Love Is Blind Part 8

"I got the shock of my life when I saw you lying there," Adrian continued grimly. "What were you doing? How did you end up in there?"

"I was coming to meet you, as you asked, but hit my head on a branch. I remember falling forward before I blacked out, but..." Clarissa frowned, then shook her head. "I must have stumbled."

"Meet me?" Adrian asked.

She frowned at the surprise in his voice. 'Yes, I got your letter. I-"

"My lady?"

They both turned to peer at the dark shape that hurried down the path toward them. "I am sorry to intrude, but your mother is asking after you. We must go, my lady. I have to get you changed and ..." There was a pause; then Joan asked with alarm, "What have you done to your dress?"

" 'Tis all right, Joan. I fear I had a little spill," Clarissa said. Adrian helped her to her feet.

"Oh! I knew I should have accompanied you." The maid shook her head, sounding exasperated as she added, "I shall insist next time. Now, come, we have to go."

"I have to go," Clarissa echoed apologetically as Joan began to tug her away. "I am sorry we did not get the chance to talk, my lord. I came as quickly as I could in response to your note. Perhaps we will meet again soon."

"Note?" Adrian frowned as the pair disappeared down the dark trail and back through the woods to the house. He hadn't sent any note. But it was possible Reginald had found it impossible to talk to Clarissa alone, and slipped her one. Adrian had asked his cousin to approach her as soon as he arrived, and to ask her to meet him here by the fountain. This was the only place Adrian had known to suggest for a meeting to take place. He'd never seen the Crambray home, inside or out, but Clarissa had mentioned the fountain during their picnic at the Devereauxs' ball. She'd thought that the Devereauxs could do with a fountain just like it.

Sighing, Adrian turned to peer at the structure. He could understand why Clarissa liked it; most peaceful it was to stand and listen to the soothing sound of water. Mind, it hadn't been nearly so peaceful when Clarissa's body had been floating within.

Adrian shuddered and ran his hands over his face to wipe away the memory. It was the very last thing he'd expected to find after climbing over the back gate and into the yard. His whole plan had been born of desperation. It had been a week since he'd seen Clarissa and shared a first kiss. He had gone home that night feeling on top of the world. His plan had worked beautifully. The picnic had been a great success. She had been pleased. The kiss had been a wonderful bonus. Adrian hadn't intended to take such liberties, but she'd stood there, her eyes glowing with happiness in the moonlight, her lips a soft curve as beautiful and velvety-looking as the petals of a rose, and he hadn't been able to help himself. He'd wanted to sip of that glowing happiness curving her lips.

Once he'd kissed her, however, Adrian had realized the mistake he'd made. She was soft and warm and melted into him like b.u.t.ter dissolving into toast, and he'd wanted to do much more than kiss her. That was why he'd made himself end the kiss so soon. He'd left the Devereauxs' feeling both excited and eager to see her again.

Adrian had made many plans since on how best to separate her from her stepmother at future b.a.l.l.s, to get her alone to read to her or maybe dance in the gardens, or picnic again, or perhaps even kiss. He'd enlisted his mother's aid, both of his cousins, and even some of their friends to prepare for the opportunity. But it was all to no avail. Clarissa and her stepmother hadn't attended a single ball since.

Adrian had even finally hired a man to find out what they were doing that might keep them away from b.a.l.l.s, to find any information that he might exploit to see her. However, it appeared they'd been doing nothing. Neither woman had left the house this whole last week. It would have concerned Adrian greatly, except his man had learned by bribing a staff member or two that neither lady was ill; Lady Crambray had simply canceled attendance of all b.a.l.l.s and refused all visitors. Even Reginald had been turned away when Adrian had talked him into trying to collect Clarissa for another ride through the park.

Adrian had feared that Lady Crambray somehow found out about their little picnic, and he had become sure of it when Prudhomme made a sarcastic comment to him at one of the b.a.l.l.s he'd attended. And so, the moment Adrian heard about the ball her stepmother planned, he'd come up with a scheme to get to speak to Clarissa.

While he hadn't been invited to the ball, and neither had Adrian's mother or his cousin Mary, nor even Reginald, one of Reginald's friends had, and Reginald had accompanied that friend tonight. His sole purpose in coming had been to send Clarissa out here to meet with Adrian, who would climb the back gate, find die fountain, and wait for her there. Adrian had left home early, intending to be waiting long before Reginald arrived to send Clarissa out, and so he had been shocked to arrive at the fountain to find her floating in it. He'd thought his heart would stop at the sight of her slight body floating in the shallow water, her gown and hair billowing about her in the moonlight.

"Adrian?"

He stilled at that whisper, and glanced toward the path where Reginald appeared and hurried toward him.

"There you are." His cousin paused at his side, glancing around at the spot chosen for the rendezvous and nodding in approval. "This should do nicely." , "For what?" Adrian asked with confusion.

"For your meeting with Clarissa," Reginald explained. Then he added, "Speaking of which, I have yet to see her and tell her to come out here. Her maid apparently took her away to change her gown or something, and has not yet returned. I only came out to let you know that so you would not worry. I am sure she shall return to the party soon, and I shall ask to be shown the gardens and bring her to you.

