The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 (3 page)

“Why, I can almost imagine him in an ermine cape and one of those tall, furry hats,” Mama said.

Clarissa laughed. “Edwin would only wear such a pretentious thing to a coronation, and then only because he had to.”

His manner of dress was always correct, but terribly sober.

Unlike hers. She examined her gown in the mirror and smiled. Edwin would probably look sternly upon this confection of lace and lavender bows. Secretly it wasn’t her favorite, either—a bit too fussy for her taste—but she’d expected to be dining only with Warren and Mama, and had just thrown on the first thing she’d found in her closet.

Oh, well. No time to change, and besides, she would never change her gown for
him.
Let Edwin give her one of his ruthlessly critical glances; she would not be cowed.

Indeed, it was merely force of habit that had her pinching her cheeks until they glowed nicely pink. It was not because she wanted to look pretty for Edwin. No, indeed.

“You know, my girl,” Mama said, “if you were a bit nicer to that man, you could probably have him wrapped about your finger in a matter of weeks.”

“Oh, I doubt that. Edwin is far too inflexible to be wrapped about anything. More’s the pity.” Clarissa would dearly love to see the woman who could manage
that
.

But it wouldn’t be her. Edwin, of all people, would never accept her as she was, especially once he knew the full extent of her youthful mistakes. And her narrow escape from the obsessive attentions of Count Durand a few months ago had only made her more determined to avoid bending to any man’s demands of what a wife should be.

You can never escape me, my dearest Clarissa.

A shudder swept her as she thrust the count’s final words to the back of her mind. They were just the sort of dramatic nonsense men thought women wanted to hear. But to her knowledge, he hadn’t hunted for her. He hadn’t been loitering in the street outside Warren’s town house once they arrived. No doubt he’d moved on to another pretty woman.

And if he hadn’t?

Then she would be firmer in her refusal this time. Years ago she’d allowed a man to bully her, and it had shattered her life.

Never again.

Pasting a brilliant smile to her lips, she whirled to face her mother. “Shall we go down?”

“Not yet, my angel. The servant said the gentlemen are already here, so we should keep them waiting. You must never let a man be too sure of you.”

“It’s
Edwin
, Mama,” she said tightly. “He’s sure of everything and everyone, no matter what I do.” With her usual coaxing smile, she offered her arm to her mother. Mama had broken her hip in her early forties and it hadn’t knitted properly, so navigating stairs was difficult for her. “Come now, I know you’re dying for a glass of wine. I certainly am.”

“Oh, all right.” Leaning on Clarissa’s arm, Mama let herself be led to the door. “But you must promise to give him a compliment first thing. Men like that.”

“Right,” Clarissa said noncommittally.

“And don’t contradict him all the time. Men despise fractious women.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And do
not
spout your witticisms incessantly. It’s very mannish. Not to mention . . .”

As they made their slow way down the stairs, Clarissa let her mother drone on, only half listening to the usual recitation of little tricks designed to hook a man and reel him in. Those might have enabled her Cit of a mother to snag an earl, but they smacked of deception to Clarissa.

If a man couldn’t like her as she was, what was the point? Clarissa could barely hide her true opinions from Mama. How was she to do it with a husband?

Not that she ever intended to
have
a husband. Granted, she wouldn’t mind having children, but that required taking a man into her bed—and the very thought made her hands grow clammy and her throat close up.

No. Marriage was not for her.

“. . . and do be sure to save the biggest slice of cake for Edwin,” Mama said as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Nonsense. I’m not saving
anything
for Edwin.”

“That’s only fair,” drawled Edwin from somewhere in the shadows to the right of the staircase. “I’m not saving anything for you, either.”

Striving to hide her surprise, she halted as he came into the light.

“Edwin!” Mama cried. “My dear boy!” She held out her hand.

Dutifully, he came forward to take it. “You’re looking well, Lady Margrave.” He bent to brush a kiss to Mama’s cheek.

No kiss for Clarissa, of course. He was too much the gentleman for that.

“You’re looking rather fine yourself,” Mama chirped as she drew back to survey him.

And Lord, but he was, in his tailcoat of dark-blue wool and his waistcoat and trousers of plain white poplin. Even his cravat was simply tied, which only accentuated the masculine lines of his jaw and sharp planes of his features, so starkly handsome.

