The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(44)

No more than yours.

Not true. Edwin would never want to gain Clarissa by shaming her. And the fact that Durand would stoop so low chilled Edwin through and through. He had half a mind to shoot the arse right here and now.

But since the guards all knew of Edwin’s presence, he wouldn’t get away with it. He’d be tried and hanged, almost certainly. That, too, would affect Clarissa.

And not just her. It would expose his sister to yet another scandal, a worse one than anything their cursed younger brother had fomented. Yvette was finally happy; he refused to ruin that for her and her new husband.

Besides, there was another solution to this dilemma, one that would nip all of Durand’s machinations in the bud. But it would take a bit of time to put his plan into place. So, as much as he wished to throw the count’s threats back in his face, he must be cautious.

“I need a few days to think about it.” Edwin practically choked on the lie. Though it was a necessary one, he loathed implying that he’d ever consider capitulating.

Durand narrowed his gaze on Edwin. “Why?”

Edwin shrugged. “That should be obvious. If I withdraw my offer to Clarissa, she could—and probably would—have me charged with breach of contract. So I must consult my lawyer about the likely outcome of such a charge and what it might cost me financially. I must also consider which scandal would damage my family more—the revelation of my father’s secrets or the sudden refusal to marry a woman I’ve publicly proclaimed as my fiancée. Then there is also the matter—”

“Enough. I take your meaning.” Durand scrutinized him closely. “You really are a cold man sometimes, Blakeborough. I threaten to take away Lady Clarissa, and all you can think about is how it will affect your purse.”

If Durand thought so, then at least Edwin was managing to shield his true feelings. “I like to think I’m practical. As you say, Clarissa and I aren’t in love—but that doesn’t mean I’m unaware of what effect giving in to your demands could have on my life.”

The count seemed to consider that. “Fine. You can have two days. But I expect your decision at the end of the day after tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Edwin affected the bored tone typical of a lord of his rank. “Now, since this conversation has grown tiresome, I’ll leave you to your cigars.”

“You can show yourself out, I suppose,” Durand said.

With the merest of nods, Edwin calmly left the room.

But inside he was seething. It was all he could do to contain his fury until he was safely in his carriage and away. Father, a spy for the French. His gut twisted into a knot at the very thought.

Though it did explain so much. Why Father had always been so inattentive to his family. Why, when Mother was dying, he’d continued his jaunts to London. And why Edwin had never noticed any signs of opium intoxication on the few occasions Father was home. Had he ever even used opium? Or had he just gone to the opium den for his French masters?

The other thing he didn’t understand was why. What could possibly have made Father wish to involve himself in such affairs? Some fondness for his French relations? It didn’t seem plausible.

But the documents had clearly been written by Father. It wasn’t just his handwriting—it was his manner of speech, his use of certain words. And Edwin didn’t dare turn to anyone for advice, for fear the news would get out and the family’s name be dragged through the mud.

There was only one way out of this. Clarissa wouldn’t like it, but he must do his utmost to convince her to marry him by special license before he met with Durand again. Short of telling her exactly what Durand had found out about his father, of course. She was skittish enough about marrying him; if she knew there was a small chance she could be cut off from society, she would dig in her heels.

And this must be handled quickly. Even if Durand was bluffing about his threats to expose Father’s spying, the very fact that he was so adamant about marrying Clarissa was cause for alarm. The Frenchman might even attempt abducting her. Plenty of men did that with heiresses.

But not on Edwin’s watch. He would see Durand hang before he let the bastard harm one hair on her head.





Twelve


Shortly after sunset the next day, too early to dress for dinner and too late for a nap, Clarissa lounged about her room. Should she wear the lace pelerine or the net fichu with her dinner gown? Edwin was unlikely to care either way. As long as her attire was presentable, he probably wouldn’t even notice.

No, he only noticed when her bosom was half-bare.

Her eyes narrowed. Very well, no pelerine or fichu at all. Because tonight she wanted to make him notice her—to make him see her for herself, with all her flaws. To make him understand that she really wasn’t the sort of woman he wanted to marry.

Although that hadn’t worked last night. It had only made him randy, something she would never have expected of the staid Edwin. And if she flaunted her bosom at him, he might look at her with that piercing stare that made her shiver all over, and then she would forget her purpose. Which was to very kindly but firmly refuse to marry him.

Yes—that was her plan and she must hold to it, no matter how much he growled in that oh-so-enticing rumble that half negated whatever he was saying. Even if he took her aside privately and gave her one of his luscious kisses that went on and on and on. Even if Mama, in her foolishness, left them alone again, and he tried to kiss his way down into—