"But never fear; I will not stay with you," he added rea.s.suringly. "I shall leave as soon as I have brought her, and will wait by the house to escort her back in when the two of you are finished."

Adrian stared at Reginald, confusion suffusing him. "You mean, you have not yet given her the message?"

"No. As I say, she is up in her room at the moment, and has been since I arrived."

"But she said she got my note." Adrian frowned. "I thought you had perhaps had trouble talking to her alone, and had given her a note instead."

"No." Reginald frowned. 'You mean she was here? You have already seen her?"

"Yes," Adrian murmured thoughtfully. "She was here when I arrived, floating unconscious in the fountain. She ran into a branch and knocked herself out, apparently. Landed in the water."

Adrian suddenly turned to survey the fountain, then the path. Reginald made a sound of disgust and said, "Lady Crambray is an idiot. That girl is going to end up dead in one of these accidents, and all because of her ridiculous refusal to allow spectacles."

"I begin to wonder if these are accidents," Adrian said.

Reginald blinked. "Oh?"

"Well, I did not send her a note. And if you did not give her a message, Reginald, who did?"

His cousin frowned. 'You did not send her a note?" he repeated.

"No. Why would I? You were to give her the message for me. Besides, I know she cannot see without her spectacles. She could not read a note. I would never send her a written message."

"Her maid could read it to her," Reginald pointed out.

"Yes, but that is not the point. The point is, I did not send it."

"Right. Oh ... I say!" Realization struck. "If you did not, who did?"

"I do not know." Adrian frowned and moved to the path to peer up at the branches overhead. None of them was low enough for Clarissa to hit her head on them. Not if she'd been on the path. He supposed she could have been off the path a bit, but that would have been noticeable. In fact, it would have been a struggle for her to get through the foliage that lined the path in her long skirt.

Adrian turned and peered back at the fountain again, recalling the wound on her forehead. How could she have stumbled from the edge of the path to the fountain to fall in? Even if she'd been dazed and still on her feet...

"What are you doing?" Reginald asked, moving to his side.

"Clarissa said she hit her head on a branch and fell into the fountain."

Reginald glanced around, then shook his head, echoing Adrian's own thoughts. "That is not possible. There are no branches for her to have hit her head on."

"I know," Adrian said with a frown. "But someone gave her a message to come out here; then she somehow ended up with a head wound and floating in that fountain. If I had not come along, Clarissa would have died. In fact, I feared for her life when I first saw her."

Reginald was silent, his eyes moving over the fountain and then s.h.i.+fting to examine the trees. They returned to the fountain. 'You think someone lured her out here ... to do her harm?"

Adrian remained silent. When spoken out loud it sounded ridiculous, but...

"Why?" Reginald asked, apparently taking his silence as an affirmative. "Why would anyone harm her?"

"I do not know," he admitted.

His cousin frowned and then said, "And who else knows about the two of you? Am I not the only one?"

"I am not sure. Mother and Mary know, of course, but they would not be behind this." Adrian frowned. "But Prudhomme may know as well."

"Prudhomme?" Reginald said with surprise.

Adrian nodded. "I think he might have spotted us in the garden that night Mother arranged it for our picnic. I did not see him, and I could be wrong, but he made a snide comment to me the other night about 'kissing Clarissa in the moonlight.'"

"Hmm." Reginald frowned, then asked, "What about her maid?"

"Whose maid? Clarissa's?" Adrian frowned and then nodded. "I suppose Joan must know. She is the one who fetched Clarissa back to the house, because her mother was looking for her. She was not surprised to see me here." Adrian shook his head and added, "But she knows Clarissa cannot read without her spectacles."

"Hmmph." Reginald frowned suddenly and asked, "How did Clarissa read it, then?"

"I do not know," Adrian admitted.

They were both silent for a moment; then Reginald said, "What makes you so sure this was not just an accident-like all her other accidents?"

"Because I did not send her a message except through you," Adrian reminded him.

'Yes, but..." His cousin frowned and then suggested, "The letter could have been a prank, and the rest just an accident."

"There is no branch for her to have run into," Adrian pointed out. Then he added, "And now I am starting to wonder about these other accidents as well. She's had an awful lot of them-falling down stairs, stepping out in front of a horse and buggy ..."

"Oh, now, Adrian! I fear you are losing my support here. Clarissa is as blind as a bat without her spectacles. She set her teacup in my lap thinking it was a table," Reg pointed out. "She set Prudhomme's wig on fire. A fall down the stairs, and her having stepped in front of that carriage-that is hardly surprising."

"I suppose so," Adrian acquiesced, but then he added, "I need to talk to her."

"There is probably no way to get her out here now. 'Tis growing late. Besides, her stepmother was heading off to look for Clarissa when I stopped to talk to her and asked where the girl was. She was changing. It does not sound to me like she was likely to let Clarissa out of her sight for long. Perhaps we should give it up for tonight and think of a better plan for tomorrow."

