Twenty-Five
It was no surprise that Clarissa hadn’t been able to sleep after she saw Edwin and Warren leave the house. She tried, she really did, but she couldn’t stop worrying. She kept waiting for them to return, not sure where they’d even gone, but by 4:00 A.M., she knew it was growing too late for them to get back before the duel began.
Which meant they were probably already on their way to Green Park. Curse them both.
She rose and got dressed, muttering at her cousin the whole time. Hadn’t he been able to stop her husband, his friend? She’d blurted out that she loved Edwin in the vain hope that it would give him pause, but clearly even that couldn’t have an impact on the dratted idiot.
After fretting a while longer, she decided enough was enough. She was not going to let her husband do this insane thing. If she had to, she’d stand between him and Count Durand. Because she didn’t want to lose Edwin. She’d lost enough in her life.
No more.
She went downstairs and roused a servant, then called for her carriage. It came surprisingly quickly. It was only after she’d gone out the door that she realized it wasn’t her carriage waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. She paused, but before she could react, someone stepped behind her and she felt a hard object shoved into her side.
“There you are, my dear,” said the voice she’d grown to loathe. “I knew you couldn’t resist going to the duel.”
Count Durand. Oh, Lord. Her heart jumped into her throat. Damn him, damn him, damn him. “And I knew you would cheat,” she said, fighting for calm. “So we apparently know each other well.”
“Better than you can imagine.” When she caught her breath, he added, “And I wouldn’t scream, if I were you. I’ll shoot you where you stand.” He nudged her with the hard object to make his point.
“You always were a bully.” As she fumbled to release her knife pendant from the chain, her mind raced. She needed to throw him off guard, buy some time until she could get the pistol away from her side long enough to stab him. “You’re like your cousin—always running roughshod over women.”
A long silence followed before he rasped, “Do not speak ill of a man you know nothing about.”
“I know he raped me.” She palmed her pendant. “He held me down and forced himself on me.”
“That’s a lie!” he hissed. “He was my closest friend in the world once. Then you incited your brother with your lies, and like that, he was murdered. I’ve seen you flirt, seen you entice men. I know what kind of woman you are. Why should he bother to rape a whore like you?”
Anger roiled up in her. “Would a whore keep you at arm’s length the entire time you were courting me? No. He was evil and you are just as evil, and I don’t deserve this.”
“Shut up!” he growled. “You have a choice. Get in the carriage. Or die.”
Her blood faltered. “You’ll just kill me anyway.”
“Not if you tell me where your brother is. We’ll go see him together.”
“And you’ll kill us both. No, thank you.” If he would move the pistol long enough for her to jab at him . . . “You know my husband won’t stop until he destroys you.”
Count Durand snorted. “There’s little chance of that.”
Another voice came from the shadows behind the carriage. “There’s more chance than you realize.”
Edwin. Thank heaven!
Catching her about the waist, Count Durand jerked her up close to him. “I’ll kill her, Blakeborough. I swear I will.”
“And then what? You’ll lose your chance at her brother.”
Edwin stepped out of the shadows, and she nearly had heart failure. “He has a gun, my love! Don’t come any nearer!”
Ignoring her, Edwin moved more into the light. “You’re not fool enough to murder a peer’s wife in cold blood, Durand. You’d hang for it.”
“You don’t know a damned thing,” Count Durand hissed. “I don’t care if she dies. I’ll find Margrave somehow. Even if I only wait for him to come after me to revenge his sister.”
“You won’t have to wait for him.” Edwin lifted a hand and she saw a pistol in it. “Kill her and you die. It’s as simple as that.”
That seemed to give Count Durand pause, for she could feel his gun waver against her side. “Or you could let us both leave,” he snarled, “and I’ll allow her to live.”
Clarissa suppressed her snort of disbelief even as she opened the leaf knife. Durand wouldn’t get away with his perfidy if she had anything to say about it. She just needed the right moment.
Edwin’s gaze swung to her and dropped ever so briefly to her hand. He knew what she meant to do. And was ready.
All of a sudden, Count Durand’s coach started driving away.
“What are you doing?” the count shouted at the driver. “Damn you, man, come back!”
In that moment, while his attention was distracted and the gun had left her side, she jabbed up at his pistol arm and fell to the ground without even waiting to see his reaction.
Then Edwin shot him through the heart.
A short while later, Clarissa sat in her drawing room as the household erupted around her. Edwin and Warren, who’d been the one to unseat the driver of Count Durand’s carriage and drive it off, were deep in discussion with Lord Fulkham, who’d just shown up. Footmen and servants were running about following orders occasionally barked at them by Edwin.