How had he managed to grow even more attractive in a mere three months? And why on earth was she gawking at him? This was
Edwin
, for pity’s sake. It would swell his head even more if he knew what she was thinking.

Instead, she teased him. “Don’t tell me—you were so impatient for us to come down that you’ve been pacing the foyer in anticipation.”

The idea was ludicrous, of course.
Impatient
wasn’t
even in Edwin’s vocabulary. If ever a man believed that slow and steady won the race, it was he.

And he clearly recognized the irony, for he flashed her one of his rare smiles. “Actually, I was fetching this from the library. Warren told me he was done with it.” His eyes gleamed in the lamplight as he held out a book. “Of course, if you wish to read it yourself . . .”

“Doubtful,” she said. “Any book
you
loaned him has to be deadly dull.”

“You mean, because it lacks gallant highwaymen rescuing virtuous ladies.”

“Or virtuous ladies rescuing gallant highwaymen. Either would be preferable to one of your dry tomes on . . . what? Chess? Engineering? Philosophy of the most boring sort?”

“Clarissa,” Mama chided.

But Edwin merely laughed, as she’d hoped he would. She took great pride in the fact that she could sometimes make him laugh. No other woman seemed able to. No other woman dared try.

“Mechanical engineering,” he said. “However did you guess?”

“Because I know you all too well, sir.”

He sobered, his gaze turning oddly intense even for him. “Do you? I’m not so sure.”

The words hung in the air a moment in frozen silence before that was shattered by her cousin’s approach.

“I found another book you might enjoy, old boy,” Warren said as he bent to kiss first his aunt, then Clarissa. “It’s about automatons.”

She rolled her eyes as Warren handed it to Edwin. Of course, keen interest leapt in Edwin’s face the
moment he scanned the cover. The earl did love his automatons, to the point where he even made his own, though Clarissa had never been deemed worthy enough to actually see one.

“Looks intriguing, thanks. I’ll get it back to you as soon as I’m done.”

“No hurry.” Warren shot her a veiled glance. “As you well know, I won’t need it anytime soon.”

Whatever was that about?

Before she could ponder it, Warren offered Mama his arm. “Come, Aunt, let’s get you off your feet while we have our wine before dinner. Don’t want to tax your hip overmuch.”

“Thank you, my lad,” she cooed, and let him lead her to the breakfast room. “That is ever so thoughtful of you! But then, you always were a dear. Why, I remember when . . .”

As Mama prattled on, Edwin was left to come behind with Clarissa. “So,” he murmured, “exactly what were you refusing to save for me?”

It took her a moment to remember that he’d overheard her earlier. “The biggest slice of cake.”

“I don’t like cake.”

“I know. That’s why I’m not wasting it on you. You won’t appreciate it, and you’d probably eat it just to be polite.”

He slanted a serious glance at her. “Perhaps I’d give it to you, instead.”

“I doubt that, but we’ll never know, shall we?” she said lightly. “I’m saving it for myself, regardless.”

“So I heard.”

“Because you were eavesdropping.” Mischief seized her. “How rude of you.”

As they passed into the breakfast room, he shrugged. “If you don’t want people hearing your pronouncements, you shouldn’t talk at the volume of a dockworker.”

Mama paused while settling onto the settee. “A dockworker! For shame, Edwin—what a thing to say to a lady! Have you no pretty compliments to offer?”

When he stood blatantly unrepentant, Clarissa said, “If Edwin knew how to compliment ladies, Mama, he would be too popular in society to settle for having dinner with the mere likes of
us.
”

“There’s no settling involved, I assure you,” he said irritably.

She was congratulating herself on getting beneath his cool reserve again when Warren stepped in. “Play nice now, cousin. We need him.”

“For what?” Clarissa asked.

Instead of answering, Warren gestured to the settee. “You’d better sit down. I’ve got something to tell you and your mother.”

A short while later, Edwin watched as Clarissa demanded answers of her cousin. “And this letter from Niall requesting your help was just sitting here waiting for you? How long?”

“Only a few days,” Warren said.

“They should have sent it on!”

“We would have missed it, then. We were already on our way here.”

“And why did he send it to you, not us?”

“Because he wanted to keep you and your mother out of it if he could.”