Adrian gave a grunt that might have been agreement, but his gaze was on a window on the second floor of the house. Candlelight had filled the room several moments before, and he could now see the silhouettes of two women. When the taller began to undress the smaller, he realized it must be Clarissa and her maid. He watched as her clothes were stripped away, article by article.

"Did you hear me, Adrian?"

He glanced reluctantly to the side to see Reginald frowning. "What?"

"I said, I am going to return to the party, make my excuses and go home."

"Very well," Adrian murmured, his gaze flas.h.i.+ng back to the window. He was vaguely aware of his cousin saying something and moving off, but the bulk of his mind was focused on the scene taking place in the bedroom.

He continued to watch right up until the women disappeared, taking the candlelight with them; then Adrian knew what he had to do. He had to climb up to her room and wait for Clarissa to return. Then he would ask her about tonight and the other accidents she'd encountered. He was sure from this he would learn whether there was something for him to worry about or not.

Satisfied with his plan, Adrian made his way closer to the house to survey the tree outside her window. It looked like it would be an easy climb.

"The party ended earlier than expected."

Clarissa smiled faintly at Joan's observation and gave a weary shrug.

'Yes. Lydia will not be pleased. I escaped just as the last guests were leaving, to avoid her wrath."

A successful party was one that lasted until nearly dawn. By that accounting, Lydia's party wasn't a success. Her stepmother would be livid. The woman was short-tempered at the best of times; she'd be impossible to live with tomorrow. Clarissa muttered to herself as Joan undid her gown.

"How is your head?" the maid asked as she began to remove the dress.

Clarissa grimaced at the reminder she didn't need about her head wound. Fortunately, the branch had hit her high and mostly on the side, leaving any mark hidden in her hair, but she didn't have to see it to know it was there. Her head had been aching most of the evening. However, all she said was, "It will be fine by morning, I am sure."

"Is it aching?" Joan asked with concern. "Would you like a draft?"

"No, no. Thank you, Joan, but I shall be fine."

The maid hesitated, then nodded and carried her gown over to lay it upon die chair by the wardrobe, to be cleaned on the morrow. "That reminds me, did you tell Lord Mowbray to send future messages to me?"

"No. We did not really get the chance to talk. I did not even get the opportunity to ask him why he wished o see me," Clarissa admitted, and heard Joan tut-tut as had wasted an opportunity. But there had been no opportunity to waste! The maid had rushed her back to the house to change into a fresh, dry dress before she could really talk. If she and Adrian had shared even a minute to speak, Clarissa would have asked him why he'd wished her to meet him. Still, since Lydia had been heading upstairs to find out what was taking them so long when they'd started down, Clarissa supposed her maid's decision had been a good one.

There," the woman said, dropping a nightgown over Clarissa's head. "I brought you warm cocoa to help you sleep."

"Thank you, Joan. Truly, for everything," she added solemnly.

"You are welcome, my lady," the maid said quietly as she moved to the door. "Sleep well."

Clarissa heard the door click shut as she turned to make her way to the bed. Joan had set the candle on the bedside table for her so that all she had to do was blow it out. She did so, careful not to get too close to the flame, and then lay down. Her head ached and she was exhausted-far too tired even to bother with the cocoa, lovely as it smelled.

Clarissa then lay there, wondering why Adrian had wanted to see her and wis.h.i.+ng they'd had a better chance to interact. Life was always more exciting when he was around. She smiled as she drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Clarissa was dreaming about Adrian. He'd taken her out on a lake in a small boat, and was reciting poetry to her as he rowed across the placid water. Unlike the poetry Prudhomme had read, this was beautiful, heart-wrenching prose about unending pa.s.sions and undying love. But he paused suddenly, tilted his head, and said, "Clarissa? Where the h.e.l.l are you? Ouch! Dammit. Clarissa?"

Frowning, she blinked her eyes open and was suddenly awake. But the dream didn't end: Adrian's voice followed her.

"Clarissa? Say something. I cannot see a d.a.m.ned thing."

"Adrian?" she murmured sleepily.

"Clarissa?" His voice was a whisper in the darkness, coming from somewhere beyond the foot of her bed.

Awake now but still confused, Clarissa gave her head a shake. She must still be dreaming, she thought. It was the middle of the night. He couldn't really be in her bed chamber. Could he?

"Ouch."

What on earth ... ? Sitting up in bed, Clarissa stared into the dark with incredulity. "Adrian?"

'Yes. Where are you? I cannot see a d.a.m.ned thing. Keep talking. I shall follow your voi- Ouch! Dammit. Why is there furniture in the middle of the floor?"

The bed shook as he b.u.mped into it, and Clarissa squinted into the darkness and asked in an amazed whisper, "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you, and since we cannot seem to meet in the normal way, I- What is that?" he paused to ask with surprise.

"My foot under the blankets," she answered dryly, giving her toes a wiggle; then she reached out toward him. Clarissa was used to being blind, but usually she could at least see colorful blurs. This was much worse. She touched what she thought must be his chest. At least, she hoped it was his chest. His hand covered hers, and Adrian allowed her to pull him forward, leading him around toward the head of the bed.

"Do you have a candle? 'Tis dark as night in here."