There was a dead body on the steps, after all. It had to be dealt with.
All she could do was sit there frozen as she listened to the discussion.
“I’ll take care of this, Blakeborough,” Lord Fulkham was saying. “The man was trying to abduct your wife. By the time I get through with the French ambassador for allowing Durand free rein to torment English citizens, they will be happy to keep the matter quiet. It may not even go to a trial.”
“Even if it does,” Warren said, “your servants are witnesses and we have Durand’s coachman, who will testify to the truth of it if he knows what’s good for him. Or Fulkham can have him charged as an accessory.”
At that moment, Edwin glanced over and saw that she’d begun to tremble. His face paled. With a few words to the others, who instantly left the room, he came to sit beside her. He poured some brandy from the carafe on the table next to the settee and pressed the glass into her hand. “Drink it, sweetheart. It will stop the shaking.”
“You—you’re plying me with s-spirits again,” she feebly tried to joke.
“We’re married now. It’s allowed.”
She lifted the glass to drink and caught sight of her glove. Her red-stained glove. After setting down the glass, she tore her gloves off. “I have Count Durand’s blood on me,” she said, her stomach churning. “It’s probably on my gown and in my hair and—”
“Yes,” he said raggedly.
She looked over to see him crumbling before her eyes, his shoulders shaking, his face contorted as if he fought tears.
“Edwin!”
“If I had lost you . . .” His breath came in fractured gasps as he lifted his tortured face to her. “I couldn’t have borne it.”
“You weren’t going to let that happen.” With her heart in her throat, she cupped his cheek. “As usual, you’re my Saint George slaying the dragon.”
“I love you,” he said baldly.
He— Had she heard that right? “I thought you didn’t believe in love.”
“I didn’t.” His gaze bore into her. “But I was wrong.”
Her breathing grew unsteady. Was this just his reaction to seeing her nearly killed? Fighting to keep the tremor from her voice, she said, “My goodness, that’s the second time you’ve said you’re wrong in a week. Actually, it’s the second time you’ve said it in my lifetime.” She laid her hand on his forehead. “Are you ill? Do you have a fever?”
“I mean it, minx.” Covering her hand, he pulled it to his lips and kissed her palm. “I love you, body and soul. For so long, I’ve lived with a clockwork heart, refusi
ng to feel, because I’d seen what love—or what I thought was love—had done to my parents, and I couldn’t bear to go through that.”
Scarcely daring to breathe, she clutched his hand in both of hers.
“But I was in trouble from the moment Warren talked me into looking out for you. I told myself, ‘Beware, if you let her in, she may destroy you.’ Because deep down, I knew that if anyone could make my clockwork heart bleed, it would be you.”
She swallowed hard, not sure how she liked that.
“Instead,” he said, breaking into a smile, “you made it beat. Hard. With life and joy and, yes, love. You, sweetheart, transformed my clockwork heart into a real one.”
With tears filling her eyes, she said, “Good. Because you deserve better than life with a clockwork heart. And I could never stand for an automaton husband, even one of your exquisite craftsmanship. I much prefer the flesh-and-blood man I’ve fallen in love with.”
He kissed her then with a sweetness that made her heart soar. When they finally pulled apart, dawn was breaking through the window.
“Looks like you were right, last night,” he said as he slid his arm about her shoulders. “Ours is a love match after all.”
She slid her arm about his waist, then leaned up to whisper in his ear, “That was my heart’s desire, so you got it for me. What a clever husband you are.”
And as they laughed together, the sun rose.
Epilogue
Edwin was bent over a table in his workroom, carving a bit of cork, when his wife entered.
“What are you making now? We still have nearly four months until the babe is born. At the rate you’re going, she’ll be able to open her own toy shop.”
Ever since Edwin had heard that Clarissa was with child, he’d launched into creating every clockwork toy he could think of: a trilling nightingale, a dancing bear, a book with letters that sprang up when you opened it, and a mechanical dog that jumped through a hoop held by an acrobat. He had to be ready. This was his firstborn, after all.
He shifted in his chair to look at his lovely wife. God, but she was gorgeous when she was full with his child. Her face glowed and her breasts were even plumper. It was all he could do to remind himself that he must be careful with her. Careful of the babe she carried inside her.
“First of all,” he said, “the ‘she’ will be a ‘he.’ I feel it in my bones.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, and you are nothing if not famous for your ability at predicting the sex of a child.”
Ignoring her, he settled back in the chair. “Secondly, I’m not making these for the baby, but for me.” He held up the two carved pieces of cork, then stuffed them in his ears. “Lately, you’ve been snoring.”
