The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 (16 page)

“Well, well,” Count Durand said in a hard voice. “If it isn’t the newly engaged couple.”

The cold rage that leapt in Edwin’s face gave her pause. Then he smoothed it from his expression and turned, taking her hand as he moved and pulling her next to him so that they formed a united front.

“What do you want, Durand?” he snapped.

The Frenchman ignored Edwin to address Clarissa. “I was sent by your mother to find you, Lady Clarissa.”

“My mother would never entrust that task to you,” Clarissa said, fighting the gorge rising in her throat.

“You think not? She likes me, you know.”

Before Clarissa could call that the lie she knew it was, Edwin moved ever so slightly in front of her. “Lady Margrave is friendly to everyone. But she’s not mad.”

“We’ll be coming along in a moment, sir,” Clarissa added. “Do go on and tell Mama so. If indeed she sent you to look for me.”

His lips formed a thin line. “I was charged with accompanying you. So I will wait until you’re done with his lordship.”

“The devil you will,” Edwin said. “You’ve already caused enough trouble for tonight by spilling our news prematurely.”

“Am I causing trouble, my lady?” the count asked Clarissa.

His studied drawl didn’t fool her. He looked on edge and thoroughly dangerous. She wouldn’t go off alone with him for all the world.

“You know that you are, sir. But as I said earlier, it hardly matters. You merely succeeded in moving up the announcement we would have made soon anyway.”

The count tightened his jaw. “Knightford hasn’t yet approved of the match.”

“He will. Edwin is perfectly eligible, and is Warren’s closest friend besides. In any case, I’m of age. Warren doesn’t have to approve our engagement. We merely wanted his blessing.”

With a cold glance at Edwin, the Frenchman scowled. “Does that mean you still intend to wait to wed until his return?”

“We haven’t decided,” Edwin said. “Not that it’s any of your concern.”

“I could make it my concern,” Count Durand said.

Her stomach churned.

“I’d like to see you try,” Edwin snarled, fury coming off him in waves.

Like a hound at a bear-baiting, the count was deliberately provoking Edwin. She half expected at any minute for Edwin to rip out Count Durand’s throat.

“Enough,” she said with a forced lightness in her tone, determined to calm both men. “This is silly—the two of you snapping at each other. Mama is waiting. We shall all three return to the box together, before we miss any more of the performance.” She tugged Edwin’s arm. “Come, my dear, let’s go.”

It was like trying to drag the baited bear from the arena, with his hackles raised and teeth bared, before he had the chance to devour his tormentor. For a moment she feared Edwin would do something rash, like fight the count then and there, fomenting gossip throughout society.

Then, to her vast relief, Edwin relaxed his stance. “Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you wish.”

But as the three of them returned to the box through the passageways, she knew she had only forestalled a coming battle. Because she feared that Count Durand meant to draw blood until Edwin flat-out murdered him.

Durand left the box as soon as they returned to it, thank God, or Edwin would have thrown the blasted fellow out of it. Fortunately, they saw no sign of the count when they left the theater.

Edwin hoped the reprieve lasted a while, but he no longer knew what to think of the Frenchman. He’d never seen a man so determined to bedevil a woman. There had to be something else behind it than a mere desire to have Clarissa as his wife.

Granted, any man would want her, but to continue once Edwin and Clarissa started going about in public together? Once they announced their engagement? It was beyond odd.

It was nearly midnight by the time they drew up in front of Warren’s town house. Edwin glanced over at Clarissa, his gut twisting into a knot to see how still and silent she sat. This business with Durand could not go on.

And what if she’s silent because of
you
and your rash actions in that dressing room?

God, he couldn’t bear the thought.

When the door opened, Edwin climbed out to help the two ladies disembark and tried to gauge their moods. Normally he wasn’t good at reading women, but even he could tell that Lady Margrave was worn-out. It had been a long night, after all.

Meanwhile, Clarissa’s furrowed brow and faraway look made Edwin want to put his fist through the flimsy wall of the carriage. The intensity of the feeling alarmed him. He’d never had such urges in his life as he did when he was around her. That couldn’t be good. A man should always be wary of strong emotions. It invariably drove him to behave badly.

