The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(5)

As they made their slow way down the stairs, Clarissa let her mother drone on, only half listening to the usual recitation of little tricks designed to hook a man and reel him in. Those might have enabled her Cit of a mother to snag an earl, but they smacked of deception to Clarissa.

If a man couldn’t like her as she was, what was the point? Clarissa could barely hide her true opinions from Mama. How was she to do it with a husband?

Not that she ever intended to have a husband. Granted, she wouldn’t mind having children, but that required taking a man into her bed—and the very thought made her hands grow clammy and her throat close up.

No. Marriage was not for her.

“. . . and do be sure to save the biggest slice of cake for Edwin,” Mama said as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Nonsense. I’m not saving anything for Edwin.”

“That’s only fair,” drawled Edwin from somewhere in the shadows to the right of the staircase. “I’m not saving anything for you, either.”

Striving to hide her surprise, she halted as he came into the light.

“Edwin!” Mama cried. “My dear boy!” She held out her hand.

Dutifully, he came forward to take it. “You’re looking well, Lady Margrave.” He bent to brush a kiss to Mama’s cheek.

No kiss for Clarissa, of course. He was too much the gentleman for that.

“You’re looking rather fine yourself,” Mama chirped as she drew back to survey him.

And Lord, but he was, in his tailcoat of dark-blue wool and his waistcoat and trousers of plain white poplin. Even his cravat was simply tied, which only accentuated the masculine lines of his jaw and sharp planes of his features, so starkly handsome.

How had he managed to grow even more attractive in a mere three months? And why on earth was she gawking at him? This was Edwin, for pity’s sake. It would swell his head even more if he knew what she was thinking.

Instead, she teased him. “Don’t tell me—you were so impatient for us to come down that you’ve been pacing the foyer in anticipation.”

The idea was ludicrous, of course. Impatient wasn’t even in Edwin’s vocabulary. If ever a man believed that slow and steady won the race, it was he.

And he clearly recognized the irony, for he flashed her one of his rare smiles. “Actually, I was fetching this from the library. Warren told me he was done with it.” His eyes gleamed in the lamplight as he held out a book. “Of course, if you wish to read it yourself . . .”

“Doubtful,” she said. “Any book you loaned him has to be deadly dull.”

“You mean, because it lacks gallant highwaymen rescuing virtuous ladies.”

“Or virtuous ladies rescuing gallant highwaymen. Either would be preferable to one of your dry tomes on . . . what? Chess? Engineering? Philosophy of the most boring sort?”

“Clarissa,” Mama chided.

But Edwin merely laughed, as she’d hoped he would. She took great pride in the fact that she could sometimes make him laugh. No other woman seemed able to. No other woman dared try.

“Mechanical engineering,” he said. “However did you guess?”

“Because I know you all too well, sir.”

He sobered, his gaze turning oddly intense even for him. “Do you? I’m not so sure.”

The words hung in the air a moment in frozen silence before that was shattered by her cousin’s approach.

“I found another book you might enjoy, old boy,” Warren said as he bent to kiss first his aunt, then Clarissa. “It’s about automatons.”

She rolled her eyes as Warren handed it to Edwin. Of course, keen interest leapt in Edwin’s face the moment he scanned the cover. The earl did love his automatons, to the point where he even made his own, though Clarissa had never been deemed worthy enough to actually see one.

“Looks intriguing, thanks. I’ll get it back to you as soon as I’m done.”

“No hurry.” Warren shot her a veiled glance. “As you well know, I won’t need it anytime soon.”

Whatever was that about?

Before she could ponder it, Warren offered Mama his arm. “Come, Aunt, let’s get you off your feet while we have our wine before dinner. Don’t want to tax your hip overmuch.”

“Thank you, my lad,” she cooed, and let him lead her to the breakfast room. “That is ever so thoughtful of you! But then, you always were a dear. Why, I remember when . . .”

As Mama prattled on, Edwin was left to come behind with Clarissa. “So,” he murmured, “exactly what were you refusing to save for me?”

It took her a moment to remember that he’d overheard her earlier. “The biggest slice of cake.”

“I don’t like cake.”

“I know. That’s why I’m not wasting it on you. You won’t appreciate it, and you’d probably eat it just to be polite.”

He slanted a serious glance at her. “Perhaps I’d give it to you, instead.”

“I doubt that, but we’ll never know, shall we?” she said lightly. “I’m saving it for myself, regardless.”

“So I heard.”

“Because you were eavesdropping.” Mischief seized her. “How rude of you.”

As they passed into the breakfast room, he shrugged. “If you don’t want people hearing your pronouncements, you shouldn’t talk at the volume of a dockworker.”