The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 (14 page)

Stifling a groan, Clarissa said meaningfully, “I’m sure Count Durand is eager to get Lady Anne back to her mother.”

When Mama paled, it was obvious she hadn’t meant to include the count in her invitation. But she could hardly take it back now.

Especially since Lady Anne had apparently decided that Clarissa’s loss could be her gain. “No reason for that. I’ll just pop down and tell Mama where the count and I are. I’m sure we’d love to stay here.” She tucked her hand in the crook of the count’s arm. “Wouldn’t we, sir?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” the wretch drawled.

“No doubt,” Edwin gritted out.

Lord, what a mess! As she and Edwin took their seats, she noticed Mama trying to remedy the situation by inviting Lady Anne and the count to sit beside her. But Count Durand was having none of that, and he and Lady Anne situated themselves right behind Edwin and Clarissa.

Clarissa could only sit there stewing. However would she get a chance to talk to Edwin about how to deal with their “engagement”?

Edwin must have realized her state of mind, for as the scene began, he gave her hand a quick, furtive squeeze.

Meeting his gaze, she mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he mouthed back. “It will be fine.”

She wasn’t so sure.

The next hour was an agony. Too upset over the count’s meddling, she couldn’t concentrate on the hodgepodge of songs and comical scenes that made up the second piece.

Was she just imagining it, or was Count Durand’s gaze boring into her back? Having him behind her and not knowing for certain if his eyes were fixed on her made her skin crawl. There was something distinctly wrong with that man.

Either that or she did actually put off an inexplicable scent or air or
something
that made men want to possess her at any cost. She always seemed to be fending off gentlemen who bullied their way into her life.

Except for Edwin, of course. She didn’t have to fend
him
off. Ever since their kiss, he’d gone back to keeping a discreet distance between them.

So when she slid a glance in his direction, she was surprised to find him watching her with that dark, brooding look he got sometimes, the one that roused a strange quivering low in her belly.

It made no sense. He didn’t like her. He didn’t approve of her. Why must he look at her that way, as if he were trying to understand her better? Edwin didn’t want to understand anybody, especially her. Did he?

She tore her gaze from his and tried to concentrate on the performances. But it was impossible. Because of the extra people in the box, they’d had to bring in more chairs and pull them closer together, so Edwin’s leg lay snug up against hers from thigh to calf.

Did he realize it? If it had been any other man, she would have assumed that he did, but with Edwin, it was impossible to know. The man was so impenetrable, he could out-riddle the Sphinx.

Whatever the reason, the sensation of having his leg pressed against hers felt much too intimate for the theater. Much too intimate for anywhere.

How ridiculous. It was only a leg—everyone had them. So why was her blood rustling through her veins like a tiger stirring in deep grasses? Why was her breath coming in hard hitches?

She drew her leg casually away from his. She was just overly aware of him tonight because of Count Durand. Thanks to the Frenchman, Edwin would once again have to be jilted, and she hated that.

The second hour of
Olympic Revels
ended after what seemed like an eternity. But even as Edwin rose and asked her, “Would you like to go downstairs to
view the renovations to the lobby?” a knock came at the door.

When it was opened, the same servant entered who’d escorted them to the box earlier. He bowed to Edwin. “My lord, Madame Vestris sent me to ask if you and your two guests would wish to pay her a visit in her dressing room.”

Clarissa drew in a sharp breath. That was a distinct honor.

Edwin seemed conscious of it, too, for he lifted an eyebrow at her. “Well?”

“Do you really need to ask? Of
course
I wish to go!” She could meet Madame Vestris
and
escape the count.

She turned to her mother, who was busily chatting with her friends about wedding plans. “Mama, do you want to join me and Edwin? Madame Vestris has invited us to her dressing room.”

“That is
most
kind of her,” Mama said. “Though you know I cannot go. All that tramping up and down stairs is too hard on my poor hip. But I realize that you admire the woman, so you should visit her.” Mama’s gaze lighted briefly on the count. “And now that you and Edwin are betrothed, well . . . I do believe it would be all right for me to remain here and entertain our guests.”

