The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 (21 page)

“And it wasn’t as if Edwin could stay here all the time. It wouldn’t be respectable.”

His wife was handling the woman with surprising aplomb. Come to think of it, she always had. Perhaps she wouldn’t be so unsuitable a wife after all. Assuming he could get her to share his bed eventually.

God, he must stop thinking about that.

“But why couldn’t
I
attend the wedding, too? And perhaps a few of our friends? We could have kept it small.” Her mother began to tick names off. “Just Lady Anne and the Lamonts and the Sweeney sisters, since they’re my closest friends, and of course—”

“Mama! That’s precisely why we didn’t include you. You would have started making a big to-do, Count Durand would have got wind of our plan, and he would have spread scandal in hopes of preventing the wedding. It had to remain secret until it was
over.” She frowned at her mother. “Admit it, you do not know how to keep things secret.”

“That’s not true,” Lady Margrave said with a sniff.

“Who told Cook that I disliked her veal sausages?”

The dowager countess lifted her chin. “That was only so she would make better ones.”

“And who told Warren last year that Yvette thought his mustache made him look villainous?”

“Well, it did. She was right.”

“Yes, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. She wanted to broach it gently, and you just blurted it out.”

“He . . . he caught me off guard. Asked me what I thought of it.”

“So you offered
Yvette’s
opinion instead of yours. That way he would be annoyed with her and not you.”

Her mother began to wave her hands. “This is all beside the point. You got married in some havey-cavey manner, and now you mean to blame me for it. But not a soul saw it happen—”

“I told you,” Edwin put in, “we had witnesses.”

The dowager countess glared at him. “No one who
matters
saw it happen.”

“I don’t really give a damn,” he muttered, which earned him a frown from both women.

Not to mention that Lady Margrave simply continued to complain. “And everyone will assume that we couldn’t afford a proper wedding with a proper gown and a proper breakfast—”

“So have a proper breakfast,” Edwin said irritably. “Some big affair to celebrate the ceremony. I’ll pay for it.” He owed it to the woman, since he’d
deprived her of the one experience every lady anticipated—planning her daughter’s nuptials.

That stopped the dowager countess right in her tracks. She eyed him uncertainly. “We can’t have a wedding breakfast days after the ceremony—it simply isn’t done. Besides, it would take at least two weeks to plan a proper one.”

“Fine. Then don’t have one. It’s your choice.”

“Yes, you’re quite right, Edwin,” Lady Margrave said. “It shouldn’t be a breakfast. It should be a grand fete. A real celebration.”

“Mama!” Clarissa said, with a furtive glance at him. “That’s
not
what he was saying. And I don’t think you should spend Edwin’s money on some grand fete.”

Her concern for his finances amused him. “Technically, it’s your money, minx, since your fortune just increased my coffers by a substantial amount. Even if it hadn’t, I can afford to do whatever your mother pleases.”

Lady Margrave gazed at him as if he’d just opened the doors to Versailles. “Could we have it at Vauxhall, do you think? I know they’re not open at present, but they would probably hire it out to
you.
And then we can hire one of those balloonists to come.”

Good God. “If you wish.”

“Can we hire the orchestra to play for our guests?”

He stifled a sigh. “Certainly.”

“And bring in our own chefs so we have food that’s decent, instead of those ghastly chickens?”

“Of course,” he said readily. “The fare at Vauxhall is wretched.”

“Edwin!” Clarissa exclaimed.

“What?”

“You don’t even
like
Vauxhall!” his wife said.

“It would be a private affair,” he countered. “It’s not the same. Besides, this fete isn’t for me or even you. It’s for your mother. And she has put up with a great deal from us, so it’s the least I . . .
we
. . . can do.”

“It certainly is,” the dowager countess said. “Now, come, Clarissa. We should do a bit of planning.”

Clarissa raised her eyes heavenward. “I have to pack, Mama. Edwin and I are leaving for Stoke Towers tonight.”

“What? Already? You can’t! You have to help me plan the fete!” Lady Margrave rounded on him. “You can’t be taking her off so soon, Edwin. You must stay in London until our fete.”