Edwin helped Lady Margrave up the steps, all too aware of Clarissa climbing slowly up behind them. He wanted to halt her, drag her into his arms, and comfort her until she returned to her usual buoyant self. It was too late to do more than accompany them inside, yet he burned to finish his conversation with her about a possible marriage between them. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that she was in more danger from Durand than ever.

And his feeling was confirmed when, as soon as they entered, the butler took him aside. “You asked me to keep an eye out for that Frenchman, my lord, and I did. He’s here.”

Anger burned Edwin’s throat. “In the
house
?”

“No, down the street, in his coach.”

He scowled. Durand must have driven to the house another way to await their return. Otherwise, they would have seen him on their way here. “How long has he been there?”

“Half an hour or more.”

Clarissa came over. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Edwin didn’t want her to feel unsafe in her own home. He could take care of Durand without involving her.

She searched his face, then shrugged. “Mama wants to know if you’ll join us for a celebratory glass of wine before you leave.”

He glanced over to where Lady Margrave stood beaming at him. “Another time, perhaps. I have something to attend to.”

“At this hour?” Clarissa said.

“I’m meeting someone later.” It was true, though the “someone” didn’t know it yet.

“Oh.” Coloring deeply, she lifted an eyebrow. “I had no idea you were such a night owl, Edwin.”

Her arch tone and clear assumption that it was a woman scraped his nerves, especially given her stubbornness about marrying him. “Once again, I must remind you that you don’t know everything about me. Perhaps it’s time you look beyond your own nose where I’m concerned.”

“I’m sure Edwin is just going to his club, my dear,” her mother hastened to put in. “Even your father enjoyed gambling into the wee hours of the morning from time to time.”

Damn, now he had Lady Margrave making assumptions about him and his character, too. “I won’t be gambling,” he told Clarissa. “And it’s a meeting with a man. I can see you’re going to be quite the jealous wife.”

“Not a bit,” she said defensively.

“Edwin,” her mother broke in again, “since we missed our dinner with you tonight, you simply must come to dine tomorrow night.”

He tore his gaze from Clarissa to say, “Of course. I’d be delighted.”

“And be sure to bring an automaton for me,” Clarissa said blithely, “since I won our wager.”

That arrested Edwin. “You did not.”

“The agreement was that if you chided me—”

“Which I didn’t do.”

Her gaze narrowed on him. “Were you not just saying something about ‘looking beyond my own nose’ and being a ‘jealous wife’? Sounds an awful lot like chiding to me.”

“That’s absurd,” he said irritably, impatient to be away, “as you know perfectly well.”

“Now you’re chiding me for being absurd.”

“I’m not saying
you’re
absurd. I’m saying your remark is absurd.”

“Same thing.” She tapped his hand coyly with her fan. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to renege on our wager.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not—” he began, then halted as he noted the tension in her face.

In a flash, he realized that this was how Clarissa always handled a difficult situation. She made arch comments. She poked and prodded. She even flirted. And if that was what she had to do to take her mind off Durand, then he could at least give her that.

He gentled his voice. “All right. I concede defeat. I’ll bring you an automaton tomorrow night.”

She eyed him suspiciously, as if she couldn’t quite believe he’d given in. “It had better be a
nice
automa
ton, if you please. Something I can put on the mantel. And one you created, not one of those old—”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” he said, biting back a smile. “You want only the best. As usual.”

“You say that as if it’s a flaw in my character,” she said with a sniff.

“No, indeed.” Taking her hand and turning it over, he lifted it to his lips so he could slowly, carefully, kiss the inside of her wrist. When he felt her pulse quicken and heard her sigh softly, he murmured, “I’ve always preferred the highest of quality myself. In objects . . . and in people.”

The sudden shadow in her eyes was sobering. “I know that only too well.” She slipped her hand from his. “But I suspect that you and I differ in what we consider the highest of quality in people.”

The strange statement gave him pause. “I doubt that. But we can discuss it further tomorrow night.” Seeing her already withdrawing from him made him add, “Along with making plans for our future.”

“Our future,” she repeated dully. “That should prove an interesting discussion.”

