Thomas Jordan The earl rode out the next day to search for Jason’s father in Kensington. He should really have been paying a call on Chloris Deveney, the only lady he had danced with at the ball, but had sent his servant instead to present his compliments. How awkward it had been dancing with Chloris. He should not have asked her to waltz. She was so very small and dainty and yet he had not felt protective or manly in the least. She had talked a great deal and he had had to bend his head to catch what she was saying. Unlike Clarissa. But he hadn’t danced with Clarissa. Hadn’t had the opportunity. But he would have been able to look into her eyes and hear every word she said. He would have been able to confide his worries about Bella and Angela to her. But at least Clarissa was happy now. She had her beau. She had written to her father to ask for money to buy the Tribbles a new drawing-room carpet. The viscount, grateful that his daughter did not seem to have committed any major follies, because the earl had taken full responsibility for the disaster to the coach, had sent a generous sum and Clarissa had ordered a very fine blue-and-rose Chinese carpet which had been delivered that very day while she was entertaining Lord Sandford.
