Love Is Blind (17 page)

"Actually, she is not very interesting at all," he assured her.

"Oh."

She was silent so long that Adrian glanced over to see her biting her lip. He suspected she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue as they passed an-other couple. Once they were alone again, she finally said, "Adrian, I do not want... I mean, if you do not really wish to marry me, you need not."

Adrian stopped walking, his head whipping around, and anxiety claimed him. "What?" he asked, then said quickly, "Clarissa, Blanche means nothing to me. I have not seen her in ten years!"

"Oh, that is all right, my lord. I am not saying this because of her. It is just... I know you proposed only because of our being caught that night. I do not want you to marry me only to prevent a scandal."

"Do you not want to marry me?" Adrian asked, his voice harsher than he intended.

"Oh, yes," Clarissa said, too quickly for it to be a prevarication, and he felt himself relax until she added, "But I would not choose my happiness over yours. I would rather suffer the scandal than—"

Her words ended on a gasp of surprise as Adrian caught her arm and hustled her out of the busy gallery. He led her to the next door in the hallway,

opened it, saw that there were people inside, and closed it abruptly to glance around. It seemed to him that he had to prove to her both that Blanche meant nothing and that he did indeed want to marry her, and not only to prevent a scandal. Certainly the events of that night had rushed things along faster than he'd expected, but Adrian was sure he would have asked for her hand eventually. He needed her to understand that, and knew of only one way to assure it. However, he needed privacy to do it as well.

Adrian glanced up and down the hall, then pulled her to the next door, opened it, saw that room, too, was occupied, and moved to the next. When that room also turned out to be occupied, he glanced around with frustration and spotted the wardrobe. The hall was empty but wouldn't be for long, so he rushed her toward the wardrobe.

"What are we doing?" Clarissa asked in confusion as he opened both doors and pushed the clothes inside out of the way to make a small space. Rather than answer, Adrian checked outside once more to be sure the hallway was empty, then stepped into the wardrobe, tugged her up with him, then pulled the doors closed.

"Adrian?" Clarissa said uncertainly, but that was all she got out before his mouth covered hers. He kissed her with all the passion she stirred in him, all the passion stored up from days of watching her laugh, talk, walk, and smile.

Obviously confused and startled, at first Clarissa

was stiff in his arms, but then she released a little sigh

and melted against him, her arms creeping around

his neck.

Adrian groaned as she began to make little mewling

sounds of pleasure and stretched against him like a cat. Those sounds and movements had driven him wild each of the two previous times they'd kissed. The first time he'd been terribly aware of his mother just on the other side of the French doors, and that had given him the strength to end their kiss and send her in to return tot party.

The second time had been in her room, and there had been no one on the other side of die door, nothing to force him to remain in control. Despite his protests at the time, Adrian had gladly gone wild and begun to do all the things he wanted to do to her ... and he would have done them if the fire hadn't interrupted. Now the two of them were in a wardrobe, and he was forced to maintain some control or risk making love to her up against the inner wall. Which was certainly not the best option for deflowering a virgin.

Sadly, his body didn't seem to care. As Clarissa continued to sigh and mewl and stretch and rub against him like a cat, his body responded, growing hard and erect, and he found himself rubbing back. Adrian told himself that was all they could do, kiss and rub, but his hands didn't listen, and one moved down to catch her by the bottom, pressing her lower body closer against his, while his other hand found one breast and squeezed.

"Oh, Adrian." Clarissa gasped, and Adrian was moved to break their kiss to let his lips travel to her throat as he slid one leg between hers in the narrow confines, settling her there so that she rode his thigh. It elicited another moan that made his erection surge in his breeches.

Adrian suddenly wished to God they were already married. If they were, he'd take her home right now

and . . . His mind suddenly went blank, his body stiffening as Clarissa's hand found his erection and investigated.

"What is it you have in your breeches, my lord? It keeps poking me," she murmured breathlessly.

All Adrian could get out was a small whimper. He wanted to beg her to touch him harder, to reach into his pants and take him in hand without cloth to hinder her. Another part, however, was aware that they were in a damned cupboard, and he wanted to plead with her to leave off touching him before he lost control. "How long until the wedding?" he asked. Clarissa paused, breathing heavily, and tried to work it out. A moment later she said, "A week, my lord." "Oh, God. So long," Adrian muttered. "Not so long; it just feels that way." Adrian stiffened. The comment had come from a third voice. For a brief moment, he thought someone was in the wardrobe with them, but then he realized that it had come from outside. It was dark in the cupboard and he couldn't see Clarissa, but Adrian had no doubt a look of abject horror had claimed her face. She had gone stiff against him.

Adrian hesitated, then whispered, "That wasn't your father’s voice, was it?"

But before she could answer, the person on the other side of the cupboard chuckled. 'Yes."

Cursing, Adrian disengaged himself from Clarissa as much as he could, straightened his shoulders, and opened the cupboard door. Stepping out, he half expected to find a glove slapping his face and to be offered swords or pistols at dawn; however, what he found was John
Crambray
leaning against the wall opposite, looking vastly amused.

Adrian managed a chagrined smile. "Sorry," he muttered. "Clarissa thought I was marrying her only to save her from scandal, and I was trying to prove to her that I want her for herself, scandal be hanged."

"Is that what you were doing?" Clarissa asked with surprise. She had followed him out of the wardrobe.

Adrian opened his mouth to answer, then got a look at the state of her and quickly set to work trying to straighten her clothes before anyone saw. John Cram-bray immediately began to help, tending to the bits of hair Adrian had unintentionally pulled from the coiffure on top of her head.

'Yes, that is what I was doing," he said as they worked. "Why else would you think I pulled you into the cupboard?"