She’d said she would think about marrying him, but clearly she was starting to balk again.

Why? Damn it, she was attracted to him—he was sure of it. No woman made such sweet little sounds when being kissed and caressed if she didn’t desire the person doing the kissing and caressing.

But no woman had ever brandished a hairbrush at him for it, either. The memory of that rubbed him as raw as a burr under a saddle. The fact that he could have been so carried away as to make her fear him . . .

It didn’t matter. He would remedy that, somehow. He might not be good at understanding women, but if he put his mind to it, surely he could woo one. And wooing Clarissa began to make more sense in light of the problems with Durand. He would simply have to convince her of it.

He bowed to the ladies. “Good night to you both, and thank you for joining me at the theater. I’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner.”

Then he strode out the front door. Time to deal with that blasted count.

The moment he was outside, he noticed a carriage stopped directly behind his. As he descended the steps, the carriage door opened and Durand stepped out.

“You and I need to talk,” the Frenchman said.

Edwin halted a few steps above the man. “Indeed we do. But not here.” He glanced up at the windows and prayed that Clarissa wasn’t looking out. “Somewhere more private.”

“Yes. If you’ll follow me to the French embassy, we can discuss this like civilized gentlemen.”

“That would require your being a gentleman, which seems unlikely.”

Durand flicked some nonexistent dirt off his sleeve. “It’s either here or there. Or perhaps we should go inside to talk about it with Lady Clarissa.”

Devil take the bastard. “Fine. I’ll meet you at the embassy.”

Despite the hour, it should be relatively safe there, with the usual guards present.

Still, when they pulled up in front of 50 Portland Place, he retrieved the small pistol he kept in his car
riage for protection on late nights such as this. After checking to make sure it was loaded, he tucked it into the pocket of his dress cloak. He wasn’t taking any chances with Durand.

It was nearly 1:00
A.M.
when he and the Frenchman entered the embassy. Though the guards seemed surprised to see the charge d’affaires so late, they merely exchanged a few words with him before leaving Durand and his guest to their own devices.

Durand led Edwin into an office, probably the one he’d been using while the ambassador was in France. Opening a box, Durand offered him a cigar, which Edwin refused. He didn’t want to smoke, eat, or drink with the man. He just wanted him out of Clarissa’s life.

After lighting the cigar, Durand puffed on it a moment. “Have a seat.”

“I’d rather stand. I won’t be long.”

“As you wish.” The count leaned against the desk. “We need to discuss Lady Clarissa.”

“We do, indeed. And I’ll make this simple. She’s my fiancée. I want you to stop plaguing her.”

“I’m not plaguing her. I’m merely reminding her of our suitability for one another.”

Edwin stared him down. “She isn’t taking the hint very well. Nor am I. So I don’t want to see you anywhere near her again.”

“Or you’ll do what?” Durand cocked up one eyebrow. “In my position, I’m immune to any attempt to curb my actions. As I’m sure you know.”

“Nobody is entirely immune, even you.”

The count smirked at him. “You’d be surprised. France is in tumult now. No one there will concern
themselves with the frivolous accusations of a young woman who’s being very respectably courted by a nobleman of my stature.”

“Respectably? That’s what you call dogging her steps, accosting her continually, spying on her home?”

“I should like to see you try to repeat those claims to anyone else. They would say that you are overreacting. That I am a well-respected diplomat, who would have no cause to trouble a lady. That yours are merely the rants of a jealous British earl having trouble securing his place as her suitor.”

Edwin gritted his teeth. “Let them say whatever they want. I have sufficient consequence to make my voice heeded.”

“Not sufficient enough that I can’t take it away at a moment’s notice.” Durand blew out some smoke. “All I need do is expose your father’s secrets.”

That sent unease curling through Edwin’s insides. “My father had no secrets.” None of any importance, anyway.

Yes, Father had been a member of a private opium den, which Edwin had discovered when he’d been forced to track down his father after Mother’s death. But that had been fifteen years and several French ambassadors ago. Durand couldn’t possibly know anything about it. And even if he did, Father had been dead quite some time. It would hardly matter to anyone that the man had occasionally indulged in opium-pipe smoking.