The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(84)

Once she had it back in its original form, he closed her fingers around it. “Wear it or put it wherever you won’t lose it. And I’ll be much less worried about you.”

A lump caught in her throat. “Thank you, I shall wear it.” Staring into his eyes, she hung it about her neck. “Close to my heart.”

He gazed into her face with such intensity that it started her pulse thundering. Then the carriage drew to a halt and the door swung open.

“It’s about time you got here!” cried her mother, leaning heavily on her cane. “Everyone is waiting for you.”

They stepped out to loud applause. Clarissa scanned the crowd, but saw no signs of Durand, thank God.

It was a good thing, because she needed all her strength for enduring the results of Mama’s extravagance. The fete began with a rousing orchestral piece and got more dramatic from there—with acrobats, dancing, massive bowls of negus, and enormous platters of suckling pig and roast game cock.

It went on for hours, ending with a pyrotechnical display that nearly rivaled those done for the king’s birthday.

Mama would either become a laughingstock in society because of it, or everyone would dismiss her eccentricities as they always did because she had such an amiable nature.

Through it all, Edwin miraculously maintained his composure. Clarissa wasn’t sure if that was to please her, or because he spent the entire affair watching the crowd for Count Durand. So she was rather relieved when one of his club members engaged him in a discussion of how the pyrotechnics had been done, and she didn’t have to worry about him so much.

Mama, however, was another matter. Leaning on a servant’s arm, she came up to where Clarissa was standing. “There you are. We have a problem.”

Those words had already been spoken half a dozen times this evening, and it always fell to Clarissa to solve those problems because Mama had such difficulty getting around.

“What is it this time?” She was tired and ready to leave.

“Those foreign pyrotechnical fellows are complaining about something in Italian. I think it has to do with what I paid them, but I’m not sure.”

Mama gestured toward where the men were packing up their equipment behind the rows of boxes. Clarissa could just see them through the passage between the two closest sets of boxes overlooking the orchestra stage.

“My Italian isn’t nearly as good as yours, so could you take care of it?” Mama laid the back of her hand dramatically on her forehead. “I swear, if I have to deal with one more matter or walk one more step, I shall collapse right here.”

Clarissa stifled her irritation. “I’ll handle it, Mama.” Given how bad her mother’s Italian really was, the men could be saying something as inconsequential as “We need a glass of water.”

She strode off toward the Italians, but as she passed between the two sets of boxes, a man stepped into her path. “I need to talk to you.”

Her heart sank. Count Durand! When she glanced over at the workmen, only to find that they’d melted into the night, she realized the count had planned this. He’d watched her deal with things for Mama all evening, and had been biding his time until he could create a reason for her to go off alone.

A quick glance behind her showed that in the passage, she was hidden from Edwin’s sight. She was not going to let this happen. Turning swiftly on her heel, she started back, but the Frenchman called after her, “Do you want me to expose your husband’s secrets to the world, simply because you won’t allow me a moment of your time?”

She halted. Edwin’s secrets. Drat it. She reached up to release the leaf from the chain, then palmed it and turned to face him. “Very well. Say what you have to say.”

“If you’ll just come this way—”

“No. You say it here, or not at all.”

That gave him pause. “Aren’t you worried that someone might hear us talking about your precious husband’s secrets?”

“No, because that will put an end to your blackmail.”

“And your husband will land in gaol.”

She dragged in a harsh breath. “There’s no way on earth that my husband has ever done anything to land him in gaol. That is absurd.”

When she started to turn away again, he said hastily, “No, but his father did. And I can easily make it seem as if your husband was part of it.”

She froze. Drat Edwin and his secrets. She didn’t even know how many of the count’s claims were true. “What could his father possibly have done that would implicate Edwin?”

“He spied for the French during the war. And if you don’t go with me now, I’ll make sure the world sees the evidence.”

“What evidence? I can’t imagine you have any.”

“I have his father’s reports. And I can frame it so it looks as if Blakeborough helped him. But even if I don’t succeed in proving that, there will be enough outrage to ensure that you, and he, and your respective families will never be able to raise your heads in good society again.”

Edwin hurried up to Lady Margrave, who had just collapsed onto a bench. “Where’s Clarissa? I can’t find her.” He’d turned away for only a moment, and his wife was gone. What the devil?

“She went to deal with those Italian pyrotechnic fellows,” Lady Margrave said with a wave in the direction they’d been earlier. They weren’t there.