The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 (26 page)

Edwin walked up to kiss his sister on the cheek. “As we are to see you. We didn’t expect you in the country until next week at the very earliest.”

“I got some news and made Jeremy come back sooner.” Placing her hand on her visibly protruding belly, she said, “I suppose you can tell what my news is.”

Only Clarissa noticed the quick flash of pain on Edwin’s face before he forced a smile for his sister’s benefit. “Congratulations. We’re very happy for you.” He turned to pull Clarissa forward to stand next to him. “Aren’t we, my dear?”

His words were so obviously insincere that it cut her to the heart. She’d wounded him deeply. She hadn’t even realized until now how much
he’d
been looking forward to having children.

Lord, she was making a complete mess of this marriage.

“Of course we’re happy for you,” Clarissa said, fighting back tears.

Yvette planted her hands on her hips. “I would
have been happy for you two, if I’d had any inkling you were getting married. How could you not tell me?” She arched an eyebrow at Clarissa. “Especially you. I never expect Edwin to tell me things, but
you
should have said something.”

“It happened very quickly,” Clarissa said. “I don’t know if you remember what occurred when I took that trip to Bath last year, but—”

“We’ll explain it all when we’ve got your husband with us, too,” Edwin cut in. “No point in relating the whole tale twice. Shall we go?”

With a nod, Yvette started off, chattering about her and Jeremy’s trip to America.

It was all Clarissa could do to make the usual responses. She was painfully aware of Edwin walking stiffly at her side, not touching her, not looking at her.

She hadn’t intended to make him feel so awful. She had to fix this, to let him know it really had nothing to do with him. But that meant telling him the truth as soon as she could get him alone.

Did she dare? Or would it drive them farther apart? Given what he’d said about his mother, he might actually understand.

His mother—heavens. Clarissa had never guessed at any such tragedy in Lady Blakeborough’s past. She had to know more. Assuming he would tell her.

It was rather a shock that he’d even mentioned it to Clarissa. It drove a stake of guilt through her heart to think that he’d been so devastated by her reaction to him that he had let slip something so highly personal about his family. It wasn’t like him at all.

They emerged from the trees to see Jeremy striding toward them. “So there you are! I suppose Yvette has told you our news?”

“Of course,” Clarissa said brightly. “You know your wife—she’s deplorable at keeping secrets.”

“Unlike her brother, who never says a thing. I should have known he was cooking up a plan to win you.” Jeremy walked up to clap Edwin on the shoulder. “Not that I’m surprised, Blakeborough. The way you spoke of her a few months ago—”

“What?” Clarissa broke in. “How did he speak of me?”

Jeremy laughed. “As if you bedeviled him. And men are only ever bedeviled by women they fancy.”

“I beg your pardon,” Yvette retorted. “
I
bedevil him, and he certainly doesn’t fancy me.”

“You do not bedevil me,” Edwin said lightly, obviously trying to get into the spirit of their banter. “You worry me. It’s not the same.”

“Hmph,” Yvette said. “Does your wife not worry you, too?”

He slid a somber glance at Clarissa. “My wife worries me exceedingly. In truth, I don’t know how I shall survive marriage to her.”

“Nor do I.” Clarissa tried to sound teasing, though inside she bled. “But you’re stuck with me now, so you’ll have to make the best of it.”

“Well,” Yvette said, taking Clarissa by the arm. “I want to hear all about it. When did he offer marriage? How did he do it?”

“God help us,” Jeremy muttered. “Come, brother, I need something stiff to drink while those two reconstruct every moment of your courtship.”

As the four of them headed for the house, with the two men going ahead of them toward the study, a sinking feeling of despair overtook Clarissa. It was going to be very hard to make things right with her husband while his family was at Stoke Towers.

She could only hope the Keanes wouldn’t stay more than a day or two. Because the longer this rift stretched between her and Edwin, the harder it would be to mend it.

Edwin was glad of Keane’s suggestion of having a drink; that way he could fill his brother-in-law in on
all
the details of the Durand situation, including the parts he didn’t want his wife to hear.

But as they headed off to Edwin’s study, where they could enjoy brandy and cigars in peace, it wasn’t Durand that occupied Edwin’s thoughts. It was Clarissa.

