The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(14)

“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.”