Love Is Blind (30 page)

"No! Kibble, get back here! We need you," Adrian said sharply.

"Then you have to leave," the
buder
demanded, turning back. "I cannot work on her with you interrupting and questioning my every comment and order. You are slowing me down and will simply get in the way."

When Adrian hesitated, desperate for Kibble to help yet reluctant to leave his wife's side, John
Crambray
touched his arm. "Come, he is right. This is no

place for us. Let us get out of his way and go below stairs."

"But what if she—" Adrian cut off the thought. He'd been about to say,
what if she dies?
He didn't want Clarissa to be alone if that happened. But then, he
didn'twant
it to happen at all.

"Either you leave or I leave, my lord," Kibble said heartlessly.

Adrian felt his shoulders sag in defeat. Kibble was the smartest man he knew. The
buder
had not just been a teacher before taking the role as
buder
here at
Mowbray
. In fact, when Adrian had come of age and not needed his tutelage anymore, the man had gone off to join the army. He'd been in battles in countries Adrian could not even pronounce, and most of that time had been spent bandaging, tending, and saving the injured.

In Adrian's opinion, Kibble had probably forgotten more about caring for the injured and ill than most doctors knew. That was how they'd met again: Kibble had saved his life after the battle that had stolen his looks. He'd then agreed to accompany Adrian home to look after him as he mended and had simply stayed, taking on the mantle of
buder
when Fitzwilliam died. If Adrian were to trust Clarissa to anyone, it would be to this man.

"I will call you as soon as there is any change," Kibble said, softening as he saw the concession in Adrian's stance. "Any change either way, and I shall call you back at once."

Adrian gave one brief nod, then allowed Lord
Crambray
to lead him from the room. The two men were silent as they walked up the hall to the stairs, their ears straining to hear the orders Kibble was barking like a sergeant.

"She will be fine," Lord
Crambray
said
quiedy
, but Adrian could hear the fear in his voice and realized that Clarissa was the man's only daughter, the child of his love match with his wife Margaret. He had to be at least as upset as Adrian.

Forcing himself to buck up, Adrian managed to murmur something of an agreement and led Clarissa's father down to the salon, thinking a jolt of brandy would do them both some good. But as he pulled the door open and stepped into the room, he paused to see Lady
Crambray
seated calmly on the settee, her face expressionless.

"So, what is it now? Has she set this house afire too? Or perhaps she has stumbled and stubbed her toe?" the woman asked.

Adrian felt the blood boil through his body, but it was John
Crambray
who answered. Stepping up to Adrian's side, he glared at his wife with a show of true dislike. "She has been poisoned. And since you are the only person I know who hates her enough to do such a thing, I would not look so smug. It will be you who hangs if she dies."

Chapter Sixteen

Clarissa opened her eyes slowly and peered at the empty bed beside her. Apparently, Adrian had already awoken and left. This was unusual. Generally, if he woke up first, he would stir her awake with kisses and caresses. It was a lovely way to start each day.

Though, Clarissa supposed, today she would not have enjoyed it as much as usual; she was feeling a bit weary, and for some reason her throat and tummy were sore. Hoping she wasn't coming down with something, Clarissa released a little sigh and rolled onto her back, then nearly screamed at the sight of the wrinkled old face leaning over her.

"Kibble." She gasped, clutching the linens and blankets to her chest and staring at him, wide-eyed. "What—"

"How are you feeling?" the
buder
interrupted calmly.

"I. .." Clarissa blinked, her mind now fully awake

and beginning to function. The last thing she recalled was lying down to rest in the late afternoon, but the light in the room suggested it was early to mid-afternoon now. Frowning, she explored her mind, poking at half memories and disjointed recollections of Mrs.
Longbottom
and Kibble holding her up and murmuring soothingly as she was sick.

"I was ill," she said slowly.

"Yes," Kibble acknowledged.

"You and Mrs.
Longbottom
looked after me."

"Along with the rest of the staff," Kibble said quietly. "We were all quite concerned, my lady."

"Oh." Clarissa frowned. "What happened? Was it a flu?"

"What do you recall?" the
buder
asked.

Clarissa bit her lip and thought back. "I came to my room to escape
Lydi
—I mean, for a
litde
privacy," she interrupted herself quickly. While her stepmother was a trial, Clarissa would not speak of that to servants. She had been glad that her
fadier
and husband got along well, and had been happy when they'd ridden out together; unfortunately, it had left Lydia behind to torment her with sly comments about what a trial her marriage bed must be, and how horrified Clarissa would be when she finally saw her husband's ugly face—if he ever allowed her to have spectacles again. He might just keep her blind, her stepmother suggested.

Holding her temper and keeping her secret
diat
she already owned spectacles, Clarissa had escaped to her room to read. She'd blocked both doors as usual, and
setded
down with a book. Clarissa didn't tell Kibble
this
part, however. She was still reluctant to reveal her glasses.

"I came to my room to rest for a bit," Clarissa said "There was a slice of pie on my bedside table."

"You did not bring it up yourself?" Kibble asked.

"No. I thought perhaps Frederick had left it for me. He seems always to be trailing me around and bringing me small gifts." She shrugged. "I was not hungry, but was loath to hurt his feelings by ignoring it, so I took a couple of bites."

"Thank God you were not hungry," Kibble murmured with a sigh, and Clarissa glanced at him in surprise.

"Why?"

Kibble hesitated and then said, "Never mind. Please finish telling me what happened."

Clarissa considered insisting he explain, but then decided she would find out in a moment and shrugged. "That is it. I had a couple of bites and then relaxed on die bed. I recall that my stomach started to hurt, so I decided to sleep. I thought a
litde
nap might set it to rights."

