Clementine and her Stalker (standard:romance, 2377 words) [5/7] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Jan 27 2021	Views/Reads: 1153/776	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Chapter four of my romance novel - a student falls for a beautiful girl, not knowing of her notorious past, or that she's aristocratic.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


The earl was on his way? My immediate reaction was to turn on my heels
and scurry away out the doors, but my intensifying association with 
Clementine wouldn't allow me to do it. I'd probably regret it later for 
sure – but my desire to see her outweighed my trepidation. 

As I recall it now, somewhere in the back of my mind was the question
why the staff member had addressed me as Stalker – had it been Clem? 
Was her memory sufficiently restored now that she'd fully recovered? 
Still, the prospect of meeting her father, the earl, and presumably 
incurring his wrath, wasn't something I wanted to contemplate. As it 
was, though, as previously touched on, my concern for Clementine 
outweighed everything. 

*** 

I found Clementine's private room on the first floor, knocked, and stuck
my head in the door. 

“Stalker! I've been wondering what happened to you.” She beamed her
devastating smile and beckoned me in. 

“And I've been wondering how you are,” I said, taking a seat by the side
of her bed. 

She shook her head, the smile subsiding. “Have a monster headache.” She
pulled herself up so her back was resting on the pillows. “What on 
earth happened? I'm drawing a blank on everything after yesterday 
afternoon.” 

“Not surprised you're drawing a blank ...” I gave her a wane smile.
“Your cousin Guy plied you with drinks. We went with him to Richmond, 
against my better judgement.” I threw my hands in the air. “After that, 
you took a running jump, dived into a rowing boat, and ended up in the 
Thames.” 

Clem groaned, swept a hand over her blonde ringlets, still amazingly
unaffected despite her ordeal, it seemed. “Crikey.” She felt her 
forehead. “There's a lump on my head, hurts like ...” Clem paused. “I 
guess that's the culprit then, silly old boat ...” 

I rolled my eyes, and she saw it. 

“What?” 

I leaned forward in the seat, clasped my hands together. “I don't think
the boat was quite ready to be rowed ... it was moored. What's more, I 
don't think the sailor was quite ready, either.” 

Clem sniffed, turned away, and then back, shooting those amazing blue
eyes right at me. “Are you upset with me, Stalker?” 

I shook my head; the smile came no matter how I tried to resist. “You
seem to be on the mend ... that's the important thing.” 

Clem nodded, breathed out heavily. “Damned claustrophobic in here, feels
like my room back in the dormitory.” She levelled her eyes at me again. 


“They say I was concussed; must have hit my head on the boat. I must
have swum ashore then, did I?” 

I shook my head, was about to elaborate when Clem added, “My father's on
his way, apparently. So I'm going to end up in a rather sticky mess.” 

She reached for my hand, squeezed it. “I'm so sorry, Stalker. I should
have listened. Should have left when you said.” She clutched her 
temple. “Agh – they gave me painkillers. But they're not working. 
Anyway, the thing is, I'm not sure how long I'm going to be here, but 
it doesn't look like I'll be accompanying you back.” Her grip on my 
hand tightened. "But thanks for sticking with me, and I'm sure we'll 
see each other again.” 

I took that as my cue to leave. Her father was on his way, and I'd done
all I could. Apart from the memory loss and the headache, Clem seemed 
fine. 

I bent down, kissed her on the cheek, and she leaned into me and did
likewise, sending warm tingles through me. Then I saw it – the 
moisture, the first sign of emotion in her startling eyes. 

“See you.” I turned to go, feeling a lump in my throat, and then the
door opened. 

“Clementine,” a voice boomed. “What on earth happened to you? Don't you
ever learn? The earl marched forward, loomed over her bed. 

“I fell into the river,” Clem said so matter-of-factly that I had to
force back a snigger. Then she focused on me and added, “I think.” 

“You think?” The earl followed Clem's line of sight. “And who – who in
the blazes are you?” He pointed an accusing finger. “Are you Stalker? I 
specifically ...” 

Stalker. “Oh, don't you start,” I said, automatically interrupting him.”


“What? I beg your pardon, young man.” The earl, a big man, glared at me.
“That is no way to address a peer of the realm. Are you being 
facetious?” 

“I mean no disrespect, Sir, I said, trying my best to put on a humble
face. “It's just that my name is Tony ... Tony Williams, not Stalker.” 
I shot Clem an exasperated glance. 

“It's just my nickname for him, Father,” Clem contributed. “He's my
friend.” 

“Williams, Stalker, whatever your damn name is, boy, I have it on good
grounds that you're responsible for this. Wait outside if you know 
what's good for you. I wish to speak privately with my daughter ... and 
then we'll have words.” 

