The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(51)

Yet nothing had changed. She still couldn’t let Edwin risk his family’s future. She still dared not risk her own with the deranged Durand.

When they arrived at St. George’s in Hanover Square, she was heartened to have a beautiful bouquet pressed into her hand by the vicar’s wife, who would be serving as one of the witnesses to the ceremony.

“Thank you.” She buried her face in the sweet lilies. “It’s most kind of you.”

The woman smiled. “Your fiancé picked them out, my lady.”

Startled, Clarissa glanced at Edwin, who was watching her with an expression she couldn’t decipher. Wariness? Anticipation? She could no more read him than she could the man in the moon. “Then thank you, too, Edwin.”

He gave her a genuine smile devoid of mockery and cynicism, and it changed his whole face, made him look almost boyish. She liked those smiles best, because they were so rare.

And he looked sinfully handsome today, in his dark-blue coat, fawn trousers, and white figured silk waistcoat. He really had excellent taste in clothes. But then, the Vile Seducer had dressed nicely, too. She’d learned far too young that you couldn’t judge a man’s character by his choice of tailor.

Still, she thought they probably made an attractive couple as they headed to the altar. Edwin had arranged everything most precisely. He’d pressed his tiger into service as the second witness, and he’d even thought to purchase wedding rings sometime between yesterday afternoon and this morning.

Even though he’d bought hers without having a measurement, she was sure the ring would fit. Knowing Edwin, he’d gauged her size by doing some complicated mathematics in his head involving her height, the circumference of her hand, and the length of her fingers. And quite possibly the latitude and longitude of the church.

For some reason, the idea of him doing something so typically Edwin reassured her. As he stood solemnly beside her, she wondered if he might even be having the same vacillating thoughts as she, especially after that moment in the solicitor’s office.

But when it came to the vows, he never wavered. He said, “I will,” as readily as if he were marrying the love of his life.

Then it was her turn. The vicar asked, “Lady Clarissa, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

The old-fashioned words spoken in the vicar’s somber tones echoed in the empty cathedral like a funeral dirge. Could she do this? Did she dare?

As she hesitated, she glanced at Edwin and saw the muscle in his jaw tighten. But he didn’t look at her, didn’t try to coax her to say the words, didn’t even reach up to squeeze her hand where it gripped his arm.

It truly was her choice. Except it was no choice at all.

“I will,” she said.

Only when Edwin let out a breath did she realize he’d been holding it, awaiting her answer. And somehow that made everything a tiny bit better.

Then came the kiss, which he didn’t linger over, probably overly conscious of their audience. And that was it. They were done. It wasn’t yet noon when they headed back to the town house.

They rode a while in silence before she ventured to speak. “Well, that was . . . quick.”

“Yes, of necessity. But I’m sorry that the ceremony couldn’t be more lavish.”

She arched a brow at him. “You know perfectly well you preferred it that way—no fuss and no crowds.” When he looked uncomfortable, she regretted the statement. “But it is a lovely church. I’ve always liked it. And it’s conveniently named for the same saint as your club. Or did you name your club after your church?”

“Certainly not. They named the church in anticipation of my club.”

When she blinked, he cast her a smug smile, and a laugh sputtered out of her. “You made a joke.”

“I do sometimes, you know.”

“Not very often. And hardly ever around me.”

“Well, then, I shall have to remedy that,” he said, nudging her knee with his.

It was such a companionable gesture that it made a lump form in her throat. He could be so charming when he tried. And now his knee was squarely up against hers and she was feeling rather . . . heated. That would not do.

Determinedly, she changed the subject. “Shall I now reside at your town house?” she asked brightly. “Or will we take a honeymoon trip?”

Returning his gaze to the road, he said, “I don’t think a trip is wise just now. If Durand does call my bluff and spread slander about my family, I don’t want to be too far away, making it seem as if I ran off to avoid it. People will give his tales less credence if I act as if nothing happened.”

She tried to hide her relief. A honeymoon trip would be so very intimate. It would be hard to share a room with him in an inn somewhere without . . . well . . . having relations. She needed to put that off as long as possible.

First, because she had to work herself up to enduring the pain. And second, because she wanted him to get to know her well enough so he wouldn’t be too appalled when he realized she wasn’t chaste. She was not looking forward to that discussion.

Perhaps she should just let him have his way with her tonight and get it over with. She didn’t have to tell him the truth. He already assumed that her fears stemmed from her being a virgin.