The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(49)

“Because you’re very bad at it. I wasn’t about to risk your undoing everything by attempting to deceive Mama. You would never be convincing.”

“True.” It further heartened him that she seemed to know him so well sometimes. Although there were other times . . .

No, he would not think of that. They would have years to come to know each other better.

As they left in the phaeton, she sat stiffly in the seat, her hands gripping her reticule. Was she nervous? Worried?

Wishing she was not on her way to be married to him?

He ventured to set her at ease with a compliment. “Your gown is very . . . er . . .”

“Let me guess—‘fussy, frilly, and overdone,’” she said with a certain belligerence.

“Pink.”

Her rigid stance softened. “Oh. Yes. I suppose it is.”

“You look fetching in pink. Not that you ever look less than fetching in anything else, but it just seems that pink brings out the jade of your eyes and the ruby of your lips and—” He broke off as he realized he was babbling like that pup at the theater the night before last. And he never babbled. “You look lovely.”

She eyed him through the net that draped her face. “Thank you, but I know it’s a fussy ensemble. It was my only one with a veiled hat. And I wanted to have at least the semblance of dressing as a bride at my wedding.”

Regret stabbed him. “I’m sorry that’s being denied you.”

“Stop apologizing. Count Durand is the one to blame. You’re just trying to make things better.”

Well, at least she was aware of that. They rode some time in silence, until he realized that his solicitor’s office wasn’t much farther. “Did you read over the settlement?”

“Yes.” She stared ahead at the road. “You weren’t exaggerating when you said I would find it more than generous. But I do have one observation.”

He shot her a wary glance. “What is it?”

“The jointure you list is about twenty percent of the fortune I bring to the marriage. That seems excessive, given that the typical jointure is ten percent of what the bride brings to the marriage.”

Now that was a remark he’d never expected from Clarissa. But perhaps she didn’t understand the terminology. “A woman’s jointure provides for her once her husband dies, so it’s only fair—”

“I know what a jointure is, Edwin,” she said irritably. “I simply can’t figure out why you’re offering double the usual amount.”

He smiled. “I see that I’m about to gain a rather clever wife.”

“Were you in doubt of that?”

“Of course not,” he said hastily, recognizing a trap when he saw one. “But I didn’t expect you to have a knowledge of settlements or, for that matter, complicated mathematics.”

“I took care of most of managing the household even before Papa died.” She leaned close. “As you might imagine, Mama is not good with figures.”

“I’m shocked to hear it,” he said dryly.

She swatted him with her reticule. “I can criticize Mama. You cannot.”

“I see,” he said with a smile. “So there are rules for our marriage?”

“A number of them.”

“Are you going to tell me what they are?”

“In due time. Now, stop beating about the bush, and answer my question about the terms of the jointure in the settlement.”

When Clarissa got the bit between her teeth, she never let go. He wasn’t sure what that meant for a marriage between them. That he’d never have any peace, probably. “How do you even know what the ‘usual amount’ is for a jointure?”

“I knew what Mama’s was. And Yvette told me about hers.”

He gaped at her. “My sister discussed her marriage settlement with you?”

“We women discuss all sorts of things, you know, and thank heaven that we do. Since Mama would rather eat snakes than read a legal document, and my brother—or my cousin—isn’t here to negotiate my settlement, I was glad your sister had talked so much about hers when she was preparing for her wedding. It gave me something to go on when I looked it over.”

Trying to imagine his sister poring over such a document made his head hurt. Reading contracts didn’t seem like something she’d enjoy. “So you were able to . . . er . . . decipher the legal language?”

“With the help of a dictionary. And one of my cousin’s books.” She yawned, covering it rather ineffectively with one hand. “Which is why I got little sleep last night.”

He chuckled. “I’m surprised the language alone didn’t put you to sleep. It would have done me. I hate legal documents. But having overseen Yvette’s, I at least knew what was supposed to be in one.” After taking a corner a bit too fast, he slid her a side glance. “So you found your jointure acceptable? And the pin money?”

“Of course. I merely want to understand the reason for your generosity.” She shot him an arch look. “Are you trying to soften me up before you assert your authority? Or are you simply more reckless with your money than I realized?”

“I am neither a spendthrift nor tyrannical. Or, for that matter, calculating enough to try to ‘soften’ you up with money. I am merely trying to make up for the unorthodox nature of our marriage.”