Edwin stared her down. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, madam. We think it best to retire to the country while Durand is still causing trouble. Besides, Clarissa and I mean to have a honeymoon trip, even if it’s only to Hertfordshire.”

The woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Of course.” Color stained her cheeks. “I hadn’t thought . . . I assumed . . . Well, you must have a honeymoon trip, yes.”

“I’m glad you understand,” he said in a hard voice.

“Will you be all right here alone in town, Mama?” Clarissa asked anxiously. “Because you can always come and stay at home nearby.”

“Don’t be silly. I shall be fine. I have a fete to plan! It will be difficult without you here to help, of course, but while you pack you can tell me what you’d like, and I’ll make some notes. Then I’ll consult with the Sweeney sisters so we can do as much
of the preparation as possible before I come out to Hertfordshire to go over the plans.” She cast Edwin an apologetic look. “I will only come the once and steal her for an hour or so.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “And as Clarissa said, if you wish to return to Hertfordshire today—”

“No, indeed.” She smiled knowingly at him. “The two of you need time to yourselves.” Taking her daughter’s arm, she tugged her toward the door. “Indeed, before you leave, Clarissa, there are things I should tell you privately.”

Edwin stifled an oath. Just what he needed—Lady Margrave putting her daughter even more on her guard concerning their wedding night. Which he would not get to have, anyway.

But it couldn’t be helped. “I’ll . . . er . . . wait here.”

By 5:00
P.M
., he was starting on his second glass of brandy when a servant knocked at the door. “My lord? That French count is here to call on Lady Clarissa.”

Durand, damn him. “I’ll take care of it.”

Edwin marched out and down the stairs to find Durand pacing the foyer. “I’ll make this short and sweet, Durand,” he said as he descended. “Get out, now.”

Durand visibly started. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Waiting for my wife to pack up. Hadn’t you heard? Lady Clarissa and I were married this morning. And now we’re headed off on our honeymoon.”

The count’s gaze sharpened on him. “I read the wedding announcement in the paper, but I figured it had to be a ruse. It’s why I’m here.”

“Well, you figured wrong. So you can go.”

“I shan’t take
your
word for it.” Durand glanced up the stairs. “I want to speak to her ladyship myself.”

“Not bloody likely. But if you must see proof, here’s the special license.” He waved it in front of the man. “And if this isn’t good enough for you, then check the parish register at St. George’s in Hanover Square, where we were married this morning.”

The count’s face darkened. “You couldn’t be that foolish.”

“I don’t consider it foolish to marry a woman I’ve been courting.”

“It is, when you know what I will do to you,” Durand hissed.

“Go ahead.” Edwin fought to sound nonchalant. “Then you’ll force us to decamp to the Continent to avoid the scandal, and you’ll never see her again. Meanwhile, your reputation as a diplomat will be tarnished, and all you’ll have accomplished is the ruin of several lives, including your own.” He thrust his face into Durand’s. “But I’m game if you are. Do your worst.”

Durand’s eyes could have sliced slate, they were that hard. But he knew when he’d been backed into a corner. “You will come to regret this.”

“I doubt that.”

“I can cause a great deal of trouble for you. All I need do is have a few words with your wife about your father and the scandal she’ll have to endure.”

“Come near my wife again,” Edwin growled, “and I will personally flay the flesh from your bones. Do you understand me?” He turned to the butler standing ready. “Please accompany the count to his carriage.”

The servant stepped forward to lay his hand on
the man, but Durand shrugged it off. “No need—I’m leaving. But this isn’t over.”

As Durand clapped his hat upon his head and strode out the front door, Edwin said, “We’ll see about that.”

Clarissa backed away from the stairs, shaking. Edwin had certainly not been lying about Durand. The man was clearly not right in his head. And Edwin hadn’t exactly been his usual self, either.

Come near my wife again, and I will personally flay the flesh from your bones.

She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified by Edwin’s words. She’d never guessed he could be that passionate about anything. He always seemed so calm and collected.

Well, except for that day in the library when he’d faced down Durand the first time. And at the theater, when his kisses had overwhelmed her.

She pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. Who was Edwin? Did she even know? Was he only capable of such anger and force against the likes of Durand? Or might he unleash his temper on her, too, if she denied him her bed?

