The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(43)

Edwin’s blood chilled. “What the devil does that mean?”

Durand flicked some ash. “All I need do is send this to the press, and you’d be ruined in society.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Edwin fought to hide the tumult inside him. “With all the talk of another revolution to depose Charles X, your superiors have their hands full. They won’t appreciate your stirring up a hornet’s nest in England.”

“What hornet’s nest? I’d merely be guaranteeing that your position in society drops to somewhere below that of a charwoman. Especially after the scandal that your brother’s criminal conviction engendered. Your sister’s recent marriage might have restored the family name to a small degree, but this would destroy it for good.”

Somehow Edwin managed a shrug. “That would merely mean I’d no longer have to deal with the likes of you.”

“Ah, but you wouldn’t be alone in your loss of consequence, would you?” With a grim smile, Durand pushed away from the cabinet. “How do you think Lady Clarissa would react if her association with you turned her into an outcast in society, too?”

God rot the bastard. Edwin knew how Clarissa would react. She might not care that his father had been a spy, but she would most assuredly hate leaving good society. Not being able to go to parties and routs and be the belle of the ball.

Durand pressed his point with ruthless efficiency. “Do you think she’d even consider marrying you if there was a chance it might mean suffering in solitude with you for the rest of your life? Does she care about you that much?”

Edwin feared he knew the answer to that, and it made an unmanageable anger roar up inside him. “My relationship with my betrothed is none of your concern. And yes, she’d stand by me. Because unlike you, Clarissa has a sound character.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Durand said.

The crafty remark only further fired Edwin’s temper. With a growl, Edwin thrust his face into the other man’s. “If you’re insinuating anything insulting about my fiancée—”

“No.” Durand’s face clouded over. “Though she isn’t the woman you think she is.”

“Because she won’t marry you, you mean? That only proves her intelligence and good sense.”

Durand stiffened. After stubbing out his cigar in a salver, he slid the file from Edwin’s clenched fingers. “Careful, Blakeborough. If you keep provoking me, I might just send this to the press for the fun of it.”

“Go ahead. Then you and I can be churned under the gossip mill together. You’re not the only one who can spread slander effectively.”

Durand’s cold stare would have frozen fire. “Have you considered that I could implicate you in your father’s activities? You were, what? Eighteen or nineteen at the time this was going on? Not too young to be helping your father spy.”

“There’s not a shred of evidence I had anything to do with it,” Edwin scoffed. “I was away at university.”

“Not all the time. And you were certainly old enough to accompany him to that private opium den.”

Edwin suddenly found it hard to breathe. In the last year of the war, he hadn’t been at university. He’d been at Mother’s side during her final hours. And he had visited the opium den once, too. If someone were to remember, were to misconstrue that . . . “Why are you doing this?”

“I want Lady Clarissa. I had a claim on her long before you started courting her. I know you don’t love her, and I doubt she loves you, either. The two of you behave more like friends than like prospective spouses.”

A pity that Durand hadn’t discovered them in the midst of their unwise caresses earlier, although the wretch would probably have found a way to use that against them. “Tell yourself that our engagement doesn’t mean anything if you wish, but it won’t change the truth.”

“The truth is that I could show the file to Lady Clarissa. I don’t have to make it public. I daresay that would be enough to make her balk at being your wife.”

Considering that Edwin hadn’t even succeeded in getting her to agree to marry him, it probably would. “Is that what you meant by blackmail? You intend to expose my father’s secrets to her unless I do what you wish.”

“Exactly. I want you to set Lady Clarissa free.”

Edwin gaped at him. “Half of society has already heard that we’re engaged. If I were to end the betrothal, it would ruin her.”

“Precisely.” Durand’s eyes shone the color of dark, treacherous waters. “She’d have nowhere to turn, no possibility of marrying anyone else but me. Admit it—you’re merely involved with her because Knightford is your friend. But your heart isn’t engaged. Mine is. Leave her to me, and I’ll shower her with jewels and consequence and all the attention that a woman like her requires. Then I’ll destroy your father’s reports, burn them in front of you. You’ll never have to worry about anyone learning the truth. But if you do not do as I ask . . .”

Durand left the words hanging with the dramatic flourish of some operatic villain. Edwin couldn’t breathe. This made no sense. Why was the bastard so determined to have Clarissa as his wife? No doubt he was seeking some advantage by wedding her, but Edwin couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. As a highly placed diplomat, Durand could have any woman he desired. This fascination with a lady who had no interest in him was unnatural.