned, giggling behind her fan as the women cast him questioning and flirtatious glances, to be bestowed with his favour was a very rare honour because he had grown quite particular. Well, it didn’t hurt to reinforce her own attractiveness whilst painting him the charming catch. That mysterious Lord Millcroft was a very discerning gentleman after all.
For over an hour she had remained his companion, until he had been invited to join Penhurst in the card room. Watching him emerge near the end of the evening, standing tall and proud and quietly pleased with himself, gave Clarissa a huge sense of achievement. Aside from helping the British government in its quest to rid England of a gang of dangerous smugglers, which she couldn’t deny held tremendous appeal, it was warming to see him in his element. The casual way he had ensconced himself with the men of her circle, the subtle techniques he used to draw information out of them and the way he not only melded to become one of them, but also provided a stark yardstick for comparison, was fascinating. Against him, his raw physicality, excellent features and both his real and fictional achievements, Seb quite outshone all the other men. On more than one occasion, Clarissa had had to remind herself to glance at Westbridge, whom she had quite forgotten in Seb’s significantly more impressive shadow.
Which, of course, did wonders for the second benefit of aligning herself with the enigmatic, new Lord Millcroft. Poor Westbridge was beside himself with jealousy! Even when Lady Olivia and her ambitious mother encircled him like ravenous vultures, her Duke watched Clarissa and Seb like a hawk. Only once Seb was safely dispatched to the gaming tables did she return to the Duke, just in time for their waltz. He had been both aggrieved and relieved, dancing so stiffly he might as well have had broom handles inserted down his sleeves and trouser legs. To further vex her Duke, because frankly he deserved it, she danced with a faraway, wistful smile on her face. A smile meant solely for Lord Millcroft. Only part of which was truly forced. There was something about Seb that made her feel all warm inside.
* * *
The following morning, Clarissa had awoken to two bouquets. A huge and satisfying basket of crimson roses from Westbridge and a charming bunch of pale-pink peonies and forget-me-nots from Seb, whose posy she much preferred because he had taken the trouble to handwrite the note. Like the man, the words were brief, and blessedly Clarissa was able to read them in less than a minute—which certainly made a change, boosted her confidence and significantly buoyed her mood further.
Dear Gem,
Thank you.
S.
The fact that he had chosen simple in-season cottage flowers from his own garden over showy, forced, ostentation said a great deal about the man. His flowers were more personal. He could very well have picked them himself. A detail she had happily shared with all and sundry on Rotten Row that same afternoon. As an added bonus, the symbolism of the forget-me-nots was not lost on anyone, meaning the gossip that the illustrious Duke of Westbridge had a rival spread like wildfire.
Tonight, there would be more than Westbridge’s eyes following them and Clarissa couldn’t wait to get to the ballroom. A few more weeks of this and she would safely be hiding behind the title of duchess before August—unless her Duke combusted with jealousy beforehand and procured a special licence.
‘The Penhurst carriage is here, my lady.’
Clarissa stood and gave her appearance one last look in the mirror. The sky blue was a statement. It matched those forget-me-nots on her nightstand and the single stem woven in her hair. The colour brightened her eyes and the tight bodice displayed just enough cleavage to suggest that she possessed more bosom than she actually owned, while the translucent layers of contrasting pale-blue and cobalt silk chiffon draped around the skirt gave the gown a graceful movement which would look marvellous as she danced. It went without saying that she would grant Seb the first waltz, something she was rather looking forward to, making Westbridge jealously wait for the second from the wings.
Dancing with Seb had been...well, rather memorable actually. Beneath her fingers his broad frame was as solid and impressive as it had seemed when encased in just a bandage. The soft press of his hand above her waist, his other engulfing hers, had made her feel delicate. His shy glances and adorable, honest awkwardness when they were alone in the alcove had made her feel special. Knowing his background and his true purpose made him much more exciting than anyone else in the crowded ballroom. All in all, Seb was thoroughly delightful.
With a start, she realised she had butterflies in her stomach and her hands went to her midriff to calm them. As a young debutante, such nerves had been commonplace, but now in her fourth Season, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been so excited about attending a ball. No doubt, these were because she was making progress with her Duke. It felt good giving him a taste of his own medicine. However, assisting a dashing spy held a different appeal, especially as only shereallyknew Seb. The real man. The mysterious Lord Millcroft was appealing—but the tips of his ears didn’t blush nor did his eyes shyly dip after holding hers for any length of time. These were tiny truths which he only shared with her. And which apparently made those butterflies dance a jig. They continued to flap until she was seated in the carriage.
‘Will Lord Millcroft be in attendance tonight?’
Surprised that Penhurst had bothered to ask her a question when he usually ignored her and Penny as they travelled, Clarissa forgot to be nonchalant. ‘Yes, he is. Why do you ask?’
‘No reason, other than the fact that he seems to have made quite the impression on people in such a short space of time. I noticed you spent a great deal of time conversing with him the other evening.’
‘He is an interesting gentleman.’
‘Wealthy, if the talk about him is to be believed. Keen to invest it, too.’ Penhurst was examining his nails as he said this, attempting to pass off the comments as small talk—but as he never made small talk with her, something about it didn’t sit right.
‘Apparently so.’
‘Did he elaborate to you on those plans? Give any clue as to what sort of venture he wanted pursue?’
‘Not really. Gentlemen don’t tend to discuss business with ladies. Why didn’t you ask him yourself?’
‘Because it only just occurred to me.’ His unnaturally bland expression said differently. ‘The fellow makes me curious, although that should hardly be a surprise when he has suddenly materialised out of the blue and one considers his background. I wonder what manner of business accrued him that fortune? New South Wales is the home of convicts, which does make one wonder if Lord Millcroft’s extensive fortune was built on ill-gotten gains. I thought he hinted as much the other evening, didn’t you?’
‘Are you suggesting Lord Millcroft’s interests are not above board? He hardly seems the type.’ Although Seb would be pleased that people viewed him with those suspicions. A pious, incorruptible man would hardly flush out the criminals he had been tasked to catch.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m sure all his past dealings have been wholly proper and any suggestion to the contrary is merely gossip.’
‘There is already gossip?’ How splendid. She couldn’t wait to tell Seb he had already made the exact impression he wanted.
‘I happened to like the fellow. As I said, I am merely curious—as I would be of any newcomer into our ranks. Although I do think you should be the one to ask him—it was obvious he was enamoured of you. If anyone can prise his darkest secrets from him, I am in no doubt it will be you.’
‘You want me to ask him if he is a trickster?’ A decidedly odd request. ‘I’m sure that will go down very well!’