Clarissa fought to hide her relief that Mama was staying behind. Perhaps she could keep the count from dogging their steps, and that would give Clarissa a chance to speak privately to Edwin. “Yes, I’m sure it would be considered quite respectable,” Clarissa said, though she wasn’t sure of any such thing.

And one glance at Durand showed he was none
too happy about her and Edwin going off together. That alone made her determined to do it.

Her mother smiled. “But do tell Madame Vestris how pleased I am that we could come and see her newly appointed theater.”

“Yes, Mama.”

As Clarissa and Edwin followed the servant to the door, her mother called out, “Oh, and tell her how much I’m enjoying the burlesque.”

“Of course,” Clarissa said.

They were nearly into the hall when her mother’s voice wafted to her. “And ask her to sign a playbill for me!”

“I will! We’re going now!” Clarissa called back.

As she shut the door firmly, the servant paused. “Are you sure her ladyship does not wish to join us?”

“We’re sure,” Edwin answered.

His rumble of a voice made her heart skip. Just a little, mind. Nothing unsettling.

No, the unsettling part was how easily he guided her through the crowded passageways. For a man who wasn’t good with people, he certainly knew how to maneuver around them.

Twice, he laid his hand in the small of her back to steer her, and she felt the heat of it like a brand. Once, he even tugged her close to prevent her being run down by a rushing maid, and Clarissa stumbled against him, forcing him to steady her with both hands on her waist.

“All right?” he asked, his gaze playing over her as if checking for injuries.

She nodded.

But she wasn’t all right. This night had thrown
her into turmoil. First Durand’s deliberate meddling and now Edwin’s disturbing effect on her. She truly didn’t know what to think or how to act.

As the servant boy led them through a warren of passageways to the backstage area of the theater, she wished she could just pull Edwin into a nearby room and discuss their increasingly precarious situation. But Madame Vestris was waiting, and Clarissa didn’t mean to lose her chance to meet the famous actress.

Besides, she was curious about Edwin’s friendship with the woman. He hadn’t yet explained why he’d been asked to invest in the theater in the first place. If they had only been friends in childhood . . .

What if it was more? What if he was hiding some secret affair with the actress? Madame Vestris was rumored to be quite pretty, after all, and men
were
men. Even Edwin.

Oh, she was being silly. Edwin having secret affairs—the very idea was ludicrous.

Still, it was a bit unnerving to find that in person, the actress was more than pretty—she was gorgeous. With her shiny dark curls, large brown eyes, olive skin, and perfectly oval face, she had the look of a seductress.

And when the woman greeted Edwin by his Christian name and kissed him on the cheek, a sudden unexpected pang seized Clarissa’s chest.

He nodded coolly. “Good to see you again, Lucia.”

Lucia?
He called the actress by her Christian name? Well, of course he did. They’d known each other from childhood. Clarissa was really letting her imagination run away with her.

After all, the woman showed no sign of caring that Edwin was with another lady. And when Edwin introduced Clarissa, Madame Vestris was more than gracious, asking what they thought of the performances and whether the box was comfortable.

Then her servant stepped up to whisper in her ear, and Madame Vestris shot them a broad smile. “I’m told, Lord Blakeborough, that Lady Clarissa is your fiancée. Please accept my congratulations.”

Clarissa sighed. The news was already starting to spread. She’d forgotten that the servant had heard Mama speak of their betrothal.

“Thank you.” Edwin took Clarissa’s hand. “We’re very happy.”

He didn’t
sound
very happy.

Guilt stabbed her. When she’d agreed to the scheme, she hadn’t expected Count Durand to wreak such havoc on their lives.
Edwin’s
life, in particular.

Madame Vestris, too, must have heard the reserve in his voice, for she assessed Clarissa with a searching glance. “Any woman who has succeeded in capturing the heart of his lordship must be exceptional indeed.”

That sent Clarissa’s mind racing again. Was the woman showing jealousy? Warning Clarissa that she’d have to work hard to deserve Edwin? Clearly, the actress admired Edwin for more than his investing, but could it have gone so far as to be intimate? How could Clarissa find out without being vulgar?

“He speaks well of you, too,” Clarissa said. “And I have long been an admirer of yours myself. There aren’t many women who can conquer the theater world so thoroughly.”

