The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(9)

But Clarissa did tend to inspire the idiotic in him.

She finally nodded. “We’re agreed.”





Three


Clarissa did enjoy a lively ball. And it was probably good that this was her first engagement with Edwin since they’d come to an agreement two days ago. Nothing taxed the earl’s patience like a crowded ballroom. So if he made it through this without growling at everyone—and her—then she could trust his word that he would allow her to enjoy the Season.

As she danced with a young major who happened to be a duke’s son, she scanned the room for Count Durand. So far she hadn’t seen the Frenchman, but that didn’t exactly steady her nerves. He might be in the card room. Or watching her slyly from the gallery. That would be just his style.

“Wishing for a better partner, Lady Clarissa?” Major Wilkins asked peevishly.

Forcing her attention back to the fellow, she gave him her best flirtatious smile. “Certainly not. Hoping to avoid a bad one later.”

He brightened, clearly sensing an opportunity to be of gentlemanly service to her. “Anyone in particular?”

As they briefly parted in the dance, she considered telling him the truth. It couldn’t hurt to have a spy in society warning her of when the Frenchman was about. “Count Durand, actually. Have you seen him here this evening?”

“No. I don’t believe he’s in attendance. Demmed Frenchman knows better than to brave a ballroom full of English officers with long memories.”

Since her companion couldn’t have been a day over ten when the war ended, she had to stifle a laugh. “Oh, Major, I’m sure you’re right. He wouldn’t dare risk a confrontation with a fierce fellow like you.”

The officer preened a bit as he bent closer than was proper. “If he did, I would defend your honor most vigorously.”

She inched back. “How gallant of you!” But she didn’t believe a word. For peacetime soldiers like Major Wilkins, a dagger was more a fashionable accessory than a weapon.

As they parted in the dance again, her eyes strayed to where Edwin stood across the room with her mother, his expression deceptively bland. Now there was a man who could use a dagger to good effect if necessary. Though she doubted he carried one. No doubt Edwin abhorred violence. Brawling in public wasn’t correct, after all.

The officer followed the direction of her gaze. “Is that the Earl of Blakeborough?”

“In the flesh.”

“I didn’t think he liked to go into society. They say he’s rather a dull sort.”

Edwin was a lot of things, but “dull” wasn’t one of them.

She and the major swung about the alternate couple, and when they were in line again, she said, “The earl is looking for a wife.” She felt a perverse need to defend him. “Nothing unusual in that.”

“Then he should dance. How better to get to know a woman?” Major Wilkins’s gaze dropped to her bosom and stuck as he made his chassé to the right. “And women prefer a man who can show a good leg.”

After their chassé to the left, Clarissa trod on the toes attached to his “good leg,” jerking his attention back to her face.

She smiled thinly. “And here I thought that women prefer a man who can show good manners. Silly me.”

The insult went right past him. “I should hope a gentleman can show both.”

“Indeed. Let me know when you intend to start.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing.” Thank heaven the dance was ending, and she could escape. Even Mama’s nattering was preferable to this puffed-up partridge’s lewd behavior.

They bowed to each other, and he led her toward her companions. As they approached, Edwin watched her with an enigmatic stare. He continued to do so as greetings were exchanged and she waited for the major to move on to the next pair of bosoms.

But the officer lingered to chat. Wonderful. Now she had to make polite conversation. And clearly Edwin, who now stoically drank his champagne, wouldn’t be any help at all.

Fortunately, Mama was always willing to step in. “So, Major Wilkins, you’re the Duke of Hastings’s youngest, are you not?”

He nodded stiffly. Clearly he didn’t like being reminded that he was at the bottom rung of his lofty lineage.

“And are you married?” her mother prodded.

He must not have minded that question so much, for he slid a sly glance at Clarissa. “Unfortunately, no, ma’am. Though I’m not averse to the idea.”

“I should hope not,” Mama said. “An officer of your consequence requires a wife, preferably a pretty one to move him forward in society.”

“Yes,” Edwin muttered, “a pretty one is always preferable to one with sense.”

Clarissa couldn’t resist poking the bear. “Don’t you think it possible for a woman to have both?”

Edwin shrugged. “Possible? Yes. Usual in our circles? No.”

“Then you must consider me a most unusual woman. Or else you think me either ugly or dim-witted.”

“You know that I think you neither one.” Edwin’s gaze locked with hers. “And this is starting to feel distinctly like a trap.”

“A trap of your own making,” she quipped. “I wasn’t the one to say that beauty in a woman is preferable to brains.”