this seems very strange, but I am perfectly safe, I assure you.”
Mrs. Simms pursed her lips and gave Clarissa a good long look. “Very well,” she said at last. “Now, get behind that screen and let’s see how these trousers fit. I don’t blame you one bit for finding them more comfortable than the silly sleeves you young ladies wear nowadays.”
It didn’t take long to find a few suits that needed only a little tailoring. Mrs. Simms lengthened the sleeves on one of the jackets herself while Clarissa slipped back into her dress. Shortly after, she left the shop with her parcels and began searching for a hackney. But just as she spotted one, someone called her name.
“Miss Martin!”
She whirled, praying that it wasn’t one of her father’s acquaintances. But it was Mr. Whibley, the Clerk of the Works who had guided her to Lord Stowe’s offices the night before. “Good morning,” she said politely.
“How odd to see you here. Do you know I was just thinking of searching out your brother today to enquire after you? Do you live near here? May I walk you home?”
“That’s very flattering, Mr. Whibley,” Clarissa said, blushing a little and trying to remember his other questions. She had never been sought out by a man before. “I do not live nearby, unfortunately, but it’s very kind of you to offer.”
She thought he would say good-bye then, but instead he stared at her for a long moment. He had an open, pleasant face, Clarissa thought, and he seemed charming enough.
At last, Mr. Whibley said, “Miss Martin, this may seem rather untoward, but...would you like to meet me for tea some afternoon next week?”
Clarissa blinked at him. She had so few friends now, but she still did not think it wise to court scandal. “I...I would like that very much, Mr. Whibley. But I don’t think I should. It would not be proper.”
“Then perhaps I might walk you home from church on Sunday?”
She thought about it for a moment. She could see nothing wrong with it, and since Sunday was her free day, she would not have to think of some excuse to absent herself from her duties to Lord Stowe. “I suppose that would be all right. I attend Holy Trinity in Brompton Square.”
He smiled, and it made him look even more charming. “I’ll look forward to it, Miss Martin.” He tipped his hat and was gone. Clarissa breathed a sigh of relief. It made her nervous to have her two lives so close to one another. But she could see no danger in seeing Mr. Whibley again. Her father had been gone a year, and she was out of mourning. Perhaps she deserved to live a little. It would do no harm to let him escort her back from church, and it would not interfere with her duties as Mr. Ford.
Thinking of her alter ego made her realize that if she did not get home and change at once, she would be late to Stowe House. She flagged down a hackney and climbed inside, all thoughts of Mr. Whibley forgotten as she began to mentally review the dossiers she had read the night before.
SIX
January 31, 1833
“So it’s to be Manners-Sutton for Speaker?” Anders asked when Ford found him in the members’ tearoom the next afternoon.
“I have it on good authority,” Ford said, grinning.
“For God’s sake,” Charles Bainbridge, Marquis of Cayleigh swore, “it’s been Manners-Sutton the last, what, twelve years? Where’s the suspense in that?”
“I believe it’s been sixteen this year, My Lord,” Ford corrected.
“How you lot find any excitement in this, I’ll never know,” Bainbridge grumbled, stuffing a cucumber sandwich into his mouth as he spoke. Anders smiled. He had known Charles Bainbridge almost as long as he had known Leo, and he still wasn’t sure if there was anything the man did find exciting. He seemed to take universal displeasure in everything and everyone he encountered.
Leo, on the other hand, was ever cheerful. He laughed now. “Your turn will come, Bain.”
“As my father has every
Mrs. Simms pursed her lips and gave Clarissa a good long look. “Very well,” she said at last. “Now, get behind that screen and let’s see how these trousers fit. I don’t blame you one bit for finding them more comfortable than the silly sleeves you young ladies wear nowadays.”
It didn’t take long to find a few suits that needed only a little tailoring. Mrs. Simms lengthened the sleeves on one of the jackets herself while Clarissa slipped back into her dress. Shortly after, she left the shop with her parcels and began searching for a hackney. But just as she spotted one, someone called her name.
“Miss Martin!”
She whirled, praying that it wasn’t one of her father’s acquaintances. But it was Mr. Whibley, the Clerk of the Works who had guided her to Lord Stowe’s offices the night before. “Good morning,” she said politely.
“How odd to see you here. Do you know I was just thinking of searching out your brother today to enquire after you? Do you live near here? May I walk you home?”
“That’s very flattering, Mr. Whibley,” Clarissa said, blushing a little and trying to remember his other questions. She had never been sought out by a man before. “I do not live nearby, unfortunately, but it’s very kind of you to offer.”
She thought he would say good-bye then, but instead he stared at her for a long moment. He had an open, pleasant face, Clarissa thought, and he seemed charming enough.
At last, Mr. Whibley said, “Miss Martin, this may seem rather untoward, but...would you like to meet me for tea some afternoon next week?”
Clarissa blinked at him. She had so few friends now, but she still did not think it wise to court scandal. “I...I would like that very much, Mr. Whibley. But I don’t think I should. It would not be proper.”
“Then perhaps I might walk you home from church on Sunday?”
She thought about it for a moment. She could see nothing wrong with it, and since Sunday was her free day, she would not have to think of some excuse to absent herself from her duties to Lord Stowe. “I suppose that would be all right. I attend Holy Trinity in Brompton Square.”
He smiled, and it made him look even more charming. “I’ll look forward to it, Miss Martin.” He tipped his hat and was gone. Clarissa breathed a sigh of relief. It made her nervous to have her two lives so close to one another. But she could see no danger in seeing Mr. Whibley again. Her father had been gone a year, and she was out of mourning. Perhaps she deserved to live a little. It would do no harm to let him escort her back from church, and it would not interfere with her duties as Mr. Ford.
Thinking of her alter ego made her realize that if she did not get home and change at once, she would be late to Stowe House. She flagged down a hackney and climbed inside, all thoughts of Mr. Whibley forgotten as she began to mentally review the dossiers she had read the night before.
SIX
January 31, 1833
“So it’s to be Manners-Sutton for Speaker?” Anders asked when Ford found him in the members’ tearoom the next afternoon.
“I have it on good authority,” Ford said, grinning.
“For God’s sake,” Charles Bainbridge, Marquis of Cayleigh swore, “it’s been Manners-Sutton the last, what, twelve years? Where’s the suspense in that?”
“I believe it’s been sixteen this year, My Lord,” Ford corrected.
“How you lot find any excitement in this, I’ll never know,” Bainbridge grumbled, stuffing a cucumber sandwich into his mouth as he spoke. Anders smiled. He had known Charles Bainbridge almost as long as he had known Leo, and he still wasn’t sure if there was anything the man did find exciting. He seemed to take universal displeasure in everything and everyone he encountered.
Leo, on the other hand, was ever cheerful. He laughed now. “Your turn will come, Bain.”
“As my father has every
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