The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(41)

Damn, now he had Lady Margrave making assumptions about him and his character, too. “I won’t be gambling,” he told Clarissa. “And it’s a meeting with a man. I can see you’re going to be quite the jealous wife.”

“Not a bit,” she said defensively.

“Edwin,” her mother broke in again, “since we missed our dinner with you tonight, you simply must come to dine tomorrow night.”

He tore his gaze from Clarissa to say, “Of course. I’d be delighted.”

“And be sure to bring an automaton for me,” Clarissa said blithely, “since I won our wager.”

That arrested Edwin. “You did not.”

“The agreement was that if you chided me—”

“Which I didn’t do.”

Her gaze narrowed on him. “Were you not just saying something about ‘looking beyond my own nose’ and being a ‘jealous wife’? Sounds an awful lot like chiding to me.”

“That’s absurd,” he said irritably, impatient to be away, “as you know perfectly well.”

“Now you’re chiding me for being absurd.”

“I’m not saying you’re absurd. I’m saying your remark is absurd.”

“Same thing.” She tapped his hand coyly with her fan. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to renege on our wager.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not—” he began, then halted as he noted the tension in her face.

In a flash, he realized that this was how Clarissa always handled a difficult situation. She made arch comments. She poked and prodded. She even flirted. And if that was what she had to do to take her mind off Durand, then he could at least give her that.

He gentled his voice. “All right. I concede defeat. I’ll bring you an automaton tomorrow night.”

She eyed him suspiciously, as if she couldn’t quite believe he’d given in. “It had better be a nice automaton, if you please. Something I can put on the mantel. And one you created, not one of those old—”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” he said, biting back a smile. “You want only the best. As usual.”

“You say that as if it’s a flaw in my character,” she said with a sniff.

“No, indeed.” Taking her hand and turning it over, he lifted it to his lips so he could slowly, carefully, kiss the inside of her wrist. When he felt her pulse quicken and heard her sigh softly, he murmured, “I’ve always preferred the highest of quality myself. In objects . . . and in people.”

The sudden shadow in her eyes was sobering. “I know that only too well.” She slipped her hand from his. “But I suspect that you and I differ in what we consider the highest of quality in people.”

The strange statement gave him pause. “I doubt that. But we can discuss it further tomorrow night.” Seeing her already withdrawing from him made him add, “Along with making plans for our future.”

“Our future,” she repeated dully. “That should prove an interesting discussion.”

She’d said she would think about marrying him, but clearly she was starting to balk again.

Why? Damn it, she was attracted to him—he was sure of it. No woman made such sweet little sounds when being kissed and caressed if she didn’t desire the person doing the kissing and caressing.

But no woman had ever brandished a hairbrush at him for it, either. The memory of that rubbed him as raw as a burr under a saddle. The fact that he could have been so carried away as to make her fear him . . .

It didn’t matter. He would remedy that, somehow. He might not be good at understanding women, but if he put his mind to it, surely he could woo one. And wooing Clarissa began to make more sense in light of the problems with Durand. He would simply have to convince her of it.

He bowed to the ladies. “Good night to you both, and thank you for joining me at the theater. I’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner.”

Then he strode out the front door. Time to deal with that blasted count.

The moment he was outside, he noticed a carriage stopped directly behind his. As he descended the steps, the carriage door opened and Durand stepped out.

“You and I need to talk,” the Frenchman said.

Edwin halted a few steps above the man. “Indeed we do. But not here.” He glanced up at the windows and prayed that Clarissa wasn’t looking out. “Somewhere more private.”

“Yes. If you’ll follow me to the French embassy, we can discuss this like civilized gentlemen.”

“That would require your being a gentleman, which seems unlikely.”

Durand flicked some nonexistent dirt off his sleeve. “It’s either here or there. Or perhaps we should go inside to talk about it with Lady Clarissa.”

Devil take the bastard. “Fine. I’ll meet you at the embassy.”

Despite the hour, it should be relatively safe there, with the usual guards present.

Still, when they pulled up in front of 50 Portland Place, he retrieved the small pistol he kept in his carriage for protection on late nights such as this. After checking to make sure it was loaded, he tucked it into the pocket of his dress cloak. He wasn’t taking any chances with Durand.

It was nearly 1:00 A.M. when he and the Frenchman entered the embassy. Though the guards seemed surprised to see the charge d’affaires so late, they merely exchanged a few words with him before leaving Durand and his guest to their own devices.