The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 (6 page)

“No, but you are being manipulated by the rest of your family. Imagine my shock when I learned that you were right here in England, being kept from me by your cousin.” He stepped nearer still. “Knightford knew full well that I couldn’t leave London with the ambassador away.”

“Yes. He did.” She stared him down, determined not to let him gain the upper hand. “So did I. He was only doing as I asked.”

“I don’t believe you.” As she stifled a curse, he added, “I know that deep down, you sense our connection. You may claim otherwise, but you recognize that we’re meant to be together.”

Oh, Lord, what now? He truly believed what he was saying. She walked over to part the curtains, as if to look out at the night street. Hopefully he wouldn’t be aware that the window was actually a set of French doors opening onto a balcony that connected with the card room next door.

“Admit it,” he said from behind her, far closer than she liked. “You and I belong together.”

“If I thought so, I would have accepted your proposal of marriage.” Stealthily, she reached for the handle.

“You refused my proposal because your cousin commanded it.”

She tried the handle. It was locked.

Panic built in her chest. She was trapped. And the last time she’d been trapped alone with a man . . .

No, she wouldn’t give in to hysterics. She mustn’t! Count Durand mustn’t see her quake before him. Fear was the enemy.

Forcing a smile, she faced him, alarmed to find him only a few feet away. “I refused your proposal because I’m in love with someone else.” The minute she blurted out the lie, she regretted it. Count Durand might be the sort of fellow for whom such a declaration would make matters worse.

But he merely laughed. “That’s absurd. My spies have seen no evidence of that.”

Anger spiraled inside her, and she clung desperately to it, hoping to banish her fear. “Spies? You’ve been
spying
on me?”

“I told you. I shall never let you escape me.”

Her blood faltered.
Be strong
, she told herself.
You can bluff your way through this.

She donned her haughtiest manner. “If you’re trying to convince me of your love, that isn’t the way to go about it.” With a sniff, she rushed past him.

But she wasn’t quick enough. Catching her by the arm, he jerked her back around and pushed her against the wall.

“Then I shall have to convince you some other way,” he growled, before taking her mouth with his.

A tiny part of her screamed,
Fight!
But the rest of her froze. Dark memories from years ago swamped her. A night in an orangery. Soft kisses twisting into hard ones. A man’s rough hands groping, ripping . . .

Her ears began to ring. Her vision was tunneling
now, and her head spinning . . . Oh, Lord, no, no, no. She couldn’t faint. Not now. Not with him!

Then the door slammed open beyond them, and through a dim fog, she heard Edwin say, “Let go of her, you bastard, or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life!”

It took all of Edwin’s strength not to hurtle across the room and plant a facer on Durand. But laying out the charge d’affaires of the French embassy would set tongues to wagging, and the last thing they needed was rumors swirling about Clarissa and Durand. The man would use them to force her into marriage.

The very idea made Edwin’s blood run cold. Especially when she stood stock-still, trembling, her face white. Seeing her so shaken cut through him like a knife of ice. If the man hadn’t stopped trying to kiss her at that moment, Edwin might have pummeled the bastard anyway.

“Step away from her.” Edwin held his hands curled into fists before him in a pugilist’s stance. “Now!”

Durand frowned. “Stay out of this, Blakeborough. It’s none of your concern.”

“The devil it isn’t.” Edwin said the first thing that came into his head. “She’s my fiancée.”

Bloody hell. Had he actually said that? He’d never been good at lies, and that was a colossal one.

But he wouldn’t back out of it now. Too much was at stake. “So I’ll thank you to keep your hands off her unless you want to end up laid out on the floor.”

Looking panicked, Clarissa rushed over to put herself between them. “That’s enough, both of you!” She grabbed Edwin’s rigid arm and dragged on it until he reluctantly lowered his fist. “There will be no brawling. There
must
be no brawling.” Her imploring gaze said,
This must remain private.

Damn it. She was right.

“You heard the lady,” Durand said with a smug tone. “There’s no need for brawling. Especially since we both know you’re lying about being her fiancé.”

She whirled on the man with a fierce look. “He is not.” Then she grabbed Edwin’s hand. “I just told you I’m in love with someone else. You simply refused to listen.”

