The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(8)

Clarissa crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that I’m being difficult.”

“No.”

As the minutes spun out between them, she tipped up her chin. “Then you’re going to try to tell me that I have no choice in the matter. But Warren is not really—”

“Your guardian. Yes, I know. You’re too old for that. But your father did leave him in charge of your fortune and did ask him to look after you. So that’s what Warren is trying to do. And you always have a choice. I’d never take that from you.”

When he allowed the silence to build again, she regarded him with rank suspicion. “You’re going to remind me of my duty to my family?”

That made him smile. “Hardly. Seems to me that you’re already fulfilling your duty to your family admirably.” Before she could retort, he added, “But if you don’t agree to this, Warren will worry about you while he’s off dealing with your brother, so his mind won’t be on what he’s doing. And that will hamper his ability to get Niall out of whatever mess he’s in.”

Gritting her teeth, she glanced away. “It’s surprisingly devious of you to come up with that, Edwin.”

“Not a bit. It’s the truth.”

“Then Warren should let me go with him. He can keep watch over me better that way.”

“And you will slow him down. Is that what you want? For him to arrive too late to help your brother?”

Her gaze swung back to him, a roil of flashing green that took his breath away. “Why should I slow him down?”

He shrugged. “You’ll need servants. You can’t travel without a maid at the very least, so arrangements will have to be made, more luggage accounted for, more time spent in customs—”

“Enough.” She fisted her hands at her sides. “I hate it when you’re logical.”

“I’m always logical. You hate it when I’m right.”

To his surprise, her lips twitched as if fighting a smile. “That, too.”

With his blood pounding, he searched her face. “Would it really be so terrible to spend time in my company?”

“No, of course not.” Whirling away from him, she went to stare out the window at the back garden. “I just hate that the count has more power over my life at present than I do. And we don’t even know if he’s still interested!”

“True. But if he is and he continues to plague you, wouldn’t you prefer to have someone in your corner?”

A sigh shuddered out of her. “Are you in my corner, Edwin?”

The question tightened an unfamiliar knot in his chest. “I am always in your corner.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “I should hope we are friends at the very least.”

“Friends?” She turned to cast him an enigmatic look that threw him off-balance. “Is that what we are? I’ve never been quite sure.”

Neither had he, but he wouldn’t admit that to her. “We are for the next few weeks. I gave Warren my word that I would look after you.”

For some reason, that seemed to provoke her. “I am not a child!” A hurt look crossed her face. “I’m a grown woman perfectly capable of handling some . . . unruly suitor.”

That was when it dawned on him why she was so angry about this. She was a proud woman. And being a proud man, he could understand not wanting to rely on anyone else for help.

“Of course you’re capable. No one doubts that.” When she glared at him, he realized he needed to change tacks. “Indeed, I envy you your ability to navigate society when I am so very bad at it.”

Her stance softened to skepticism. “You’re not that bad.”

“You’re not the first person to point out that I don’t compliment ladies sufficiently. So whatever time we can spend together might help us both. I’ll keep Warren happy by accompanying you, and you can give me some strategies for moving about society more effectively. It would be a fair exchange.”

She eyed him warily. “You think so, do you?”

“I am looking for a wife, you know. And finding one would be much easier if I didn’t insult women every time I opened my mouth.”

Apparently that struck her as amusing, for she flashed him a rueful smile. “True.”

He could put up with her attempts to instruct him if it meant keeping her out of the clutches of Durand. He owed it to Warren. “You can even play matchmaker, if you wish. Help me pick the perfect wife. This can work to our mutual benefit.”

“You’re better at smooth talk than you think,” she said archly, but she was still smiling, which he took as a good sign. “Oh, very well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? But you must promise not to curtail my pleasures too much. You’ll accompany me to parties and such, but nothing more—no lectures about how I must behave or whom I must avoid.”

“Of course. You’re not my sister. If you want to dance the night away with some arse, it’s not my concern.” His voice hardened. “As long as the arse is not Durand.”

“Trust me,” she said acidly, “it will never be Durand.”

“Then we’re agreed.” He held his breath. He didn’t know why, but it mattered to him that she regard him as capable of protecting her. Worthy of it, even. Which was idiotic.