It took some moments for the theatergoers to quiet down enough so she could speak. Then, in her carrying tones, she began her introductory speech:
Noble and gentle—matrons—patrons—friends!
Before you here a venturous woman bends!
A warrior woman—that in strife embarks,
The first of all dramatic Joan of Arcs.
Cheer on the enterprise thus dared by me!
The first that ever led a company.
Clarissa leaned up to whisper, “It’s true, you know. I read in the paper that she’s the first Englishwoman to ever manage a theater. And look what a great success it is!”
“For tonight, anyway. She still has a hard path ahead of her.”
“But you believe in her, don’t you? You invested in her concern.”
He smiled. “I’ve known her a long time, actually. Her father, a dealer in art and other goods, supplied mine with most of his automatons. And me, as well, before he died. She and I have been friends since childhood.”
“Friends?” She bumped her arm with his. “You neglected to tell me that you knew her personally! Heavens, what other secrets are you keeping?”
None that he would tell her. “I have a fondness for women in breeches,” he said lightly. “But you unearthed that secret already.”
“Do be serious. How well do you know Madame Vestris? What is she like?” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, she’s famous for her breeches parts—is that why you want me to wear breeches? Because you have some sort of . . . infatuation with her?”
“Shhh!” Lady Margrave hissed. “I can’t hear her speech! And everyone is sure to be talking about it tomorrow.”
“We’ll finish this discussion later,” Clarissa said under her breath.
They certainly would. After Clarissa had cautioned him about Miss Trevor and questioned him about Lucia, he had to wonder—could she really be jealous? It seemed impossible, but the signs were growing too strong to ignore.
Not that he wanted her to be jealous. Truly, he did not. But at least it put in a better light his own unsettling reactions to seeing men court her.
Of course, the cause of his behavior was a protective instinct, nothing more. Not jealousy.
Liar.
While that annoying word rang in his thoughts, the first piece of the four-part program began, a burlesque that showed the gods Hercules, Jupiter, Neptune, and Plutus singing a comic song while playing whist.
Musical or operatic parody wasn’t his favorite form of entertainment, but clearly it was hers. He soon found himself watching her half the time and not the production. Because Clarissa even threw herself into being a spectator. She laughed, she frowned, she made droll commentaries on everything.
He’d never seen anyone get so much pleasure from a simple theater performance. While her mother was busy waving to other patrons, whispering in her daughter’s ear, and looking for the opera glasses she’d dropped, Clarissa sat rapt, an incandescent joy on her face as she watched what happened on the stage. He only wished he could capture that expression.
By the time the intermezzo came, he was almost loath to see the first piece end. But he had little chance to ask her opinion of the performance before the box door burst open, and they were swamped with visitors.
Unsurprisingly, none of them were there for him. A few of Lady Margrave’s cronies wanted to compare notes with the dowager countess, but most of the visitors were young heirs of titled gentlemen who’d come to flirt with Clarissa. So Edwin stood back and observed the scene, hoping to learn which of their tactics garnered the best response from her.
He told himself he only wanted to see what he could use in courting other women. But the truth was more complicated. He wanted to figure Clarissa out. She was like one of those intricate clockwork beauties at Meeks’s Mechanical Museum. He just had to know what made her tick.
Not that he could tell. She treated the young gentlemen like gamboling pups for her to tease and toy with, but never let too close.
Was that her game? To draw men in, then keep them away? Had she been playing that game with him the other night? Or was it something about all men that kept her on her guard?
Just as he felt he was circling some great discovery about her character, Major Wilkins showed up to join her group of fawning admirers.
Devil take it. After Clarissa had mentioned the man’s “ogling” her breasts, Edwin had asked the members at St. George’s some discreet questions about Wilkins. According to them, as the youngest son of a nearly penniless duke, he was the slyest form of fortune hunter, hiding his poverty behind his title. His father had sired a passel of sons, which meant there was little money left for the youngest. Which was probably why Wilkins had his eye on Clarissa and her fortune.
“That is a most fetching gown, Lady Clarissa.” The arse’s gaze dipped down, and Edwin felt an unreasonable urge to pummel the man.
Especially when Clarissa snapped open her fan and began to flutter it, effectively hiding her bosom from the major’s gaze.
“As always, Lady Clarissa has very good taste,” Edwin said coldly.
“She does indeed,” Wilkins said with a bit of a leer.
That did it. Time to use what else he’d learned about the bastard. “So, sir,” Edwin said bluntly, “is it true that you were recently asked to leave your regiment?”
“Oh, Lord,” Clarissa muttered.
The major flushed. “It wasn’t as simple as all that.”
“It sounded simple to me. I heard you were caught in behavior unbecoming a gentleman. Something about your trying to elope with a general’s daughter?”
As the pups sat there snickering, Wilkins drew himself up. “That is a scandalous lie!”
Edwin’s gaze narrowed. “Are you calling me a liar, sir?”
Wilkins looked suddenly as if he’d rather be anywhere but there. “No. I’m merely saying you’ve been misinformed.”
“Deuce take it, someone has been misinforming people again,” one of the pups chimed in. “You’d best nip that in the bud, Wilkins. Your father might hear of it and cut you off.”