Hearing him stalk up the stairs, she hurried back into her bedchamber.

“Did you tell Edwin that you’re ready for the footman to come get the trunks?” Mama asked.

Clarissa started. “No . . . I—I remembered one more thing you and I should discuss.”

Coloring deeply, Mama gestured at the bed. “About the . . . well . . . you-know-what?”

“No, Mama, you covered that quite adequately,” she said, fighting to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

It had taken all Clarissa’s strength not to laugh bitterly at Mama’s delicate explanation of what she should expect in the marital bed.

He will touch you all over your body, and you must let him because he’s your husband. Try not to cry. Men hate that, and it quite withers them.

Clarissa would have to keep that in mind if she got desperate, though her sobs hadn’t had any effect on the Vile Seducer. Somehow she suspected that it depended on the man, as to how he would react to tears in the bedchamber.

You will grow used to what he does.
At that point, her mother had blushed furiously.
You will even grow to like it eventually. Though it will take a while to get past the embarrassment of it.

Well, Clarissa could certainly attest to the truth of
that.
But it was the pain she most remembered, not the embarrassment. The pain and the grunting and the rough handling of her body.

Her stomach began churning. Surely Edwin would be different. Please, God, let him be different.

“Are you nearly ready?” came his deep voice from the doorway.

She jumped, then forced a smile for her new husband’s benefit. “Yes. Quite ready. I was about to go tell you.”

“Good. I’d like to be on our way before sunset, if we can manage it.” He glanced at his pocket watch. “That gives you about an hour to—”

“Don’t worry, Edwin,” she quipped. “I know how you are about schedules. I shall attempt to be ready according to yours.”

He winced. “Take your time.”

“If I didn’t know how it pained you to say such a thing, I might believe you,” she said gaily.

Taking pity on him, she did her best to hurry. So the next half hour was a flurry of loading trunks and saying farewells. By the time they set off for Hertfordshire, it was still half an hour before dark. The two of them sat opposite each other, and now that they were alone together, she was nervous.

Especially since Edwin looked tired and distracted, undoubtedly unsettled by the count’s visit. Should she mention it? Would Edwin deny it if she did?

She was afraid to press him just now. Her marriage didn’t seem quite real. It still felt as if she and Edwin were just headed off to another social event.

Except that the event they were actually heading to was private, and he could do as he wished with her, marriage settlement or no. The part of the document about their consummation was hardly something that could be enforced, after all. Really just a request.

“I’ve something to tell you.” Edwin looked out the window at the bustling streets. “You’re probably wondering why I didn’t go visit Durand before we left town, to inform him of our marriage.”

She didn’t want to lie, so she said nothing as she removed her hat, which was too large for comfort even in the spacious confines of Edwin’s carriage.

“As it turns out,” he went on, “there was no need. While you were packing, he came by to talk to you.
He couldn’t believe we had wed. I made it clear that we had. And then I kicked him out of Warren’s town house.”

“I see.” Thank heaven Edwin had told her about the incident. At least he wasn’t trying to shield her from everything. This marriage might eventually prove manageable after all.

Should she continue to pretend not to have known about the count’s visit? No, there were secrets enough between them already. “Actually, I wasn’t sure if I should mention it, but I did overhear the end of your . . . discussion.”

His gaze shot to her. “So you know that he made some idle threats.”

“They didn’t sound so idle to me.”

The muscles of his jaw tautened. “I can handle Durand.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” She concentrated on folding her veil about her hat. “It disturbs me that you are risking so much because of me.”

“
That
is what you gleaned from my discussion with Durand?”

“Of course. He’s clearly determined to make things difficult for you, and considering that all you did was step in to defend me, it hardly seems fair.”

He shook his head ruefully. “You’re remarkable, Clarissa.”

That startled her. “Are you being sarcastic?”

“Certainly not. Here you are, being dogged by that arse Durand, yet you worry over what he’ll do to
me
, a grown man who can take care of himself. By now most women would be weeping and wringing their hands, or worse yet, falling for his hand
some appearance without seeing the unsettled mind behind it.”