The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(26)

“Durand is a typical Frenchman, that’s all,” Rathmoor said dismissively. “Eloquent with the ladies. Rather like my half brother, who has just enough French in him to be dangerous.”

Edwin didn’t want to let the conversation wander into some tangent about Rathmoor’s relations. “But Durand hasn’t a reputation for, say, seducing gentlewomen, does he?” He figured both men would take the question in stride, since that was the purpose of the club, after all—to separate the wheat from the chaff regarding suitors.

“Not to my knowledge.” Fulkham tapped to demand another card. “The man is unmarried, after all. He’s probably looking for a wife.”

“So he has no skeletons in his past,” Edwin persisted.

Rathmoor dealt another card to the baron. “It wouldn’t matter if he did. I suppose if he’d committed some indiscretion you could shame him in society with it, but that’s about all you could do.”

“And even that would be inadvisable,” Fulkham added. “Matters are rather strained right now between France and England. The last thing we need is some brouhaha over the charge d’affaires’ skeletons, whatever they may be. Besides, unless it was the worst sort of criminal act, he would be immune to prosecution as a diplomat.”

That hadn’t occurred to Edwin. And so far the man hadn’t committed any criminal act that Edwin knew of. Which meant it would be very difficult to banish Durand from London.

Fulkham cast him a warning glance. “I would advise your curious friend not to take on a man like the count. Durand is connected to several powerful gentlemen in France, and has a few important connections in England as well.”

Do they know he’s half-mad? Edwin nearly asked. But he couldn’t say that. He’d have to explain, and that would mean risking Clarissa’s reputation.

“Well, then, I suppose that is that,” Edwin said smoothly. “Thank you for the information. My friend will be relieved.”

Edwin would simply have to hope that Durand’s absence at the party earlier today meant that the man had finally gotten the message and was staying away. Because going on the offensive with the charge d’affaires didn’t appear a viable option. Which meant Edwin would of necessity be spending more time with Clarissa.

When his pulse quickened at the thought, he cursed himself for a fool. Pray God Durand was out of their hair soon. Otherwise, Edwin was in for a long and difficult Season.

“You had best go dress for dinner, my dear,” Clarissa’s mother said. “His lordship will be here in an hour.”

“There’s plenty of time,” Clarissa muttered.

The drawing room was cozy at this time of day, with the late-afternoon sun streaming in, and she was in no hurry. Indeed, she dreaded the evening ahead. She almost wished Edwin wasn’t coming to dine on this rare night when she and Mama had no engagements.

Yesterday, when he’d accompanied them to services, he’d been as stiff as a poker and had barely spoken two words. No doubt her final reaction to his kiss on Saturday night had insulted him. Lord only knew how surly he’d be at dinner.

But before she could think about going to dress, the butler appeared in the drawing room doorway to announce Edwin’s arrival.

She jumped to her feet, patting her hair feverishly. Good Lord, he was early! And when he entered, she noticed he was rather formally attired for dinner. He even wore a many-caped dress cloak that he’d apparently not allowed the footman to remove.

“We weren’t expecting you yet, sir.” She tried to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room. No doubt she looked a fright.

If she did, he didn’t seem to notice. “I fear there’s been a change of plans, ladies,” Edwin said distractedly.

Mama bolted upright. “Nothing has happened to Warren or Niall, has it?”

Edwin looked startled. “No, no, nothing like that.”

“Warren has scarcely been gone a week, Mama,” Clarissa said. “He’s probably still on the ship to Portugal. He certainly couldn’t have met with Niall yet.” Though she dreaded what he might learn when he did—that she was the cause of Niall’s exile. It was a constant source of shame and guilt for her.

But Niall would never reveal it. He’d kept her secret from Mama and her cousin all these years; why should he betray it now?

“Oh. Yes, you’re right.” Mama sank back in her seat. “So what is this ‘change of plans,’ Edwin?”

“I entirely forgot that I’m obligated to attend the opening of a new enterprise tonight. I won’t be able to stay for dinner. You’re welcome to go with me, but if you prefer not to, I’ll understand. It’s rather sudden, I know.”

He said it almost as if he hoped they wouldn’t go. No doubt he was tiring of fulfilling his promise to Warren now that Count Durand’s interest in her seemed to have waned.

Fine. She hadn’t wanted to dine with him, anyway. She was looking forward to a lovely evening alone with Mama. Truly, she was.

“What is the opening for?” Mama asked.

“I’m sure it’s nothing that would interest us, Mama.” Clarissa glided over to the window with studied nonchalance. “It’s probably a lecture hall or an exhibit of machines or something equally dull.”

“Actually, my Lady Spitfire,” he drawled, “it’s the reopening of the Olympic Theatre.”