“I heard he’s already done that,” one of his compatriots said. “But perhaps I was misinformed.”
The pups erupted into laughter, which the major didn’t apparently find the least amusing, for he glowered at them all.
Gathering his wounded dignity about him, he nodded to Clarissa. “I believe I shall return when you aren’t so plagued with visitors, madam.” Then he shot Edwin a daggered glance before leaving the box.
The pups continued their fun after he was gone. “He’s headed off to find that dastardly misinformer.”
“I thought he was a scandalous liar?”
“Clearly he’s neither, since the ‘lie’ sent the major off with his tail between his legs. What is that saying about fire and smoke?”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire?”
“No, where there’s smoking, there’s fire, and the major was smoking, to be sure.”
“You see what you started?” Clarissa complained to Edwin.
“Don’t blame me if your friends are idiots,” he shot back.
“Hey!” one of the pups said in mock outrage. “I am not an idiot. I am a fool.”
“At least you’re not a misinformer,” another said, and they split their sides laughing.
“Oh, you gentlemen are too awful,” Lady Margrave said, tittering along with them, as did her cronies. “The poor major. And he does have such a fondness for my daughter, too.”
“A fondness for her fortune, you mean,” Edwin said sharply, not in the mood to endure Lady Margrave’s lack of perception.
Clarissa lifted an eyebrow. “I do hope you’re not implying that my only attractions are my fortune, Edwin.”
“If he is, he’s blind,” chirped a pup lounging against the wall. “You’re the jewel in England’s crown, Lady Clarissa, with eyes of emeralds and ruby lips and hair of spun gold.”
“Jewels? Gold?” she said
tartly. “Sounds as if you still have my wealth in mind, sir.”
The young man blinked. “I only meant—”
“She knows what you meant.” Edwin met her gaze, which he found more the quality of warm, rich jade than cold emeralds. “And she knows perfectly well what I meant, too. She’s just toying with us both.”
She smiled sweetly. “Am I, indeed? Do I detect a note of criticism?”
“You do not. I’m merely making an observation.”
Her smile broadened as she moved up next to him. “Take care, sir. With each of your ‘observations’ about me, you slide closer to criticism.”
Lowering his voice, he stared down into her lovely face. “You will not win this wager.”
“Ah, but I will.” She tapped his chest with her fan, provoking a slow, steady simmer in his blood. “You can no more stop taking me to task than you can stop breathing.”
“It’s better than turning you into a pile of jewels.”
He and Clarissa were close enough to kiss, to embrace, to behave in the most wildly inappropriate manner. He could smell her cinnamon-scented breath, see the taunting tilt of her smile. The others disappeared for him, and all he could think was how badly he wanted to seize her and kiss that impudent mouth over and over until he’d broken through to the real Clarissa, whoever that might be.
Her smile faltered a little, and a dark awareness flickered in her eyes, as if she’d read his thoughts and guessed exactly all the ways he wanted to taste and caress and plunder her.
Then a feminine voice sounded from the doorway. “Are we interrupting anything?”
Clarissa started, then glanced over and renewed her smile. “Do come in, Lady Anne. How good to see you.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” the young lady said, “but I brought a friend with me.”
“Of course I don’t . . .”
As her words died, Edwin saw a change come over Clarissa. When she began to flutter her fan in front of her bosom again and her posture stiffened until she looked like a deer poising for flight, the simmer in his blood cooled to ice.
Edwin turned to find Durand standing there with Lady Anne.
Bloody, bloody hell.
Nine
Clarissa’s stomach churned as Count Durand raked her with a slow, wolfish glance. Edwin must have seen it, for she heard him mutter an oath and felt him start forward.
Catching his arm, she said under her breath, “Not now. Not here.”
He stopped, thank heaven, though she could feel the barely leashed tension in his muscles even through his coat sleeve.
She forced herself to speak again. “I trust that you’re enjoying the burlesque, Lady Anne?” She refused to address that blackguard Durand directly.
“It’s very silly but I love it!” Tonight Lady Anne wore one of her more outrageous hats, which was sillier than anything Madame Vestris could have come up with for the stage. “The count’s box is only a short way down from yours, so we thought we’d come see what you thought of it.”
“I take it that you and the count are well-acquainted,” Edwin said to Lady Anne, his hard voice as much a mockery of civility as Clarissa’s smile.
“We were introduced only this afternoon,” the count answered for her, “but of course I invited the lovely lady and her mother to join me in my box this evening.” He patted her hand. “How could I resist?”
Lady Anne blushed a bright pink. “Oh, you are such a flatterer, sir.”
He flashed that sly smile that Clarissa had grown to loathe. Unfortunately, when he did it, his eyes were fixed on her, not Lady Anne.
Then he approached Clarissa’s mother, who rose with a rustle of taffeta skirts. “Lady Margrave, enchanted to see you again. You’re looking very well.”
Mama had been impressed with Durand in the beginning, until she’d started noticing how much he upset Clarissa. After that she’d always taken her cue on how to treat him from Clarissa.
