The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(33)

“I take it that you and the count are well-acquainted,” Edwin said to Lady Anne, his hard voice as much a mockery of civility as Clarissa’s smile.

“We were introduced only this afternoon,” the count answered for her, “but of course I invited the lovely lady and her mother to join me in my box this evening.” He patted her hand. “How could I resist?”

Lady Anne blushed a bright pink. “Oh, you are such a flatterer, sir.”

He flashed that sly smile that Clarissa had grown to loathe. Unfortunately, when he did it, his eyes were fixed on her, not Lady Anne.

Then he approached Clarissa’s mother, who rose with a rustle of taffeta skirts. “Lady Margrave, enchanted to see you again. You’re looking very well.”

Mama had been impressed with Durand in the beginning, until she’d started noticing how much he upset Clarissa. After that she’d always taken her cue on how to treat him from Clarissa.

But tonight she was behaving oddly, even for her, with an almost unnatural friendliness. “Why, thank you, Count Durand, that is very kind of you to say. I’m feeling particularly strong this evening. Haven’t needed my salts once.”

Then she cast a knowing look at Edwin, and Clarissa realized what she was about—she’d fixed her sights on the earl as a husband for Clarissa, and she meant to use Durand as a weapon in that endeavor.

“That’s good to hear.” The count swept the room with a look, then said, in a voice loud enough to carry at least to the boxes on either side, “I suppose you’re excited about your daughter’s recent betrothal to Lord Blakeborough.”

Silence descended upon the box, and every eye turned to Clarissa and Edwin. As her mother’s mouth dropped open, Clarissa froze. How dared he? She was going to kill him!

This time she was the one to start forward, and Edwin was the one to grip her hand where it clutched his arm. “Not now, not here,” he murmured, echoing her own words.

It was clear from Durand’s expression that he hadn’t believed the lie Clarissa and Edwin had told him. So he meant to corner them, to force them to either confirm his suspicion or admit publicly to an engagement.

If they didn’t admit it, he would be back to hounding her everywhere. But if they did, Edwin . . .

“Engaged?” her mother squeaked as she recovered her wits. She rounded on Clarissa and Edwin. “You’re engaged, my dears? How fabulous! I knew it would come—I knew it!” She limped up to Clarissa. “What did Edwin say? What did you say? How did it come about? Oh, do tell me everything!”

“You didn’t know about the betrothal, Lady Margrave?” Durand asked, with a veiled glance at Clarissa.

“Of course not.” Mama tipped her head to one side. “It just happened, didn’t it?”

As Clarissa stood there in a panic, Edwin stepped into the breach. “Not exactly. Forgive us, but we were waiting until Warren’s return to ask for his blessing at the same time we asked for your permission.” His voice sharpened. “Count Durand knew this, but apparently couldn’t abide by our wish that he keep silent on the subject.”

A small frown appeared on Mama’s brow. “Exactly how long have you had an understanding? And why would you tell Count Durand, but not me?”

“We didn’t tell him. He discovered it by accident.” Edwin leveled Durand with a cold glance. “And now he means to embarrass us with it, presumably out of a fit of pique over Clarissa’s rejection of his own proposal of marriage.”

For once, Clarissa was glad of his bluntness. Even though an audible gasp came from their guests, who looked scandalized by the public exposure of Count Durand’s motives, the angry flush rising up the Frenchman’s neck made her want to kiss Edwin.

Take that, Count. Perhaps next time you’ll think twice before confronting me and Edwin.

Although she did feel sorry for poor Lady Anne, who paled as she apparently realized that the count had merely used her to get admitted to Clarissa’s box.

“Edwin, for shame,” Mama said with a tsking noise. “I agree that the man shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but there’s no need for you to lord it over him because you gained my daughter’s hand and he did not.”

If Clarissa weren’t still furious at the Frenchman, she would have laughed at his scowl in response to Mama’s words.

“They’ve been engaged for nearly a week,” Count Durand bit out, clearly determined to keep stirring up trouble. “I can’t imagine why your daughter wouldn’t at least mention it to you, madam.”

But it had finally sunk in with Mama that Clarissa would be marrying at last, and the man’s insinuations couldn’t ruin that for her. “A week, you say? Well.” She patted Clarissa’s shoulder. “I do wish you’d told me sooner, my dear, for we could have started the wedding preparations that much earlier. But no matter. Have you talked about when to marry? Where?”

“Mama,” Clarissa said, “let us discuss this later, if you please.”

“Why? We’ve no time to waste. We must start thinking about it all.” She began to muse aloud. “You could marry in St. Paul’s Cathedral. But it would have to be in summer, for the cathedral is very damp, even in spring. Or perhaps St. James’s? No, too small.” She turned to her friends. “What do you think? She could marry from home, but I would prefer a London wedding.”