Read Online Playing to Win by Diane Farr - Free Book Online

after your
seventeenth birthday? Surely that date is somewhat behind
you."
    As soon as the words were spoken, he
regretted them. Damnation! he thought. One never speaks of a
woman's age! Why could he not bear in mind the simplest social
conventions?
    But Clarissa did not take offense at
his plain speaking. She did not even seem to notice it. "By that
time, Miss Bathurst had honored me with her friendship," she
explained. "It is really she who reared me, sir. Miss Bathurst had
the molding of my mind and opinions; hers was the only parental
influence I have ever felt. I worked hard under her tutelage and
did well in my studies. When I became too old for school, she
allowed me to stay on at the Academy and teach some of the younger
girls."
    Clarissa looked down at her hands
again. She spoke so softly, he had to lean forward to catch her
words. "If she had not employed me, I do not know what I would have
done. By then, my father was afflicted with what would prove to be
his final illness. When he fell ill, my allowance stopped. I
believe no one else in his household knew of my
existence."
    "Who was your father?"
    "A nobleman."
    "Which nobleman?"
    Clarissa drew herself up with great
dignity. "I will not tell you his name."
    He grinned at this hair-splitting. "Why
not?"
    "My father was a well-respected man,
meticulous in matters of reputation. I owe him my existence, my
education, the very clothes on my back. I will not disgrace his
memory by divulging his identity."
    Mr. Whitlatch reflected that if his
curiosity got the better of him, a few discreet inquiries would
easily bring him the name of whoever was Gianetta's protector
twenty-odd years ago. For the time being, he would respect
Clarissa's reticence.
    "Then, I take it, you do not bear his
name."
    She inclined her head sadly. "It was
not available to me, sir. I have my mother's surname."
    Mr. Whitlatch searched his memory for
La Gianetta's surname, and came up blank. "Do you know," he said
slowly, "I don't believe I ever heard your mother's last name. She
has always been ‘La Gianetta.’"
    Clarissa's eyes suddenly gleamed with
something that might have been mischief. "Her name is Feeney," she
said calmly.
    Mr. Whitlatch was thunderstruck. "Feeney? Impossible! Or, wait—I see. F-I-N I. Gianetta
Fini."
    Clarissa shook her head, and spelled
the common Irish surname with great relish. "F-E-E-N E-Y.
Whatever airs my mother chooses to affect, she was born plain Jane
Feeney."
    Clarissa's look of mischief increased
as she saw his jaw slacken. "I fancy that is not generally known,"
she added kindly.
    "Good God, no!" Mr. Whitlatch was aware
of an absurd feeling of disillusionment. Then a reluctant grin
spread across his features.
    "Very clever," he said appreciatively.
"She picked her own name, a name to suit her image, eh? Jane
Feeney! No, it doesn't have the same ring. But what is her accent?
She speaks both French and English with the loveliest lilt. I
always thought she was Italian."
    "I daresay," said Clarissa scornfully.
"Had you been Italian, you would have assumed she was Portuguese.
And so on."
    This stroke of marketing genius made
Mr. Whitlatch shake his head in amazement. "Extraordinary. One
can't help but admire her."
    With an exclamation of annoyance,
Clarissa picked the lap robe up off the floor and began tucking it
round her again. "Yes, one can!" she snapped. "My mother is a
shameless charlatan. She has spent her life deceiving and
manipulating others. Do you admire that?"
    "Your mother has lived by her wits, my
girl, and carved a name for herself out of nothing. I admire that
in anyone."
    A crease appeared between Clarissa's
brows as she struggled with the idea of admiring her mother. "I
suppose she is, in many ways, a remarkable woman," she said at
last. "But frankly, sir, her reputation is a cross I have been
forced to bear all my life. I would fain have had a
less—remarkable—parent."
    Yes, he supposed anonymity would have
been more to Clarissa’s liking. She