The actress dipped her head. “How kind of you to say.”

Her servant murmured something in her ear again, and she said to him, “Go tell them I’ll be along shortly.”

As soon as the lad darted out, Clarissa said, “I understand that you and his lordship are very old, very dear friends.”

It came out more coldly than she’d intended, and that seemed to give Madame Vestris pause. She stared at Clarissa. “Are you asking if I am his lordship’s mistress?”

The blunt words brought Clarissa up short. But at least the woman wasn’t beating about the bush. “Well, are you?”

When the actress didn’t answer at once, Edwin snapped, “No, she is not.”

Clarissa glanced at him. “I should like to hear it from the lady, if you please.”

“Have you ever known me to lie?” Edwin asked, his hand tightening on hers.

But Madame Vestris laughed. “Forgive me, my lady, for toying with you. I am not, nor ever have been, his lordship’s paramour.” Humor gleamed in her eyes. “Though not for lack of trying. After all, Lord Blakeborough is that rarest of gentlemen—handsome, generous,
and
intelligent. An intelligent man always deserves an intelligent woman, don’t you think?”

“Indeed he does.” She thrust out her chin. “Fortunately, he has found one.” While she knew it was foolish to tout their faux engagement, she felt oddly possessive of her pretend fiancé. She liked Madame
Vestris . . . but not well enough to see the woman romantically involved with Edwin.

The actress softened her tone. “You have nothing to fear from me, Lady Clarissa. His lordship is indeed an old friend, but it was never anything more. And these days our friendship centers around his investment in my concern, naught else.”

Her servant appeared in the doorway, and she looked up. “Yes, yes, I’m coming.” She took Clarissa’s hand and pressed it warmly. “I hope to see more of you, my dear. You are always welcome in my theater. Now, forgive me, but I must get the players in their places.” Then she swept out in a swish of silk skirts.

Her servant looked at Edwin. “Can you and the lady find your own way back, sir?”

“Yes,” Edwin said. “Go on.”

As the servant rushed off after his mistress, Edwin led Clarissa out into the passageway. They had to push their way past actors and actresses rushing the opposite direction to take their places onstage for the beginning of the final portion of the
Revels
.

Edwin stood aside to let a clown pass, and Clarissa said, “Do you really know where we’re going?”

He smiled indulgently at her. “I always know where I’m going.” Then he took her hand and drew her down another hall.

There were fewer people here, and as she and Edwin traversed it, those remaining players vanished into the other passageway. When she and Edwin passed an open door to an empty room, she stopped him. “We need to talk, and this is as good a place as any.”

Glancing either way down the hall, he nodded and
drew her inside, then pulled the door mostly closed, to give them some privacy. Through the walls, they could hear muted voices and the sounds of music starting up, but here they were alone.

“So,” she began. “Now that Durand has called our bluff, what do we do next?”

Edwin didn’t know how to answer her. Between that damned Frenchman’s baiting of them and Clarissa’s surprising reaction to Lucia, he was at a loss. But Clarissa was looking at him expectantly, and he had to say something.

“We behave as if we’re engaged.”

She huffed out a breath. “I figured that out myself. But for how long? The whole world is sure to hear of it before the night is over, and we’ll be bombarded with questions. I merely need to know what to answer. Have we set a date for the wedding, for example?”

“Of course not.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and added acerbically, “Forgive me, but I haven’t thought through the details of our pretend wedding, only the ones for our secret pretend engagement. I didn’t expect Durand to press the issue. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, I recall your saying that it wouldn’t suit his plans.” She halted to stare at him. “Perhaps you
should have mentioned that to
him.
Because apparently he thinks it suits his plans quite well.”

“Clearly his purpose was to catch us off guard and have us admit that the whole thing was a lie.”

“I realize that. And while I’m glad that we didn’t perform to his expectations, it doesn’t change the fact that we are now publicly engaged.” Her gaze grew shuttered. “Which neither of us wants.”

“No.” It was very nearly true. But part of him couldn’t help imagining Clarissa naked in his bed, with her sensuous lips smiling coyly and her arms reaching up to pull him down beside her. Her breasts would be there for sucking, and her lovely thighs—