Clem frowned. Made a face at her dad when his back was turned, and I
couldn't resist the snigger despite the severity of the situation. I 
covered my face but could still feel the earl's eyes glowering at my 
back as I closed the door behind me. 

*** 

It must have been thirty minutes before his lordship came out of Clem's
private room, and immediately his stony eyes turned to me. He raised a 
finger, pointed at me, then the exit. “Since I can't get any sense out 
of my daughter, which is far from abnormal, we're going to have a 
little chat.” He paused. “Outside.” 

I felt like telling him he had no powers to detain me if I didn't wish
to be detained, but his bigger-than-thou attitude had wound me up, earl 
or no earl. I shrugged. “Okay, whatever you say, Dukie.” 

“What did you call me? In any case, I'm an earl,” he raged, an index
finger an inch from my nose – "not a duke – and you keep this up boy 
and ...” 

“And what?” I shrugged again. “All the same to me, except I guess a duke
pulls rank on you.” 

He marched outside, or stomped would be closer to the mark, but I
delayed responding – letting him reach the exit doors before I'd even 
moved, and by the time I caught up with him, his complexion was a 
deeper shade of beetroot. 

He hurried down the stairs, expecting me to follow, but just to wind him
up further, I took the lift. 

When I emerged from the lift, he was waiting by the main doors. I
envisaged him clawing his feet like a bull preparing to charge, and in 
reality, that was how he appeared. I'd formed a picture in my mind of a 
pompous, overbearing man who'd made Clem's life a misery over the 
years, and to my mind, it wasn't surprising that Clem had been 
hell-bent on getting back at him. So I was going to back her up and to 
hell with it. 

*** 

The earl took me outside and across the road. I felt like an errant
schoolboy trailing behind him as he charged along. There was a bench 
nearby, a small green surrounding it. The earl abruptly swung around, 
thrust an index finger towards it. “Sit down.” 

I shook my head, wasn't about to be intimidated by him. “No thanks, I'd
rather stand.” 

“Very well.” The earl paced back and forth, hands behind his back like a
barrister addressing a jury. 

“Now see here, Stalker. I have received information from a trusted
source that you lured my daughter away from London, plied her with 
drink intending to eventually seduce her – but your vile plan went awry 
when Lady Clementine, wayward child as she is, I have to accept, ended 
up in the Thames, necessitating my nephew to very bravely rush to her 
aid.” 

I was livid, knowing full well whose mouth had been at work here. The
earl had been supplied with erroneous information, and there was no 
doubt from where it had originated. 

I held the palms of my hands up, thrust them out at him. “Before you go
any further,” I interrupted, that's not how it was – bluntly, Earl, 
you've been fed a load of crap, presumably by your nephew.” 

The earl stormed up to me, all but in my face. “Damn you, man, for your
impertinence! Are you calling my nephew a liar?” 

Determined to maintain eye contact and not wilt beneath his furious
stare, I told him, “Yes. What other term is there for someone who 
deliberately does not tell the truth? True, Clementine was plied with 
numerous drinks, but they came from your nephew and not from me. 
Basically, Earl, I think he panicked when Clementine ... Lady 
Clementine ... hit the water and made up a cock and bull story. He 
certainly vanished quickly enough. Rushing off, effectively abandoning 
her.” 

“Look here, Stalker ...” the earl was colouring dangerously, beetroot no
longer an adequate description. “If this preposterous allegation were 
to have a grain of substance, who on earth rescued my daughter? Are you 
trying to tell me she pulled herself out?” 

“No,” I said abruptly. “I did.” 

The earl shook his head, beads of perspiration on his forehead. “No,
I'll not have it. Your accusations are scandalous.” 

“Look Your ...” I baulked, couldn't think of how to address him
correctly, but the man was obviously becoming dangerously overwrought. 
I was genuinely worried about his health. “Look, sir, I'm not obliged 
to do this, but I'll supply you with my name and address, and when the 
truth comes out, and it surely will, then you can write to me and 
apologise for your own accusations.” 

The earl studied me for a moment, took a notebook and pen from his
jacket pocket, and jotted down the details I gave him. He sniffed. 
“These could be any Tom, Dick, or Harry's details.” 

I folded my arms. “They could, sir, but they're not.” 

The earl waved his notebook at me. “If they're not, and when my daughter
regains her senses and verifies my nephew's account, I'll be making 
this a police matter. Do you understand? I'm an earl after all, and 
what I say carries weight.” 

“I've no doubt.” Struggling to keep my equilibrium but also worried at
the same time about the earl's condition, I said, “Please calm down, 
sir, and return to your daughter.” 

I touched him on the shoulder and walked away.  


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