The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(45)

Fichu. Definitely a fichu. And while she was at it, perhaps a nice suit of armor to keep him from being tempted and her from giving in.

A clatter sounded against the French doors that led out to her balcony. What on earth? Another rattle sounded. And another.

Hurrying out onto the balcony, she peered into the garden below, which was faintly lit by the gaslights from the mews in the back. And there, dressed far too informally for dinner, was Edwin.

She gaped down at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I need to talk to you privately. Now. It’s urgent.”

“Then come in the front door like a civilized person and ask for me.”

“I can’t. I don’t want your mother involved. I don’t even want the servants to know I’ve been here. Come down. We can talk in the garden.”

Alone in the garden? Not likely. The very idea made a thrill course down her spine. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m in my dressing gown.” She turned for the door. “Come back for dinner—that’s soon enough to talk.”

“Very well. I’ll just have to come up.”

What? She rushed back to the balcony in time to see him scaling the tall, spindly beech that rose too far away from her balcony to be of use to him.

“Edwin!” she hissed. “Stop that at once! It won’t hold your weight.”

He ignored her and kept climbing.

She watched with her heart in her throat. “What do you mean to do? Leap through the air? It’s too far!”

If she raised an alarm, that would put an end to it . . . but something held her back. Curiosity? His expression of grim determination? Her worry that if anyone came out and distracted him, he might fall?

“Edwin,” she whispered as he reached the level of her balcony. “Oh, do be careful. Don’t even think about jumping.”

Already, visions of his body broken on the garden paving stones below haunted her. But curiously, he kept climbing. The tree started to bow with his weight, and he shifted to the side nearest her balcony. When it bowed even more, she had to bite back a scream.

Then the tree bent just enough to set him down right before her.

When he released the beech, it sprang back into place. Then he dusted off his hands and trousers, as if he climbed onto balconies so deftly every day.

She wanted to throttle him. “Are you mad? You could have killed yourself!”

He blinked. “Nonsense. I knew precisely what I was doing. I calculated the circumference and height of the tree against my weight and the pull of gravity, and figured it would be fine.”

“Figured!” She poked him in the chest. “If you had figured wrong, you would have broken your neck!”

He grabbed her hand, his eyes glittering in the faint candlelight from the room. “You were worried about me.”

“Of course I was worried about you!”

“Then you should have come down,” he said very matter-of-factly.

“I would have, if I’d known you’d turned into a reckless fool overnight.”

He curled his fingers around her hand. “I was a boy once, you know. We learn to climb trees with our mother’s milk.” He tried to tug her close. “I was fine. Really.”

She snatched her hand free, her heart still thundering in her chest, and walked back into the room. Edwin, climbing trees. Who would have thought it?

As he followed her inside, she snapped, “So tell me. What was so all-fired important that you had to risk your life to speak to me alone?”

“Durand was here last night.”

That halted her in her tracks. With her throat tightening, she whirled to face him. “What do you mean?”

“Down the street. He was watching the house.” The deadly seriousness in his tone confirmed the truth of his words. “I confronted him, and he gave me an ultimatum.”

Her stomach began to churn. “What sort of ultimatum?”

A muscle worked in Edwin’s jaw. “Either I call off our engagement by tomorrow evening, or he’ll reveal some unsettling secrets about my family.”

“What secrets?”

“I’d rather not say. But they would essentially destroy whatever credit Yvette and I have in society. We would be outcasts.”

Yvette? It had something to do with Yvette? And him, too. Oh no. “If that happened, you wouldn’t be able to find a wife,” she whispered.

“Precisely.”

A hard lump stuck in her throat. She considered prodding him to reveal what secrets Count Durand was holding over him, but if they were enough to make him this alarmed, they had to be bad. Which meant he wouldn’t talk about them with her. He never revealed such things to her. Why, she wouldn’t even have known about how uncaring his father had been toward the family if Yvette hadn’t told her.

Edwin wasn’t the sort of man to open his past to anyone, even a woman he contemplated marrying.

And it probably wouldn’t change anything if she knew. “Well, then, it appears you have no choice.” She swallowed hard. “You must end our betrothal. Or better yet, I’ll jilt you. Honestly, I never intended to marry any—”

“You’re not listening, Clarissa.” Stepping closer, he fixed her with a bleak glance. “He wants me to end things because he wants you to have no recourse but to marry him.”