Kibble was silent for a moment and then suddenly held something up. Clarissa couldn't at first tell what it was. When he perched them on her nose, she realized it was her spectacles.

"They were caught in the blankets when I moved you," he announced. "As was a book from the library."

Clarissa bit her lip, warily eyeing him, but the butler's face was expressionless, neither accusatory nor angry. "This is why you were blocking the door," he said. "Lord
Mowbray
does not know you have these."

It wasn't really a question, but Clarissa responded as if it were. "No. He does not know." She hung her head. Kibble nodded. "How long have you had them?" "Since the day before the wedding," she admitted in a small voice.

"I suspected this when you kept slipping away to your room," Kibble told her. "It made no sense to me that you had money of your own and had not used some to replace your spectacles."

"I could not at first! Not at home. Lydia was con-
standy
with me. But I slipped out to get them the day before the wedding while at the dressmaker's with Lady
Mowbray
," Clarissa admitted.

Kibble nodded. "Why have you not told Adrian?"

Clarissa noted the lack of proper title in the servant's reference to her husband, but knew the two men had a special relationship, almost that of a father and son, so she was not too surprised. She was not eager to answer his question.

When she remained silent, Kibble asked, "Is it because you have seen your husband clearly with them and find him repulsive? Did you wish not to have to look on your husband?"

Again, there was no judgment or condemnation in his tone, but Clarissa was horrified.

"No! Of course not," she cried. "Adrian is beautiful. His scar hardly affects his looks at all. He has the deep
est
, most beautiful brown eyes, and the sweetest lips, and..."

Realizing what she was saying, Clarissa paused and felt a blush course up over her skin.

'You love him," Kibble said with satisfaction.

"Yes. I believe I do," she admitted shyly.

With her spectacles on, Clarissa had no difficulty seeing the smile that now transformed the
buder's
face. Kibble obviously loved Adrian as well, and was pleased to know his wife cared for him.

They smiled at each other for a moment; then
Kib
-

ble
frowned and asked, "But why are you hiding your spectacles from him?" When Clarissa bit her lip and avoided his gaze, he said, "Is it for his sake?"

'Yes," she answered unhappily—though it was really for both their sakes. Clarissa did not wish for him to have to look on her in ugly spectacles, but also, should he find her ugly, she did not wish to lose what little bit of his affection she had gained.

Kibble frowned. "But do you not understand it would touch him more to know that you can actually see him and still love him than to let him think you do not know what he looks like?"

Confused, Clarissa lifted her gaze to his face. "What?" Kibble frowned, then asked, "Are you not hiding your spectacles so that he is not uncomfortable under your gaze?"

"Him
uncomfortable under
my
gaze?" she asked with bewilderment. "No. Why would he be uncomfortable under my gaze? I love him just as he is. I think he is handsome and smart and sweet and—"

"Then why do you not wear them and tell him so?" Kibble interrupted.

Clarissa blinked, thinking the butler must be slow. Taking pity on him, she explained, "Because the spectacles make me
ugly."

Kibble blinked in surprise, and it was his turn to ask, "What?"

Clarissa sighed. "Lydia says that they make me ugly. And when Lady
Mowbray
heard that my spare pair of spectacles had been broken, she said that Adrian would be relieved. I fear he would not find me attractive in them."

Kibble jerked back as if she'd hit him. He stared at

her with a stunned expression, then said, "You refuse to wear the spectacles because you fear Adrian will not find you attractive."

'Yes," Clarissa acknowledged miserably. She stiffened when the
buder
suddenly burst out laughing. Scowling, she snapped, "What is so funny?"

"Oh, my lady, if you only knew," he got out between gasps of breath and howling mirth. "Oh, the two of you are so precious. Each so in love, and afraid of rejection from the other."

Clarissa glowered, not at all happy with the man's amusement.

"Oh, dear."

Clarissa turned to find Lady
Mowbray
filling the doorway, an exasperated expression on her face. Shaking her head, she moved into the room to join them. "I apologize, but I was eavesdropping in the hall. Clarissa, I fear you misunderstood me."

"Lady
Mowbray
," Clarissa said with surprise. "When did you get here?"

"About an hour ago," Adrian's mother admitted. "I decided to visit and see how you and my son were getting along. I would have been here last night, but one of the carriage wheels broke. We had to stay at an inn overnight while it was repaired."

She draped herself over the empty side of the bed and patted Clarissa's hand. "Had I known you were ailing, I would have found a hack and carried on."

"There was no need. I am fine," Clarissa murmured, but she was touched by the assurance.

"No, my dear. It is quite obvious you are not fine," Lady
Mowbray
countered. 'You have been working under a misunderstanding."

Clarissa's eyebrows rose. "A misunderstanding, my lady?"

Adrian's mother opened her mouth, then paused. When she did speak, Clarissa was sure the words were not what she'd originally intended to say.

"I would be very pleased if you would call me Mother, Clarissa. I have always wanted a daughter, but could not have any more children after Adrian. I would be happy to fill the hole left behind by your mother's death, if I might. I gather Lydia is not. . . well, she has never had children of her own, so perhaps is not the best for the job," she said charitably.

Smiling, Clarissa squeezed the woman's hand holding hers and whispered, "Thank you .. . Mother."

Lady
Mowbray
beamed, her eyes
overbright
with what Clarissa suspected to be a light glazing of tears. But before they could say anything else, Kibble cleared his throat.

Once he had their attention, he suggested, "Perhaps you could explain this misunderstanding, Lady
Mowbray
, so that Lady Clarissa
does
understand and can work toward fixing things?"