The wall between them seemed to grow more impassable by the day. She pushed him away as often as she let him close.

Had he made a huge mistake in marrying her? God, he hoped not. Because with every day that passed, he liked having her about him more and more as a companion.

But he couldn’t bear the idea of a lifetime with a woman who couldn’t endure his touch. Who had to buck herself up just to share his bed.

Never had he felt so alone.

He and Keane entered the study. As they settled
down to their cigars and brandy, he laid out the facts of the situation with Durand. The hardest part was telling Keane about the spying, but it wouldn’t be fair to let his sister and brother-in-law be taken by surprise if Durand went through with his threats and told the world about Father’s treasonous activities.

When he finished his explanations, Keane looked fit to be tied. “Blackmailed by a scoundrel like that? How dare he?”

“Durand has no shame. Or principles. Especially where gaining Clarissa is concerned.”

“Damn.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Edwin drew in a long breath. “You’ll have to decide if we should tell Yvette. I confess I have no idea what to do in that regard.”

“It would devastate her. I mean, she’s always felt unwanted by your father, but this . . .”

“It does explain why he was never around.” It didn’t
entirely
explain it, but Edwin wasn’t about to go into the details of his mother’s assault and the aftermath of it. He already regretted telling Clarissa so much. And not nearly enough.

“Perhaps knowing why your father was absent would make her feel better about it,” Keane said. “Though I doubt it. She wasn’t just hurt by that, but by the things he said, the way he treated your mother.”

“Which is why I’m trusting you to tell Yvette as much or as little as you deem wise. You know her better than I.”

“Only because you keep things from her.” Keane searched his face. “You would keep this from her,
too, wouldn’t you, if you had the choice? Just to protect her from being hurt.”

“Yes. It’s my only way to make up for Father’s and Samuel’s lapses.”

“The trouble is, she interprets your discretion as a lack of faith in her ability to weather trials and tribulations. You think you’re protecting her, but you’re really building a wall between you and her.”

As he always did when Keane started talking about how he should treat his sister, Edwin withdrew into formality. “As I said, you can be the judge of whether to tell her or not. Since you seem to know better than I on the subject.”

Apparently realizing how testy Edwin was getting, Keane said, “I didn’t mean—”

“If Durand never reveals it, then she need never know that her father was a traitor. But I can’t be sure he won’t. That’s why I’m telling
you
. So you won’t find yourself suddenly immersed in a scandal out of the blue.”

Keane nodded somberly. “Don’t worry about me and Yvette. I don’t give a damn about scandal, and she only worries about it for your sake. But if the two of you are in it together, she’ll stand by you and thumb her nose at the world.” He leaned back in his chair. “And you know me. I thumb my nose at the world as a matter of principle.”

“You’re an artist and an American. People expect that of you.” Edwin stared out the window. “They don’t expect it of me.”

“And Clarissa? How does she feel about all this?”

He gritted his teeth. “I haven’t told her.”

“What?”

“I told her he’s holding something over our heads, but I haven’t said what. I had to reveal that much just to get her to marry me.”

“I see.” Keane sipped some brandy. “In other words, Durand’s threats provided you with an excellent excuse for doing what you wanted in the first place.”

Edwin’s gaze shot to Keane. “What the devil does that mean? I did it for
her
benefit, not my own. I wasn’t going to leave her to that arse’s machinations.”

“Right. It had nothing to do with your desiring her, I’m sure.”

He glared at his friend. “Not everyone is as randy as you.”

“You don’t fool me.” The man chuckled. “Even an idiot could tell how you feel about Clarissa. In any case, it’s a good thing to desire one’s wife, isn’t it?”

“You have no idea,” Edwin muttered. He could never reveal the mortifying truth to Keane—that his desire for his wife was something
she
didn’t want. Not entirely. That he didn’t even know why she rebuffed him.

He wanted to believe that it had nothing to do with him, but he couldn’t. Because surely if someone else had hurt her, if all this was because of another man, she would tell him. And she had behaved very much like a virgin when he’d pleasured her with his mouth. It had startled her.