But tonight she was behaving oddly, even for her, with an almost unnatural friendliness. “Why, thank you, Count Durand, that is very kind of you to say. I’m feeling particularly strong this evening. Haven’t needed my salts once.”
Then she cast a knowing look at Edwin, and Clarissa realized what she was about—she’d fixed her sights on the earl as a husband for Clarissa, and she meant to use Durand as a weapon in that endeavor.
“That’s good to hear.” The count swept the room with a look, then said, in a voice loud enough to carry at least to the boxes on either side, “I suppose you’re excited about your daughter’s recent betrothal to Lord Blakeborough.”
Silence descended upon the box, and every eye turned to Clarissa and Edwin. As her mother’s mouth dropped open, Clarissa froze. How dared he? She was going to kill him!
This time she was the one to start forward, and Edwin was the one to grip her hand where it clutched his arm. “Not now, not here,” he murmured, echoing her own words.
It was clear from Durand’s expression that he hadn’t believed the lie Clarissa and Edwin had told him. So he meant to corner them, to force them to either confirm his suspicion or admit publicly to an engagement.
If they didn’t admit it, he would be back to hounding her everywhere. But if they did, Edwin . . .
“Engaged?” her mother squeaked as she recovered her wits. She rounded on Clarissa and Edwin. “You’re engaged, my dears? How fabulous! I knew it would come—I knew it!” She limped up to Clarissa. “What did Edwin say? What did you say? How did it come about? Oh, do tell me everything!”
“You didn’t know about the betrothal, Lady Margrave?” Durand asked, with a veiled glance at Clarissa.
“Of course not.” Mama tipped her head to one side. “It just happened, didn’t it?”
As Clarissa stood there in a panic, Edwin stepped into the breach. “Not exactly. Forgive us, but we were waiting until Warren’s return to ask for his blessing at the same time we asked for your permission.” His voice sharpened. “Count Durand knew this, but apparently couldn’t abide by our wish that he keep silent on the subject.”
A small frown appeared on Mama’s brow. “Exactly how long have you had an understanding? And why would you tell Count Durand, but not me?”
“We didn’t tell him. He discovered it by accident.” Edwin leveled Durand with a cold glance. “And now he means to embarrass us with it, presumably out of a fit of pique over Clarissa’s rejection of his own proposal of marriage.”
For once, Clarissa was glad of his bluntness. Even though an audible gasp came from their guests, who looked scandalized by the public exposure of Count Durand’s motives, the angry flush rising up the Frenchman’s neck made her want to kiss Edwin.
Take that, Count. Perhaps next time you’ll think twice before confronting me and Edwin.
Although she did feel sorry for poor Lady Anne, who paled as she apparently realized that the count had merely used her to get admitted to Clarissa’s box.
“Edwin, for shame,” Mama said with a tsking noise. “I agree that the man shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but there’s no need for you to lord it over him because you gained my daughter’s hand and he did not.”
If Clarissa weren’t still furious at the Frenchman, she would have laughed at his scowl in response to Mama’s words.
“They’ve been engaged for nearly a week,” Count Durand bit out, clearly determined to keep stirring up trouble. “I can’t imagine why your daughter wouldn’t at least mention it to you, madam.”
But it had finally sunk in with Mama that Clarissa would be marrying at last, and the man’s insinuations couldn’t ruin that for her. “A week, you say? Well.” She patted Clarissa’s shoulder. “I do wish you’d told me sooner, my dear, for we could have started the wedding preparations that much earlier. But no matter. Have you talked about when to marry? Where?”
“Mama,” Clarissa said, “let us discuss this later, if you please.”
“Why? We’ve no time to waste. We must start thinking about it all.” She
began to muse aloud. “You could marry in St. Paul’s Cathedral. But it would have to be in summer, for the cathedral is very damp, even in spring. Or perhaps St. James’s? No, too small.” She turned to her friends. “What do you think? She could marry from home, but I would prefer a London wedding.”
Mama’s friends agreed with her, of course. A London wedding in a prominent church would be the height of fashion.
In the meantime, the rest of their guests were whispering about Clarissa and Edwin and their secret engagement. Her stomach roiled. By the time she and Edwin left the theater, everyone in the place would have heard of it.
And all thanks to the meddling Count Durand. The next time the man’s back was turned, she was liable to push him right off the balcony!
But she dared not let him see her true feelings. Given how intently he watched her, he was waiting for her to explode, waiting for her to give something away. She would not give him the satisfaction.
“Oh, well,” she said as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “It’s probably a blessing in disguise that the count revealed our secret.” With a syrupy smile, she stared adoringly up at Edwin. “It has been so hard to hide it from everyone, has it not?”
Edwin gazed down at her, his expression bland. “Yes, very hard.”
“And now we don’t have to.” She forced a smile to her lips for the count’s benefit. “Thank you for that, sir.”
Count Durand’s eyes narrowed on them both. Ha! If he thought she was going to fall into hysterics because of his machinations, he was daft.
Fortunately, the music started up just then. “The next piece is beginning,” she said brightly. “You’d all better hurry back to your boxes, or you’ll miss it.” She couldn’t wait to be rid of the count, so she could talk to Edwin alone.
The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 Page 10