Even knowing she was bluffing about being in love didn’t diminish the power of those words. Or the strange sensation of her fingers clinging to his hand so intimately. As if she needed him.

God help him, he would be here for her, no matter how many lies he had to spout. She was still shaken. He could tell.

It brought anger roaring up inside him once more. “I suggest you leave, Durand, or I won’t be accountable for my actions.”
That
was certainly not a lie.

The Frenchman laughed dismissively. “And what do you think you could do?”

Edwin’s free hand was still clenched in a fist at his side. “Not for nothing did my brother spend all his time with pugilists. They taught him how to fight,
and he taught me. I’m happy to demonstrate what I learned.”

Rabidly eager, in fact. He couldn’t explain the violence of his anger, but it was a palpable, twisting creature inside him. If Durand made one move toward Clarissa, Edwin would gleefully punch the arse in the jaw.

Eyes narrowing, Durand glanced from him to Clarissa. “Your fiancé, eh? If that’s true, then why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

“We’re keeping it secret until my cousin returns.” Clarissa sounded far calmer than Edwin felt, though the surprising strength with which she gripped his hand belied her tone. “Edwin hasn’t had the chance to ask Lord Knightford for my hand formally.”

“Why not?” Durand crossed his arms over his chest. “Knightford brought you to town only a couple of days ago, didn’t he?”

Edwin’s gut twisted into a knot. The man knew her comings and goings that well? “Not that it’s any of your concern, but he had to leave right away again on business.” Edwin stared down into Clarissa’s face with what he hoped was a convincing lover-like expression as he prepared to lie his arse off. “Besides, I wanted to speak to her before I approached him. So I did. Yesterday. Unfortunately, by then he was already gone.”

The Frenchman scowled. “I don’t believe either of you. Here’s what I think happened.” Ignoring Edwin entirely, Durand sidled nearer, and Clarissa pressed herself against Edwin’s side so instinctively that it worried him. “Knightford had to leave on business, and he was afraid that if he left her ladyship alone, I
might persuade her to give me a chance. So he asked his good friend to stand in for him as her protector.”

“And why would I agree to that?” Edwin asked.

“Yes,” she said swiftly. “Why would he agree—or then make up a story about an engagement? And why would I support it, instead of just telling Edwin to leave you and me alone?”

Durand fixed his gaze on her. “Because they’ve poisoned you against me. But don’t worry. I shan’t relinquish my pursuit just because this arse is trying to keep you from me.”

Edwin pushed between her and Durand. “Come near her again, and I will make you regret it.”

Durand chuckled. “She
let
me kiss her, you fool.”

“I did not!” Clarissa cried.

“And the minute your back is turned,” Durand went on, ignoring her, “she won’t be able to resist finding me. You’ll see. All that this ploy of yours does is delay the inevitable.”

A cold chill ran down Edwin’s spine. The man was mad. And madmen were always dangerous. “Get. Out.” Edwin stared him down. “Before I decide to give you that demonstration in pugilism after all.”

The arse held up his hands. “Whatever you wish, my lord. I shall look forward to proving you wrong about Lady Clarissa and me.” After casting a lingering look at Clarissa, he left.

She collapsed onto the settee like an automaton falling to bits. It alarmed Edwin. He didn’t like her color. Or the fear in her eyes. He should have taken Warren’s concerns more seriously. But what the devil was wrong with Durand? Why would he want a woman who so obviously didn’t want him?

After walking to the door to make sure the Frenchman was truly gone, he filled a glass of brandy from a nearby decanter and returned to her side. “Drink this.”

“Isn’t it a bit soon in our engagement to be plying me with spirits?” she quipped, but she took the glass from him with shaky hands. She sipped some and grimaced. “Good Lord. Gentlemen drink this swill routinely?”

He knew a desperate attempt to hide distress when he saw one. With some difficulty, he tried to match her light tone, hoping to encourage her to talk about what had just happened. “We have it for breakfast. And I’m sure our host would be appalled to hear you calling his fine French brandy swill.”

