The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 (11 page)

“And even that would be inadvisable,” Fulkham added. “Matters are rather strained right now between France and England. The last thing we need is some brouhaha over the charge d’affaires’ skeletons, whatever they may be. Besides, unless it was the worst sort of criminal act, he would be immune to prosecution as a diplomat.”

That hadn’t occurred to Edwin. And so far the man hadn’t committed any criminal act that Edwin knew of. Which meant it would be very difficult to banish Durand from London.

Fulkham cast him a warning glance. “I would advise your curious friend not to take on a man like the count. Durand is connected to several powerful gentlemen in France, and has a few important connections in England as well.”

Do they know he’s half-mad?
Edwin nearly asked. But he couldn’t say that. He’d have to explain, and that would mean risking Clarissa’s reputation.

“Well, then, I suppose that is that,” Edwin said smoothly. “Thank you for the information. My friend will be relieved.”

Edwin would simply have to hope that Durand’s absence at the party earlier today meant that the man had finally gotten the message and was staying
away. Because going on the offensive with the charge d’affaires didn’t appear a viable option. Which meant Edwin would of necessity be spending more time with Clarissa.

When his pulse quickened at the thought, he cursed himself for a fool. Pray God Durand was out of their hair soon. Otherwise, Edwin was in for a long and difficult Season.

“You had best go dress for dinner, my dear,” Clarissa’s mother said. “His lordship will be here in an hour.”

“There’s plenty of time,” Clarissa muttered.

The drawing room was cozy at this time of day, with the late-afternoon sun streaming in, and she was in no hurry. Indeed, she dreaded the evening ahead. She almost wished Edwin wasn’t coming to dine on this rare night when she and Mama had no engagements.

Yesterday, when he’d accompanied them to services, he’d been as stiff as a poker and had barely spoken two words. No doubt her final reaction to his kiss on Saturday night had insulted him. Lord only knew how surly he’d be at dinner.

But before she could think about going to dress, the butler appeared in the drawing room doorway to announce Edwin’s arrival.

She jumped to her feet, patting her hair feverishly. Good Lord, he was early! And when he entered, she noticed he was rather formally attired for dinner. He even wore a many-caped dress cloak that he’d apparently not allowed the footman to remove.

“We weren’t expecting you yet, sir.” She tried to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room. No doubt she looked a fright.

If she did, he didn’t seem to notice. “I fear there’s been a change of plans, ladies,” Edwin said distractedly.

Mama bolted upright. “Nothing has happened to Warren or Niall, has it?”

Edwin looked startled. “No, no, nothing like that.”

“Warren has scarcely been gone a week, Mama,” Clarissa said. “He’s probably still on the ship to Portugal. He certainly couldn’t have met with Niall yet.” Though she dreaded what he might learn when he did—that
she
was the cause of Niall’s exile. It was a constant source of shame and guilt for her.

But Niall would never reveal it. He’d kept her secret from Mama and her cousin all these years; why should he betray it now?

“Oh. Yes, you’re right.” Mama sank back in her seat. “So what is this ‘change of plans,’ Edwin?”

“I entirely forgot that I’m obligated to attend the opening of a new enterprise tonight. I won’t be able to stay for dinner. You’re welcome to go with me, but if you prefer not to, I’ll understand. It’s rather sudden, I know.”

He said it almost as if he hoped they wouldn’t go. No doubt he was tiring of fulfilling his promise to Warren now that Count Durand’s interest in her seemed to have waned.

Fine. She hadn’t wanted to dine with him, anyway. She was looking forward to a lovely evening alone with Mama. Truly, she was.

“What is the opening for?” Mama asked.

“I’m sure it’s nothing that would interest us, Mama.” Clarissa glided over to the window with studied nonchalance. “It’s probably a lecture hall or an exhibit of machines or something equally dull.”

“Actually, my Lady Spitfire,” he drawled, “it’s the reopening of the Olympic Theatre.”

She froze, then whirled on him. “Madame Vestris’s Olympic Theatre?”

“You know about it?”

“Are you mad?
Everyone
knows about it! If not for the fact that Mama and I were sequestered in the country for months, I would have bought tickets to
Olympic Revels
as soon as they went on sale.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “There’ve been none to be had for love or money these past few weeks. So how did you get them?”

