The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(12)

“Of course I don’t mind.” She glanced back over her shoulder to where the major was obviously anticipating her return to Mama’s side. “And I will escape to the retiring room.”

They parted ways then. Fortunately, by the time she emerged from powdering her nose and sweetening her breath, Major Wilkins was “showing a good leg” with someone else.

The next hour passed uneventfully. She danced a reel, two quadrilles, and another waltz, then paused to down some champagne. Not seeing her mother about, she decided to head toward the floor again and wait for someone to ask her for the next set. The champagne made her lightheaded, and she was enjoying just watching the dancers when a footman came to her side.

“Pardon me, milady,” he said, “but I was asked to inform you that your mother has fallen ill and is lying down in the drawing room.”

Oh, dear. Mama’s spurious fits of illness generally only came on when she wanted to get out of doing something. So she might actually be sick this time.

Clarissa picked up her reticule from where she’d left it on a table and hurried to the drawing room, prepared to administer the requisite smelling salts. But when she burst through the door, she saw no one there.

Had Mama already recovered and returned to the ballroom? Or had she been so ill that their hostess had moved her to a more comfortable room?

Only after the door clicked shut behind her did the truth dawn on her.

“Good evening, Lady Clarissa.”

A chill swept down her spine. She would recognize that faintly accented voice anywhere. God rot him and his sly ways.

Steeling herself, she turned to fix Count Geraud Durand with her iciest look. “Resorting to deceit now, sir? Surely that’s beneath you.”

His handsome features fell. “How else am I to see you alone? My trick wouldn’t have worked if your guards had learned I was in attendance.”

“My guards?”

“Your friends and family watch you like a hawk.” A fierce light shone in his blue eyes as he approached her. But something calculating glimmered in them, too, that had always given her pause. Always made her wary.

Though her stomach churned, she stood her ground. Showing weakness with men was invariably a mistake. If she had been stronger years ago, her brother would not be in exile.

So she must be firm. Put the count in his place once and for all. “My family wouldn’t need to watch me if you would stop hounding me.”

“Hounding you? I haven’t seen you in three months!”

“I’ve been away.” Straightening her evening gloves with feigned nonchalance, she gauged the distance to the door. “You could hardly expect me to remain in London when not a soul of consequence is here. I much prefer a steady diet of house parties and gaiety, as you well know.”

“You might prefer it, but that’s not where you’ve been.” He speared his fingers through the blond mane that had made him the focus of many an English girl’s fantasies. But not hers, not after she’d become better acquainted with him. “You’ve been in Shropshire.”

Her heart began to pound. They’d chosen Shropshire because Warren’s hunting lodge wasn’t well known. Yet somehow he’d found out. “And you say you haven’t been hounding me.”

He gave a Gallic shrug. “I made a few discreet inquiries, that’s all. At first I thought perhaps you’d gone to join your brother abroad.”

She stiffened. “Why would you think that?”

“You told me once that you wished you could visit him. I assumed you might have decided to do so.”

“And lead the English authorities right to him, if anyone happened to be watching? I’m no fool.”

“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.