No, the fact that she wouldn’t say why, the fact that she pulled back every time he got close to entering her, could only mean it was due to her dislike of
him.

Just give me a moment, and I’ll try . . . we can try—

God, the very idea of her having to drum up enthusiasm to share his bed sent chills down his spine.

He thrust that lowering thought from his mind. “In any case,” he said coolly, “it’s done now. Since our marriage, Durand has only made threats, but that doesn’t mean he won’t act on them down the road.”

Thankfully Keane let him return to the subject of the count. “And you don’t know what Durand’s reasons for pursuing her are. Other than some odd obsession with her.”

“No. As far as I know, he doesn’t need money. Or so Fulkham and Rathmoor said.”

Keane blinked. “You told them about the bastard?”

“Not exactly. I didn’t want Clarissa’s reputation tarnished, so I said I was asking on behalf of someone else in the club.”

With a flick of ash from his cigar, Keane said, “I don’t suppose you’d want to tell
them
about your father’s spying.”

“Right,” Edwin said snidely. “I’ll just run right out and tell Rathmoor, the man who stole my first fiancée, that my father sold his country to the French. Or better yet, I’ll tell Fulkham, who practically runs the War Office.” He shook his head. “Durand implied that he might implicate me in Father’s activities. Imagine if
that
happened.”

“He has no proof.”

“He has solid proof of Father’s activities. It wouldn’t take much to connect those to me. Besides, the press doesn’t need proof. All they need is a juicy story to foment scandal.” Edwin downed some
brandy. “No, it seems wiser to stay in the country for a while and hope that our marriage discourages Durand enough for him to turn his attentions elsewhere. It’s not as if anyone could do anything to stop him, given his position and the delicacy of relations with the French right now.”

“I see your point.” Keane drew on his cigar. “But I do think you should tell Clarissa about it, at the very least.”

“I can’t.” Not yet.

“Why not?”

“I have my reasons.” He held her by the thinnest thread, if he held her at all. At least right now, she still saw him as her savior from Durand. But if she realized how awful the scandal might be if news of Father’s treason got out, she would see him as the man who married her knowing he might be ruining her place in society. He wasn’t ready for the recriminations that would follow.

“So, what if Durand does go to the press? What then?”

“Obviously, I’ll have no choice. She and I will weather the scandal as best we can.” And he would try to make it up to her somehow. If he could. “We’ll go abroad, wait until the furor dies.”

“You could always shoot the man,” Keane said genially.

“Believe me, I’ve considered it, old boy.” He sighed. “But since Clarissa has already lost her brother to exile because of a senseless duel, I hardly think she’d appreciate losing a husband to the gallows.”

“True. I suppose we’ll just have to hope Durand comes to his senses. Because if you and Clarissa leave
England for any reason, Yvette will get some fool notion about us taking over the care of Stoke Towers, the way Warren has with Margrave Manor—and I can barely manage the country house I just bought.”

“I shudder to think what you would do if you ran this place,” Edwin said. “You’d be having the dairymaids pose as gin-soaked washerwomen so you could paint them.”

Keane paused with his cigar midair. “What a good idea. Or I could pose the footmen with them—add a bit of rowdy soldier flirtation to the scene. Of course, I’d have to acquire a number of military costumes—”

“Stay away from my servants, damn you,” Edwin growled.

His brother-in-law burst into laughter. “You should see your face. That’s what I ought to paint—you in high dudgeon. But trust me, I have no interest in having your servants model for me. I have enough trouble keeping up with the projects I’m engaged in already.” Setting his brandy down, Keane turned serious. “So make sure you don’t run afoul of Durand, do you hear?”

“I’ll do my best. But the man is unpredictable.” Edwin shook his head. “And I never know how to deal with unpredictable people.”

Like his wife. He only hoped that in time
she
at least would become easier to read. Otherwise, he was in for a long, cold marriage.

As Clarissa finished her tale about Durand, Yvette let out a most unladylike oath. “The count did
what
? That
devil
! How could he? I mean, I know he was mad for you, but I didn’t realize he was . . . well . . .
mad.
”

“I know. It’s very strange. I cannot believe he keeps dogging me like this. Neither Edwin nor I can figure it out.”