Page 26 of The Rakehell of Roth
With a grateful smile, Isobel scooted up and tucked in beside her best friend. “They do, don’t they?”
Clarissa turned to face her, a small grin overtaking her morose expression. “Speaking of waltzing, I thought Winter was going to deflower you then and there in the middle of the ballroom floor.”
“He already deflowered me, remember?” she said dryly.
“Pollinate, then.” She sighed. “Honestly, watching the two of you was the only way I could endure dancing with that dreary prude, Oliver. You should have heard him raging on and on about Winter’s proclivities. I almost told him that he would benefit from letting loose a little and taking a page from his brother’s book, but that man was truly born to be a vicar, not anything else. Those two could not be more polar opposites—the pervert and the prude.”
“Was itthatbad?”
Clarissa rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Think of the worst possible thing you’ve ever endured and multiply it by a thousand. That still won’t cover it.”
“What happened between the two of you?” Isobel asked, curious. “Surely you used to be friends growing up. You were friends with Winter, weren’t you?
“Yes. We all were.” Clarissa’s eyes grew distant. “Unfortunately, Oliver never outgrew his childhood rivalry with Winter. It got more serious the older they became, and when Oliver got Winter injured when they were fifteen, I decided enough was enough and confronted him about it. He accused me of being nothing but a naive little girl, in love with a boy who could never love her back, and then told the duke awful lies about me.” She pursed her lips. “I was never in love with Winter. He was like another brother to me. But Oliver could never get past his own biases. The man’s a bird-witted cod’s head who can’t see past his own nose to what is right in front of him.”
Reading between the lines, Isobel gasped in disbelief. She couldn’t even focus on Clarissa’s creative name calling, though she would agree that Oliver was the worst kind of fool. “Good heavens, Clarissa, did youfancyOliver?”
“Hush, you’ll wake the twins.”
“Stop evading and answer the question or maybe I will wake them and let them in on the juicy secret.”
“Don’t you dare!” Clarissa set her lips into a scowl. “When I was a girl, maybe. Now, I despise him. And the feeling is nauseatingly mutual. Let’s talk about something more interesting than Lord Tight-Arse before I get angry all over again.”
“Is it?”
“Is it what?”
Isobel smirked. “Tight.”
Clarissa’s cheeks went crimson. “Shut up.”
Laughing, Isobel narrowed her eyes as a thought occurred to her, given what she’d just learned and the fact that Clarissa might still harbor feelings for a man she claimed to hate. “Wait a moment,” she said, her suspicions deepening. “About that snooping mask you had in your possession the other day…”
Clarissa groaned. “You were supposed to forget that.”
Isobel shot her with an unblinking stare. “Confess, wench.”
“Fine, very well. ItisOliver, if you must know. It’s only to get information, you see. I’m worried about him with Winter. He’s up to something and I’m determined to prove it.”
“So let me get this straight—you’re spying on Oliver toprotectWinter? That poor excuse for an explanation has more holes in it than a fishing net.”
Clarissa nodded, but kept her eyes firmly on the ceiling. “It’s true.”
Isobel didn’t believe that for one second. Clarissa was up to something. She rarely did anything without a thorough scheme. “So what do you think he’s planning then?”
“I think he intends to discredit Winter somehow. I found notes in his room on The Silver Scythe and information about a meeting with an earl about a sum of money owed to him.”
“What’s The Silver Scythe?”
“A gentlemen’s gaming club, I think.” Clarissa gave another ferocious blush, her hands twisting in the folds of her night rail. “At least that’s what it looked like.”
“Clarissa Gwendolyn Bell,” Isobel said in a hushed whisper. “Have you been to this gentlemen’s club?”
“Only the outside,” she replied, her blush going deeper. “I followed Oliver there once without his knowledge.”
Wide-eyed, Isobel chucked her friend in the arm. “You heathen! I must insist that if you return, I have to accompany you. Did you discover anything else in his room?”
Clarissa shook her head. “It’s not enough that he covets Winter’s downfall; I worry things will get out of hand. I’ve never seen anyone so consumed with hostility, and it’s gotten worse over the years. Oliver can’t move past his own bitterness.”