He shrugged. “I’m an investor. I have three tickets, actually, but with Keane and Yvette in America—”

“You’re an investor.” She couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice. “In the Olympic Theatre.”

“You needn’t look so shocked. When Madame Vestris approached me, I agreed to put some money on her venture if she’d agree to hire a couple of the more promising lads from Preston Charity School for posts in her business office.”

“You know Madame Vestris?” she breathed. “The most celebrated opera singer, dancer, and actress in London?”

With a sudden gleam in his eyes, he waved three tickets in the air. “I could introduce you.”

She gaped at them, then snapped her mouth shut. “Give me twenty minutes to get ready.” Picking up
her skirts, she hurried for the door. “We’re most certainly going with you.”

“Twenty minutes?” Edwin snorted. “I ought to make a wager on that. I’d win handily.”

She paused to stick her tongue out at him, then rushed into the hall.

“But Clarissa,” Mama called from behind her, “what about dinner?”

“Tonight we shall live on music!” Clarissa cried with a dramatic wave of her arm.

“Music isn’t very filling, my dear!” Mama cried.

But Clarissa was already rushing up the stairs, calling for her maid. Madame Vestris! The town had been buzzing for the past month about the actress’s venture—how she’d renovated the theater in its entirety, how she meant to provide spectacular entertainments. The famous contralto and another actress were partners in it, and no one could wait to see what they had in store.

Clarissa had nearly cried when she’d realized she couldn’t get tickets. And Edwin had meant to go
without
them? She would punish him for that, just see if she didn’t. She had the perfect gown for it, too. If he
did
notice her bosoms, as he’d said at the ball, then she would certainly make him notice them tonight. And choke on his disapproval of her attire, as well.

When, an hour and a half later, she and Mama descended the stairs in full regalia, complete with satin opera cloaks, she caught Edwin glancing at his pocket watch.

“Don’t blame
me
if we’re late,” she told him with
a side glance at her mother. “I wasn’t the one who insisted upon eating dinner while dressing.” And it had taken Clarissa’s maid a good half hour to get her coiffeur, a confection of feathers and curls and ribbons, done properly.

“I’m an old woman,” her mother said with a sniff. “I get peckish.”

“You are
not
that old, Mama.”

“No matter, Lady Margrave,” Edwin said kindly and offered her his arm. “We’re not late yet. Once I realized I’d have to change my plans for the evening, I came early enough to allow plenty of time for you two to dress, in case you wanted to attend
Olympic Revels
with me. I know how long such preparations take. Not for nothing do I have a sister Clarissa’s age.”

As she followed them down the steps to the carriage, Clarissa rolled her eyes at him. “You make it sound as if I’m miles younger than you. We’re only eight years apart.”

He handed Mama into the carriage, then turned to Clarissa, his gaze glittering in the glow of the gas lamps. “Eight years can be an enormous divide.”

Unnerved by the coolness of his tone, she tipped up her chin. “Are you trying to convince yourself? Or me?”

He took her hand with a wary look. “Merely stating a fact.”

“There’s no need for the reminder,” she said as he helped her in. “I already know we’re utterly wrong for each other.”

“Clarissa, for shame,” Mama murmured as they
settled into their seats and he told the driver to go on. “His lordship is being very kind, squiring us about town like this. You should be grateful.”

She sighed. Mama had a point. “Forgive me, Edwin.” She was always willing to admit when she’d gone too far. “I’ve been in a foul mood all day, but I shouldn’t inflict it upon you.”

A cloud spread over his brow. “Nothing to do with Durand, I hope.”

“No, of course not. I would have told you first thing.” The truth was, Edwin’s searing kisses two nights ago had left her all at sea. One moment he seemed to desire her, the next he was cold and remote as usual. She’d spent the entire two days trying to make him out, with no great success.

The worst was, she didn’t want to care that he seemed to be withdrawing, but she did, and that alone was maddening.

“Per your instructions,” she went on, “we didn’t leave the house at all, not even to go shopping.”

“Good.”

As something occurred to her, she twisted the strap of her silk reticule. “You don’t think he’ll be there tonight, do you?”