'To kiss me," Clarissa said simply, and Adrian blinked, glanced at John
Crambray's
amused face, then sighed.

'Yes, Clarissa," he said. "But I kissed you to prove that I want you. To reassure you that this is not just some act of chivalry on my part."

"Oh." She looked bemused and then asked, "Well, why did you not just say so, my lord?"

"From the mouths of babes," John
Crambray
said with amusement. Then he explained, "Because men do not think like women, Clary. Women talk, but men
do.
It is why they use the term
'man
of action.'"

"Oh, I see," Clarissa said. But it didn't really sound like she did.

Adrian sighed to himself and stepped back to peer at her. Her gown was straight, but her father appeared to be having some difficulty with her hair. It looked nothing at all like it had before the wardrobe.

Lord
Crambray
peered at Clarissa's hair, frowned then glanced at Adrian. "Do you know how to fix this?" he asked.

"No." Adrian grimaced. Brightening, he realized, "But my mother may. Wait here and I shall go and bring her back."

John nodded, then turned to speak to Clarissa as Adrian hurried away. Adrian found his mother still seated with Lady Lydia and Mary, and he explained the problem to her in a whisper. She stood at once and headed out of the ballroom, but when Adrian turned to follow, Lydia murmured, "She shall have her spectacles again soon." Adrian froze and turned back. "Excuse me?" "I sent a message to
Crambray
to have her spare spectacles sent to us here in London. They should be here soon." She smiled. "Then she will be able to see properly and know just what she is marrying. Clarissa seems happy now. I wonder how happy she shall be en she can see properly."

"She shall still be happy," Mary said firmly. Getting to her feet, she took Adrian's arm. "Come, let us join Clarissa and your mother." Adrian allowed his cousin to lead him out of the ballroom, his mind awhirl. Clarissa would have her spectacles soon and would be able to see him? He blanched with horror. She would
see
him.

"Are you all right?" Mary asked as soon as they were out in the hall. 'You turned white when Lydia said Clarissa would have her spectacles back."

Adrian
didn't respond. He didn't know what to say. No he wasn't feeling all right. He felt sick, actually. But he couldn't tell Mary that.

It seemed he didn't have to. His cousin squeezed his arm and said quietly, "Clarissa will love you just as you are, Adrian."

He wanted to believe her—he really did—but pain and fear were clawing at his chest, and he asked, "Where's Reginald?"

"I believe he went in to play cards with some of the men," Mary said. Curiously, she asked, "Why?"

"I must speak with him," Adrian answered, and patted her hand. "Thank you, Mary. Now, there are Mother and Clarissa ahead. I shall find you again once I have spoken to Reg."

Mary nodded absently. "But what happened to Clarissa's hair?"

"It got a little messed up, and Mother is helping to fix it," Adrian explained. He frowned as he saw that Clarissa's hair actually looked worse now than it had before.

"You thought your
mother
could help?" Mary asked with horror. She came to a grinding halt.

Adrian frowned. 'Yes. She's a woman; she knows more about this than ... Why are you shaking your head?"

"You must never let your mother near Clarissa's hair. She is hopeless with such things." Mary turned back toward the ballroom with a sigh. "I shall ask Lady Guernsey if her maid would be willing to help."

Adrian watched her walk off, then glanced back at Clarissa and the others, frowning at the way his fiancée’s hair was now piled high atop her head and leaning like the Tower of Pisa. There had been only a couple of wisps loose and in need of fixing when this had started. John had somehow managed to make it

look a little worse, and now his mother had definitely made it even worse. He would take Mary's advice to heart and be sure not to enlist his mother's aid for such things in the future.

Shaking his head, Adrian turned to make his way to the room where he knew the men and a few women were playing cards. He spotted Reginald at once. His cousin crowed as he approached, obviously having just won a round.

"Reginald, I need to talk to you," Adrian said, moving behind his chair.

"Go ahead," Reginald said, as he continued to rake in his winnings.

"In private," Adrian murmured apologetically.

"Can it not wait until I have finished this game?"
Reg
asked.

Adrian hesitated and debated the matter. "No," he

said finally.

Reginald heaved a sigh and got to his feet. "Deal me

of this hand. I shall be back directly." "Thank you," Adrian said as they moved across the room to talk.

"Any time, cousin. Now, what is so important?" "Lydia sent for Clarissa's spare spectacles from home," Adrian said grimly. Reginald stared. "And . .. ?"

Adrian frowned as he pointed out, "She will be able to see me."

Reginald
   
raised
   
his
  
eyebrows
  
and
  
repeated, "And...?"

"Well,
I cannot let that happen," he pointed out, "If she
 
sees me, she—"

"Adrian, think," Reginald interrupted. "She is going

to see you eventually. You did not plan to carry on where Lydia left off and keep her blind indefinitely, did you?"

"No, of course not, but—"

"But what?" Reginald asked.

"I need more time."

"For what?"

Adrian hesitated, then said, "Mayhap if she comes to love me before she sees me ..."

Seeing the pity in his cousin's eyes, Adrian turned away. He swallowed hard, trying to remove the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in his throat. He was a grown man, but felt like a six-year-old threatened with losing his best friend.

. "Adrian." Reginald placed one hand on his shoulder and eyed him solemnly as he turned. "First, your face is not as bad as you think. Second, I do not think Clarissa would care even if it were. And third, if she does, and if it affects her feelings for you, then 'tis best to know now, is it not?"

Adrian's shoulders slumped with defeat. "Mayhap."

"All will be well." Reginald patted his shoulder, and turned away. "Go enjoy her company. You are finally able to see her without elaborate plans and sneaking about, and now you're worrying about other things. Go kiss her senseless!"