He'd been warned that Lady Clarissa Crambray was dangerous. Lady Clarissa Crambray wanted a husband, but maybe not as much as her stepmother wanted one for her. Doffing her spectacles might make a girl prettier, but how would she see?. He'd been warned that Lady Clarissa Crambray was dangerous. Stomping on toes and burning piffles, the chestnut-haired beauty was clearly a force with which. Notoriously klutzy and completely blind without her glasses, lovely Lady Clarissa Crambray catches the eye of scarred Napoleonic war veteran Adrian Montfort.
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Rumor has it she can see fine with spectacles, but is too vain to wear them. Still smiling, Adrian followed Reg's gaze to the girl, carefully taking in her wretched expression before shaking his head. Despite the inclusion of the word 'please', it was not a request, but an order, and one Clarissa was heartily sick of hearing her stepmother give. If the woman would simply allow her to wear her spectacles, she would have no need to squint.
She would also not be constantly bumping into things and people. But no, of course, she must not wear her spectacles. That would put off suitors. Then there was the little incident of falling out in front of a moving carriage, not to mention her having set Lord Prudhomme's wig on fire.
Her stepmother had decided that -- as she was so blind and clumsy without her spectacles -- there was only one way for her to go on.
Clarissa was to sit quietly in future when in the presence of others. She was not to touch candles, cups, plates, or She was no longer to eat in company, but was to claim she was not hungry Neither was she to drink.
Walking was even out without her maid to lead her. By the time Lydia had finished, all Clarissa was supposed to do in the presence of others was sit at her stepmother's side, looking serene…which meant, no squinting.
Sighing, Clarissa turned her gaze away from the blur of people swinging past on the dance floor and stared wearily at the pale pink blur of her own hands in the yellow haze of her lap.
It was going to be another boring night. Clarissa heard the request, but didn't bother to look up. Why should she? It wasn't as if she could see anything anyway. Instead, she waited unhappily for her stepmother to speak, wondering the whole while who the stranger was that he had not heard of her. Anyone who had heard the tales of her clumsiness, surely would not approach. When a black blur suddenly moved into the seat, Clarissa sat back with a start. Suppressing a shiver, she turned her attention quickly back to the man at her side.
He had a lovely, deep gravelly voice that she found pleasing and his blurred form appeared quite large. For the millionth time Clarissa wished she had her spectacles and could see. I fear I was distracted by my own thoughts and not paying attention. While she had a vague recollection of Lydia murmuring something to her, Clarissa had been sunk too deep in her own misery to pay her much heed. It was humiliating to sit here catching bits of conversation as people gossiped unkindly about her.
Her clumsiness was apparently quite the joke of the season. Clarissa blinked in surprise at this blurted announcement.
If she was taken aback by his bluntness, she suspected it was no more so than the speaker. I do know what people are saying. They seem to think that I am deaf as well as clumsy, for they do not worry about saying it in front of me -- or at least behind their fans -- loudly enough for me to hear. Clarissa waved his words away again, only this time noting the way he dodged as if to avoid a sound blow to the head. At least you said it to my face. I was wondering if you truly are?
Clarissa smiled wryly. I can see with spectacles. But, my stepmother has taken them away. Though the only thing as yet that I have set fire to is Lord Prudhomme's wig. The man knew that I could not see without my spectacles. Why the deuce he asked me to move the candle closer is beyond me. She thought he nodded, though it was hard to say.
The man was emitting small choked sounds. It took her a moment to identify them. He was fighting desperately not to laugh. Though, not right away. He relaxed somewhat then. She could actually feel the muscles in the arm and leg pressed against her own, expand.
But, he only expelled a small chuckle. Clarissa squinted again, trying to bring his face into focus.
She wanted very much to see his face. She liked the sound of his laugh, and his voice when he spoke was husky yet soft, it was really quite And, while Clarissa should have moved over rather than allow the intimate closeness of his hip rubbing against hers with every move, she quite liked that too, so, she pretended not to notice.
Clarissa gave up trying to see his face and smiled good-naturedly. He thought it was all my fault. He called me quite a few nasty names too. In fact, I am not to touch anything in public; candles, flower vases, anything. I am not even supposed to walk without someone to guide me. But then, she did not have to. She hesitated and then tried to explain. I lose my balance, and Clarissa had ended up tripping him up as well, so they had both ended on the floor.
Very embarrassing. He was offering her a hand to rise. Clarissa opened her mouth to refuse and then paused as his hand suddenly enclosed hers, sending a shock of sensation racing up her arm. It was such an odd feeling, like excitement, but alive, coursing across her flesh. Close enough to kiss, she thought vaguely. Good, God, Clarissa realized, close enough to see! But, Clarissa remembered those eyes, so dark, so kind, and she nodded her head.
Then he was tugging her out of her seat, and directing her through the crowd of dancers to the middle of the dance floor. Despite having just met him, Clarissa believed him and knew he would not let her stumble as he led her into the dance.
With her eyes closed, she had only her ears, and his touch to lead her. The music was loud and strong, drowning out all conversation. His touch guided her; a squeeze of the hand, an urging pressure at her waist. And the only other sensation was the air brushing past her as he whirled her around and around, without once tripping, or stumbling. For the first time in weeks -- since her arrival in London in fact -- Clarissa didn't feel like a clumsy oaf.
It was divine. When it ended, he gave her hand a squeeze and then drew it through his arm to promenade the room. I fear you are the one who dances divinely.
I know it is not I, for I have been able to do nothing but stumble and fall about when dancing with others. You are as light, and graceful as a feather on the dance floor with me. Clarissa considered that briefly, then, with her innate sense of justice, nodded her head. After all, if it were me alone, even your obvious skill could not have made it so easy. Perhaps my previous partners were a bit nervous and awkward.
She could hear the smile in his voice and raised her eyebrows in question.
I am pleased by your lack of false modesty. It is something that never really bothered me before, yet now seems as fake and unpleasant as the airs everyone puts on when in the city. I find your honesty most refreshing. Clarissa felt herself blush, then the first strains of a new song hummed through the air and her companion paused and turned her into his arms once more.
Clarissa closed her eyes and relaxed into his arms. Besides, she quite liked being in his embrace.
Between that and her closed eyes, she felt quite coddled and safe. Clarissa blinked her eyes open, tried in vain to see the face dancing before her and then gave it up and raised a questioning eyebrow. Lydia was livid. She snatched them off my face and broke them right in front of my eyes.
Almost close enough that I could see what she was doing. It is quite tedious.