“He may. But with such a crowd, he’ll have a hard time finding us. Just stay close to me, and we should be fine.”

She nodded, but her stomach knotted. She was being silly; Durand had probably lost interest once Edwin had stood up to him. She was worrying for nothing. Though she suddenly wished she hadn’t worn
quite
so daring a gown.

Edwin seemed to sense her tension, for he softened his tone. “Don’t let that arse keep you from enjoying yourself. If he’s there, just leave him to me.”

“Yes, my dear,” Mama chimed in. “I’m sure his lordship is perfectly capable of routing that Frenchman. And you do like the opera, after all.”

“It’s not opera,” she said mechanically. “From what I understand, they’re doing burlesques.”

“Oh, I love a good burlesque!” her mother cried. “Last year I saw one of
The Magic Flute
, and I nearly fell over laughing. That Mozart—what a droll fellow.”

“Mozart didn’t write the burlesque, Mama,” Clarissa said. “He wrote the original opera from which they built the parody. And that burlesque could have used a dose of Madame Vestris. She has such a way of singing things that instantly makes one smile. Don’t you agree, Edwin?”

“She does sing them very well,” he said noncommittally.

“Come now, surely even you are susceptible to Madame Vestris’s fine talent for comedic singing and dancing.” She frowned at him. “Unless it’s her famous ‘breeches’ roles that make you disapprove.”

“A woman in breeches can be very funny,” Mama put in. “You were quite comical when you dressed as Romeo for the masquerade last year, my dear.”

Clarissa saw Edwin’s shoulders stiffen and couldn’t resist tweaking his nose. “Hard not to be comical in Papa’s old breeches. They came down to my ankles and were so big in the waist, I had a difficult time keeping them up.”

“I noticed,” Edwin bit out.

“Did you?”

“Hard not to notice when you kept cinching up those braces until your . . . derriere was very prominently . . . well . . .” He muttered an oath under his breath. “Yes, I noticed you in breeches. The whole damned world noticed. The male half, at least. I can’t believe Warren let you leave the house in that.”

“
Let
me? My cousin doesn’t dictate what I wear. Anyway, it was a masquerade. I wore a mask. No one knew who I was.”

“The devil they didn’t. And Warren considers it his duty to look after you. Which means making sure you don’t attract unwanted attention.”

“Warren didn’t know what I was wearing until I arrived. I came down with my cloak already on.” When his eyes narrowed as it apparently dawned on him that she’d done the same this evening, she added hastily, “This is why you and I would never suit, you know. You have no sense of fun.”

That brought him up short. He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not true. Didn’t you hear Miss Trevor at the museum? She said I was surprisingly droll.”

“That’s one instance—hardly enough to form a pattern.” She straightened her gloves. “Why, you can’t even go ten minutes without chiding me for something.”

“Nonsense. If I so chose, I could go an entire evening without chiding you.”

“Could you? Prove it.” The minute she said it, she questioned her sanity. Hadn’t she ended up regretting her previous attempt to set a task for him?

Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten that, for fire leapt in his eyes. “And if I do? What do I get as my reward?”

When his gaze drifted down to her arm, she swallowed hard, remembering the last reward he’d exacted. At least he wouldn’t dare choose such an outrageous prize tonight, since Mama was listening to the exchange quite avidly.

Although Mama would probably approve whatever prize Edwin asked for. She wasn’t exactly known for being a strict chaperone.

“Well?” he prodded.

“You get the satisfaction of knowing you are improving yourself.”

“That’s not much of an incentive.” The sudden gleam in his eyes gave her pause. “How about this? If I succeed in going an entire night without making a single criticism of you—”

“Or my attire or my manners or—”

“Anything in your sphere,” he said irritably.

“I’m just making sure we agree on the rules from the beginning.” After last time, she wasn’t letting him play fast and loose with her demands.

“Fine. If I behave to your specifications, then the next time I come to dine, you must wear breeches the entire evening.” He paused, then amended, “Breeches that
fit
, mind you.”

Oh, dear, he made that sound . . . rather wicked. It wasn’t like him at all. In fact, it shocked her he would suggest such a thing, and he was rarely shocking.

Her mother, however, didn’t seem to find it shocking at all, for she clapped her hands. “Oh, that would be such fun!”