The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(89)

“So he’s trying to find Niall and hoping to use Clarissa to do it,” Edwin mused aloud. “I assume he wants revenge for his cousin’s death. But why now? If it was so important to him, why not seek revenge seven years ago, right after the duel?”

Warren set down his empty glass. “I wondered that, too. Niall said Clarissa’s father had made some deal with Whiting’s mother that she wouldn’t—”

“—speak of the matter,” Edwin finished, impatiently. “Yes, we know that.”

“So Niall assumes she broke her silence,” Warren said. “He’s just not sure why.”

“Probably because she was dying,” Clarissa said in a small voice. “She died of a lingering illness last year. I saw it in the papers. And if Durand had been anywhere around her at the time, if she were using laudanum or if she were even delirious—”

“She may have said something,” Edwin put in. “And that sparked this whole thing. Having a relation die in an honorable duel over some anonymous soiled dove is one thing.” His voice hardened. “But when the duel is with a respectable woman’s brother, and the relation’s offer to marry her was refused, the man might suspect something more nefarious was at work.” He glanced at Warren. “When did Durand return to England as a member of the ambassador’s staff?”

“Last summer.”

Clarissa caught her breath. “Mrs. Whiting died last autumn.” Her gaze flew to Edwin. “That’s why Count Durand called me a whore tonight. It wasn’t to goad you. It was because he knows everything, has always known everything. And he probably blames me for his cousin’s death.”

“That damned arse,” Edwin growled. “If he’d had the tale from Whiting’s ailing mother, she would never have admitted that his precious cousin was a rapist. There’s no telling how she would have cast the tale in her final hours. Or if she might have demanded that he seek justice for the family.”

“Wait a minute,” Warren asked Clarissa, “Durand called you a whore? I will beat him within an inch of his life!”

“No need,” Clarissa said dryly. “Your fool of a friend there challenged him to a duel for it.”

Warren blinked. “Damn.” He stared at Edwin. “Are you mad?”

“You were just talking about beating him yourself,” Edwin shot back. “I’m defending my wife’s honor!”

“Yes, but a duel . . .” Warren said. “You don’t even believe in duels.”

Edwin crossed his arms over his chest. “A man can alter his opinions.”

“And a man can be stubborn to a fault,” Clarissa replied.

“Nothing has changed,” Edwin told her.

“Everything has changed! Since this isn’t about Durand’s wild obsession with me, he’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants—the information about where to find my brother.”

“And possibly,” Warren put in, “the chance to humiliate Clarissa by telling the world what happened.”

“He could have done that long ago if that’s what he intended,” Edwin pointed out.

“Yes, but then he would have lost his chance to find Niall,” Warren said. “He wants them both—her ruined and Niall charged with murder.”

“And if he’s anything like Whiting,” Clarissa said, “he will break every rule—even cheat at a duel—to get rid of his opposition, who happens to be you. And he’ll get away with it because of his position! Then who will keep him from dragging your family through the mud? If he reveals your father’s activities—”

“What activities?” Warren asked.

“All the more reason to kill him,” Edwin said coldly, feeling beleaguered on all fronts. “Then he can’t hurt anyone.”

“Only if you win!” she cried.

When Edwin bristled at that, Warren said hastily, “Even if you don’t, there would be repercussions, old boy. You can’t kill a highly placed French diplomat, even in a duel over your wife’s honor, without comment. You ought to go to his superiors.”

“What superiors?” Edwin spat. “He is the most senior member at the French embassy right now! And there’s no time to go through channels.”

“Unless you refuse to fight him,” Clarissa said stoutly. “You’ve bluffed him before and it worked. Just do it again. Tell him to go to the devil.”

“And what happens to you when he has me dragged before the courts on trumped-up charges of treason?” Edwin countered.

“Hold on, now,” Warren said, “what’s all this about treason?”

Clarissa ignored him. “You could consult with your friends at the club, talk to Warren’s friends, gather some help and advice before you go waltzing off to die! But you simply won’t.”

“Because I refuse to embroil a bunch of friends and strangers in my private affairs. And certainly not in the private affairs of my wife!”

“Do not claim you’re doing this for me, Edwin Blakeborough! I’ve argued myself hoarse begging you not to fight Count Durand, and you’ve ignored me. You’re doing this for yourself. For your sense of justice and right, for your belief that a man should risk his own life to protect the reputation of a woman.”