She gulped some, obviously having discovered its power to help one forget, and he took the glass from her. “Not too much; you’ll make yourself sick. And I don’t want to have to carry you out in my arms and cause a scandal.”

“No, though that would probably convince Durand of our engagement.” She stared off across the room, her eyes distant.

“Better now?” he asked, fighting the urge to seize her and hold her. She would
not
appreciate that.

“I’m fine.” She forced a tremulous smile. “Really. He merely . . . took me off guard is all.”

Edwin might not be good at reading people, but he knew one thing. She was
not
fine. “Perhaps I should call in your mother.”

“Don’t you dare!” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Mama wouldn’t be any help. And anyway, she’s the reason I ended up in here in the first place. A servant told me
that she was ill and needed me in the drawing room, so I came.”

“He lured you here, in other words.”

Rubbing her arms as if to bring warmth to her chilled blood, she nodded. “I can’t believe I fell for it.” She was silent for a long moment. Then she started, and her gaze shot to him. “Edwin, I didn’t let him kiss me, you know.”

“I didn’t think you had.”

As if she hadn’t heard him, she went on hastily, “When I wouldn’t fall into his arms, he . . . he . . .”

“Pushed a kiss upon you,” Edwin said tightly, wishing he’d torn the man off her by force.

A haunted look crept into her eyes. “I should have . . . slapped him or scratched him or something, but I . . . froze. I couldn’t fight, I couldn’t do anything. I—”

“You were afraid. He had you trapped.”

“Yes!” The gratitude in her eyes fairly slayed him. She rose to face him. “He mistook my rigidity for acquiescence. But it wasn’t. And I didn’t encourage the kiss. I truly didn’t!”

“I believe you. I can tell when a woman is avoiding a man.” He approached her. “And this incident proves that he’s still obsessed with you. Disturbingly so.”

She began to pace in short, quick steps that matched her short, quick breaths. “I had hoped the blackguard would have forgotten about me by now.”

How could anyone forget about Clarissa? She was vibrant, alive. Everything most men wanted in a woman.

Most men. Not him.

Liar.
“Clearly he has not.” He gazed steadily at her. “Was he always like this?”

She shook her head. “Not at first. He simply courted me like any other gentleman. I—I suppose he took my flirtatiousness for encouragement.”

“No,” he said firmly. The words reminded him too much of his mother’s for comfort. “A gentleman always proceeds with caution until he’s sure of his reception.”

“He’s French. Perhaps he doesn’t know how to behave.”

Edwin snorted. “He was born and raised here, was he not? He knows the rules. He simply chooses to ignore them. You cannot possibly think that bribing a footman to lie about your mother being ill and then accosting you alone, with no chaperone, is considered acceptable behavior anywhere, here
or
in France.”

“No, I suppose not. Though when he proposed and I refused him, he accused me of leading him on.” She lifted her gaze to Edwin. “I swear I did not.”

“Of course not.” He hesitated before raising a delicate subject. “Why
did
you refuse him, anyway, if he’d behaved honorably up until that point?”

She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “He kept trying to get me alone, and he sent me private notes. I don’t like that sort of . . . behavior. He always had something, well,
off
about him. Not quite normal, you know?”

“I do know.” Edwin had known another man like that. The one who had ruined his mother’s life. “Which is why it’s imperative that you not go off
alone again for any reason. Take me with you if you must venture out. It’s best to err on the side of caution, since the man is obviously behaving irrationally.”

An anxious frown crossed her brow as she whirled on him. “True, but you shouldn’t have told him we were engaged. I have no intention of marrying you.”

He stiffened. “Of course not.”

As if she realized what she’d said, she winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it—”

“It’s fine. I know how you feel about me.” He was grumpy Edwin, the fellow whose company no woman could abide for long. The man who knew love was a lie.

He would resent the reputation, except that it was all true.

“It-it’s not you,” she said hastily. “I have no intention of marrying
anyone
. That’s the other reason I didn’t consider accepting Durand’s proposal.”

“Right.”

She was merely trying to soothe his pride. The damned woman was too softhearted for her own good.

“I’m being honest,” she persisted. “It has nothing to do with you or—”

“I was only trying to get him away from you, devil take it! I didn’t mean anything by it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss.”