Lady Margrave gave a bone-chilling cry. “Heaven help us all! My poor boy is in danger—I just know it! Or he’s gambled away all his funds!”

“I’m sure it’s nothing like that,” Warren said through gritted teeth.

“And Niall would never be so foolish as to lose everything at the tables,” Clarissa said grimly.

“He could have taken up with a bad crowd over in Portugal!” Lady Margrave protested. “I mean, if he
was daft enough to get into a duel over some soiled dove all those years ago—”

“Mama!” Clarissa said, with a furtive glance at Edwin. “That’s enough.”

“It’s not as if the whole world doesn’t know how your brother ended up in exile,” Edwin said. “Blasted young bucks and their dueling. It’s been the bane of half the families in England.”

A flush of embarrassment stained Clarissa’s cheeks. At least, he assumed it was embarrassment. What else could it be?

Stiffening, she turned to Warren. “When are we leaving?”

“
We
are not leaving,” Warren said with a scowl. “You and your mother are staying here while I go to Portugal.”

“Mama can stay, but why can’t
I
go with you? I can help.”

Warren eyed her askance. “Do what? I don’t even know what I’ll be facing. Niall’s message was cryptic, and his circumstances unclear. All I know is that he needs me to help him out of a spot. I’m not dragging you with me when I’m unsure what to expect.”

“You cannot go, my dear,” Lady Margrave cried. “You might be captured by pirates! They roam those seas, you know.”

“Now, Mama, the likelihood of my being cap—”

“Oh, dear, dear, no. You mustn’t go. Only think what might happen to you!” Clutching her chest, Lady Margrave fumbled in a jeweled box on a table next to the settee. “I need my salts. Where are my salts?”

Without a word, Clarissa rang for a servant, then walked over and pulled a vial out of the box. “There,
there, Mama.” With astonishing patience, she knelt to wave the vial under her mother’s nose, then urged her to lie down on the settee. “Just rest a moment while I have a word with Warren, all right?”

The lady’s maid hurried in at that moment, and Clarissa said, “Mama is feeling faint. Please sit with her. His lordship and I will be right back.”

She headed for the door that adjoined the library, and Warren followed. Edwin hesitated, but it seemed only right that he join them, given that he was supposed to be part of Warren’s plan.

And she barely seemed to note Edwin’s presence, too intent on berating Warren. “This is madness! I can’t believe you mean to go without me! If Niall is in trouble—”

“There’s naught you can do about it,” Warren snapped. “You’re staying here, and that’s final.”

Muttering curses, she roamed the library like a caged lioness. Tendrils of her hair were escaping their pins, her cheeks were flushed, and her strides were so quick, they gave him glimpses of ankle. God, but she was glorious in a temper.

Edwin had never seen her angry. Cross, yes. Sarcastic, oh yes.

But in a fury? Never. And now that he was witnessing it, he found it fascinating. Considering that he generally hated dealing with emotional women, that surprised him.

She rounded on Warren. “So you’re going to leave us here to worry ourselves sick over you and Niall for the next month or so.”

Edwin couldn’t suppress his snort. Now she rounded on
him
. Damn.

“Do you have something to say, Lord Blakeborough?”

The formality of her words should have given him pause. It didn’t. “Warren and Niall are grown men. They can take care of themselves, and will probably do it better without you tagging along.”

Planting her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Stay out of this. It does not concern you.”

“Actually, it does,” Warren broke in. “While I’m away, Edwin is going to accompany you and your mother to whatever social engagements you wish to attend.”

The emotions that played over her face were intriguing. Surprise, then confusion . . . then more of that amazing anger that brought such fetching color into her cheeks. Edwin couldn’t stop staring. Was the flush all-encompassing? Did it extend beneath her clothing?

God, he must stop thinking about what was beneath her clothing.

“Whyever would Edwin need to do that?” she bit out.

“To protect you from Durand,” Edwin said bluntly.

For a second, she paled. Or perhaps he’d imagined it, for almost instantly she spat, “That is beyond ridiculous.”

Warren’s dark eyes glittered. “Is it?” He marched up to her. “Ever since you refused the man’s proposal, he’s dogged you at every turn. You were frightened enough of him after his last appearance to beg me to bring you and your mother to Hatton Hall for the rest of the winter.”