Alton frowned. “It wasn’t Moira, but Roger himself who told her.”
Clarice made a dismissive sound and set down her tea cup. “Tell Roger I’ll make him a wager—that after he’d spoken with Alice, she, incensed, approached Moira and took her to task. But Moira retaliated with something—some fabrication, something truly horrendous—that Alice couldn’t overlook. That’s why she changed her mind and broke things off with Roger.” The look she cast Alton was one of fond exasperation. “You really are too easily manipulated.”
She sat back. “Now what about Nigel?”
“He and Emily—Emily Hollingworth—well, I suppose you could say that in typical Nigel fashion, he’s toeing the line in the hope that everything will somehow resolve itself, meaning that either Roger or I will discover some way around Moira.” Alton grimaced. “Emily’s just twenty. They have time.”
Clarice raised her brows. “But you don’t?”
Alton lifted his eyes and met her gaze. “No.” He gestured helplessly. “That’s what I was wrestling with when you came in.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “I have no idea what to do.”
“Who?” Clarice asked.
“Sarah Haverling, old Conniston’s eldest daughter.”
Clarice pursed her lips, then nodded slowly. “An excellent choice.” She focused on Alton. “You have an understanding, but you’ve made no formal offer yet?”
“I haven’t even hinted at such a thing, not to her father.”
“I take it something’s made the matter pressing?”
“Yes! Sarah’s twenty-three, nearly twenty-four. This will be her last Season. We’ve been talking of marrying for the last year, but with Moira holding what she is over my head…” Hopelessness deepened the lines in Alton’s face. “Her father and stepmother are encouraging her to marry, hardly surprisingly. They’ve lined up Farleigh and Bicknell, both seem increasingly smitten. If either makes an offer…if I can’t make a counteroffer, Sarah will be pressured to accept them.”
Watching Clarice, Jack saw her stiffen; Sarah Haverling’s immediate future was exceedingly reminiscent of Clarice’s past.
“The worst part,” Alton went on, his voice lower, his gaze fixed on his tightly clenched hands, “is that Sarah doesn’t understand why I won’t speak. She’s not enamored of either of the others, and they’re older, too. She keeps looking to me, and I have to keep making excuses…” His voice wavered; he drew in another huge breath. “I haven’t slept for days. I don’t know what to do.”
A moment ticked by, then Clarice softly asked, “What is it that Moira holds over you?” When Alton looked up, she met his gaze. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t advise you.”
Alton stared at her for a moment, then his eyes cut to Jack.
“Don’t worry about Jack.” Clarice’s tone was dry. “His discretion is assured, and indeed, you’re liable to get more sympathy from him than me.”
Alton didn’t smile. He looked at Clarice. “I had an affair with Sarah’s stepmother, Claire.”
Clarice raised her brows. “How very unwise. But I take it this was before you took up with Sarah?”
Alton looked irritated. “Years before. She was still in the schoolroom.”
“Indeed. In that case, I’d advise you to confess. Unless Claire has changed greatly in the last seven years, I seriously doubt she’ll make any waves.”
Alton looked directly at Clarice; Jack could suddenly see a stronger resemblance. “I can’t confess. After Roger tried, Moira told me that if I did, she’d speak, not to Sarah, but to Conniston himself. We may all know that Claire has been taking lovers for years, but Moira will assure Conniston that if he allows me to marry Sarah, then she’ll ensure that the tale of Conniston meekly handing over his daughter to a man who’d cuckolded him will be spread the length and breadth of the ton.”
Clarice held Alton’s dark gaze, then grimaced. “Oh.”
That, Jack thought, summed it up perfectly. He was starting to develop a very real interest in meeting Clarice’s old nemesis—now, it appeared, her brothers’ nemesis, too. He was curious to see just what sort of female could, and would, so brazenly run such nasty, sticky coils around people of the caliber of Clarice and Alton. Despite Alton’s state, Jack was catching enough glimmers of steel and hard arrogance to guess that on a good day, Alton was no weakling. His inner steel might not yet be tempered to quite the same saber-edged hardness as Clarice’s, but it seemed Moira was working on that.
To his mind, that might prove a very dangerous game. Especially for Moira. The woman must be blind not to know with what manner of people she was dealing.
He’d barely finished the thought when the library door burst open.
They all looked. A blond harpy stood on the threshold, blue eyes flaming, heavy breasts heaving with uncontrolled fury.
“Alton!” The voice was shrill, barely controlled. “How dare you entertain this…” The harpy’s eyes cut to Clarice and spat flames. “This female in your father’s house?”
Chapter 14
It was like watching a chrysalis crack and a new life-form emerge.