It certainly was. How different their lives would have been. But . . . “It would never have been me.” He tugged on his drawers. “Gentlemen do not seduce young ladies. They court them, they secure their affections, and then they propose.”
A sudden gleam in her eye was all the warning he got before she rose to amble toward him with a most seductive walk. “So you don’t think I could have tempted you to seduce me?”
His throat went dry at the sight of her so rumpled and lovely. “Tempted? Yes.” He pulled her into his arms for a thorough kiss, then drew back to stare into her face. “But I would never have acted upon it.”
Her smile faltered. “Are you quite sure it doesn’t bother you that I . . . am not . . .”
“It doesn’t.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m very happy with my choice of wife.”
She eyed him askance. “Even though I’m reckless and impudent and always getting into trouble?”
“I’ll take you any way I can get you, minx—reckless, impudent, and all.” Even skittish and wary. As long as he could kiss the fear from her from time to time.
A sudden knock at the door made them both jump.
“Milord, milady? Dinner is served.”
“Thank you, John!” he called out. “We’ll be there presently.”
“We can’t go to dinner yet,” she hissed. “I’m naked!”
“And you do look very fetching that way, too.”
With a roll of her eyes, she hurried to don her shirt. Or rather, his old shirt.
He followed her. “We have a choice, minx. We can go to dinner late, with you dressed in breeches and me thinking the entire time how I want to get you out of them. Or we can ask for a tray upstairs and head up to my bedchamber or yours. Either way, we scandalize the servants, so—”
“We might as well go upstairs,” she said in a throaty voice as she approached to place her hand on his bare chest. “I’d rather enjoy seeing how the woman-on-the-top thing works in a bed.”
When she ran her finger down his chest and strolled away, he got dressed so fast, it was a miracle he didn’t injure something. At last, they were having their wedding night. And he didn’t intend to miss one minute.
Twenty-Two
A week later, Clarissa headed to London in the carriage with her husband and wondered where the time had gone. Days of easy camaraderie had bled into nights of passion. No nightmares. No fear. No horrible reminders of the past.
Well, she still couldn’t lie beneath him without panicking, but he didn’t seem to mind that she was always on top. At least she hoped he didn’t mind. She had certainly come to enjoy their way of swiving. She liked arousing him. Making him lose control. Watching him fall apart beneath her. It was wonderful. They were together in every respect, and she’d never dreamed that could happen.
And if sometimes she wished she could try making love the other way, she shoved that from her mind. Because better that they do it the way they did, than not do it at all. It certainly did keep him in a far pleasanter mood than he’d been in during the first week of their marriage.
But not today. Staring over at him now, she could see how withdrawn he was from her, how pensive and subdued. Fortunately, she’d begun to understand that it was his way of dealing with things that worried him. He had to pull into himself to mull things over from every angle.
Still, they were going to their wedding celebration at Vauxhall, and she wasn’t about to spend it with him looking dour and gloomy.
“I cannot wait for the party. It sounds like great fun, don’t you think?”
“Indeed,” he said, staring out the window.
She eyed him askance. He hadn’t been so sanguine about Mama’s plans when she’d come out to Hertfordshire three days ago for final approval. Annoyed that she couldn’t find a balloonist, Mama had hired a female tightrope walker and an acrobat who did tricks with a hoop. After Clarissa had grown tired of fruitlessly trying to rein her mother in, she’d amused herself by cataloguing Edwin’s many attempts to restrain his horror every time Mama mentioned some new excess.
So either he’d had a change of heart since then, or he wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying now. She decided to test her theory. “Mama wrote me yesterday to say that she’d enlisted a snake charmer for the party, too.”
“That’s nice.”
She stifled a laugh. “I told her that a lone snake charmer wouldn’t be enough—we needed at least sixteen to do it properly. Preferably with enormous turbans in puce velvet.”
“Uh-huh. Puce velvet. Right.”
“I told her I was sure you would approve the three thousand pounds it will cost.”
“Yes, that sounds—” His gaze shot to her. “What costs three thousand pounds?”
Of course he’d registered the part about the money. “Mama’s sixteen snake charmers,” she managed to say with a straight face. “For the wedding celebration.”
“What? When did I agree to snake charmers, and why the devil would it cost three thousand—”
She began laughing, and as he realized she’d been bamming him, he threw himself back in his seat with a snort. “Very amusing,” he drawled.
“You should have . . . seen your face . . .” she gasped between giggles, “when it d-dawned on . . . you that . . . Oh, my word!”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you quite finished mocking me?”
With considerable effort, she made a stern face. “Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord. The situation is much too serious for humor, my lord.”
“Now you’re mocking me for complaining about your mocking me,” he grumbled. “Though you must admit that your mother is turning our wedding celebration into a circus performance.”
“I know,” she said soothingly. “And I know you hate it, as do I. But let this be a lesson to you. Never let guilt persuade you to give my mother free rein in anything.”
“I’ll definitely heed that advice in the future.” He stared out the window. “But that’s not what has me concerned. Aren’t you the least bit worried about Durand?”
“I always find it easier to brazen out the things that frighten me than to cower in a corner. It doesn’t always work, but I have to try. He isn’t invited to our grand dinner, and even if he shows up somehow, I can always trust you to protect me.”
His frown softened. “Yes. You can.”
Except that it was Edwin’s family secrets that needed protecting. She wished he’d say what they were, but she could hardly fault him for wanting to keep them close. He saw it as looking after his sister. One day, he’d trust his wife enough to tell her, and when he did, she would try to be as understanding as he’d been about her darkest secret.
“What good would it do Count Durand to cozy up to me now, anyway? I’m married.” She smiled softly at him. “Happily, it seems.”
That finally lightened his mood. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?”
“You see? I never thought that could happen, and now it has. So I have complete confidence that your bluff was successful and Count Durand has been routed at last.”
He smiled. “You, sweetheart, are the eternal optimist. Even after all your troubles, you try to put a good face on things. It’s one of many things I like about you.”
Her good mood evaporated. Like. Not love.
She shouldn’t care that he’d never professed to love her, since she’d never professed to love him. But she did care. Which she didn’t want to examine too closely. “I like that my eternal optimism doesn’t drive you mad,” she said lightly.
“It does, but it’s a pleasant sort of madness.” He glanced out the window. “We’re nearly to Vauxhall, and I haven’t yet given you your present.”
“You got me another present?”
“Something very mundane.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a necklace with a silver leaf pendant with what looked like two jeweled raindrops on it. “For my whimsical wife.”
“That isn’t mundane at all. It’s quite b
eautiful.” Though she was rather surprised it wasn’t another automaton.
When she reached for it, he stopped her. “It has a secret.” He pressed one of the “raindrops” and the leaf pendant fell from the chain into his hands. He pressed the other and a wicked-looking blade shot out of the leaf sheath. “It’s to keep you safe if I’m not around.”
“Oh my.” She took it from him and examined it. “Show me how it works again?”
It took only a few moments of demonstration for her to master opening it and also restoring it to the sheath and the chain.
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.
His heart faltered when he saw them on the other end of the boxes, headed for the exit. There was no sign of Clarissa. Striding over to them, he asked in Italian where his wife was, but when they exchanged looks of alarm and started protesting that they knew nothing, he didn’t waste his time with them. He broke into a run down the path behind the boxes where they’d just been working.
As he neared the end of the first row, he heard Clarissa’s voice. With a relieved sigh, he slowed to a walk. Until her words registered.
“You’re a liar, sir. There’s no way on earth that my husband’s father was a traitor. I don’t care what evidence you claim to have, or what you think you can prove—”
Edwin vaulted around the corner of the box to find his wife facing down Durand. “Get away from my wife,” Edwin growled, quickly putting himself between them.
“I knew you hadn’t told her about the spying,” Durand said with a sneer. “She would never stand for being married to a traitor’s son. So if you’d said anything, the two of you wouldn’t be here pretending that this wedding is a love match.”
“It is a love match!” Clarissa spat from behind Edwin.
That momentarily threw Edwin off guard, even knowing she was just trying to get rid of Durand.
“Really?” Durand said coldly. “Blakeborough is in love with you? Does he know what a little whore you are?”
Fury inflaming him, Edwin caught Durand by the throat and squeezed. “I warned you not to bother my wife. I swear, I’ll kill you right here and now, just for such a vile lie—”
“No, no, no, you can’t!” Clarissa cried, dragging on Edwin’s arm. “Or you will hang for it, and I cannot lose you, too!”
That last remark was the only thing that cut through the red haze in his head. He released Durand, who stumbled back choking and coughing.
After a moment, the bastard growled, “For that, Blakeborough, I challenge you to a duel at dawn. Over your wife’s honor, which I maintain is scanty at best.”
“Don’t listen to him!” Clarissa cried as Edwin bristled again. “Can’t you see he’s goading you? He w
ants to kill you so he can get to me. You must not fight him!”
Durand gave a mocking laugh. “That’s all right, Lady Clarissa, he’s not going to accept. Everyone knows he despises dueling. Most cowards usually do.”
“Ah, but this won’t be a duel,” Edwin said coldly. “It will be justice. For your tormenting my wife, trying to force her into marrying you. For frightening her and plaguing her, for nearly assaulting her, and daring to cast slurs upon her character.”
“Edwin, no,” Clarissa said.
Durand ignored her to stare Edwin down. “Does that mean you accept my challenge?”
“It does. Choose your seconds, and I shall see you at dawn at Green Park. Pistols are my weapon of choice.” He turned to Clarissa. “Come, my dear, we’re leaving now.”
By tomorrow, he meant to be rid of Durand once and for all.
Twenty-Three
Clarissa managed to hold her tongue until their carriage pulled away. Only then did she face him, shoulders set. “You can’t do this.”
“I can and I will. It’s the only way to stop him.”
The hard edge to his voice made her despair. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t. I happen to be very good with a pistol.”
“I’ve no doubt of that. But if you kill him, you will end up accused of murder, forced to flee.”
“Unlike your brother, I need only say that the bastard impugned your honor. No jury will convict an Englishman for defending his wife from a Frenchman.”
“Not just a Frenchman. A French diplomat. With high connections in both governments.”
He dragged in a heavy breath. “It will be difficult for us socially for a while, but . . .”
“. . . not nearly as bad as if your father is revealed to be a traitor. Is that what you’re thinking?”
Edwin released a coarse oath. “I never wanted you to know about that.”
Her heart sank. “So it’s true, then. Your father really was a traitor.”
“It appears he was.” Edwin rubbed the back of his neck. “Durand showed me the reports written in Father’s hand, which were apparently made on Father’s jaunts to a certain private opium-smoking club in London.”
The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 Page 25