She cocked up one eyebrow and said something he couldn’t hear.
Excellent, they were working. He cupped his hand behind his ear. “What’s that?”
Marching over, she plucked the corks out of his ears and stuffed them into hers. “Thank you for these. Now I don’t have to hear you go on and on about what we need to buy for the baby and make for the baby and arrange for the baby. You’re worse than my mother, I swear.”
She had a point. He and Lady Margrave had surprisingly grown more friendly while plotting the future of his child and her grandchild.
He drew Clarissa between his legs. Reaching up to take out the corks, he said, “I’ll make you a pair, too. You can use them when your mother visits.” He spread his hands over her belly, his blood leaping to feel the subtle movements. “He’s really kicking today, isn’t he?”
“She is dancing. She has to practice making her father laugh.”
“Her mother already does plenty of that.” He kissed Clarissa’s clothed navel, then scattered more kisses up her stomach to her swollen breasts. “Among other things.” He nuzzled her nipple. “We should make love in this room. I’ve imagined it so many times.”
She looked scandalized. “In your workroom? Truly?”
“In every room in the house. Long before you married me, too.”
“I don’t believe you.”
With a sly smile, he rose and took her hand. “Come with me.”
He took her through the house to the conservatory, where he nodded to the dais by the window. “I’ve pictured you lying there naked, bathed in sunlight, while I take you.”
Reveling in her blush, he led her through the halls into the music room. “The possibility of sitting on that pianoforte bench while you rode me has seen me through many a dull recital.”
She gaped at him. “Not Yvette’s, I hope.”
“Good God, no. But yours, for certain.”
“Are you saying that my playing bores you?”
“I’m saying that it always provided a fitting backdrop for my fantasy.”
Raking her with a long, slow glance for emphasis, he laughed when she said, “Oh, Lord, now I’ll never be able to look you in the eye when I’m playing for guests.”
“Shall I go on?” he asked.
A look of challenge crossed her face. “I’ll bet there’s one room you haven’t imagined making love to me in. The kitchen.”
“Are you mad? Of course I’ve pictured you there, splayed on the table to provide me with a delicious feast.” When she looked surprised, he said, “Mind you, we could never serve food from there again if I acted on it, but God knows I’ve imagined it.”
She looped her arms about his neck. “When I married you, Lord Blakeborough, I had no idea you were such a naughty man.”
“Obviously, or you wouldn’t have assumed I could wait a bloody year to bed you.”
Remorse tinged her cheeks pink. “What if it really had been a year? Would you have complied with my terms?”
“Of course. But you wouldn’t have lasted that long. You’re too much of a naughty woman for that. And I was too bent on seducing you.”
She got that melting look in her eyes that never failed to enrapture him, and he was on the verge of dragging her into his arms and ravishing her, when a voice came from the door. “I hope we’re not interrupting.”
Edwin cursed inwardly . . . and then realized that the voice was vaguely familiar. No—it couldn’t be.
But it could. “Niall?” Clarissa said, turning for the door. “Niall!”
She broke away from Edwin and ran to hug her brother. The man Edwin had remembered as being tall and gangly had filled out into quite a stalwart fellow. His hair was darker than Clarissa’s—more like sun-streaked bronze—but his expression was hard. Clearly his sojourn on the Continent had changed him.
Behind him stood Warren, who watched the siblings with a smile.
“What on earth are you doing here?” Clarissa asked. “Did you sneak into England?” She shook him. “You cannot be here—you’re a fugitive. They could hang you!”
“Doubtful,” Warren said as he glanced beyond Niall to Edwin. “After all the trouble Fulkham and I took to get him back legally, it wouldn’t make sense for the government to turn around and hang him. And I would be most annoyed.”
“So would I,” Niall said dryly. “I don’t fancy having a rope for a cravat.”
She whirled on Edwin. “Did you know about this?”
“Are you mad?” Warren put in. “Edwin would have told you at once. Which is why we didn’t tell him. We weren’t sure if it would work out, and we didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”
Edwin stepped next to her to slide his arm about her waist, feeling oddly protective. “So exactly how did you get it to work out?” he asked the two others.
“As it happens,” his brother-in-law said, “Durand was already becoming a problem for both the French and the English—making rash diplomatic decisions, squirreling away documents that were supposed to be destroyed, breaking agreements that had long been held. The attempt to blackmail you was the last straw. So Fulkham convinced his superiors that without my involvement, the man would never have been routed, and his attempts to ‘unveil’ a peer as a spy would have ended in disaster.”
>
“In other words,” Warren put in, “Niall got a royal pardon. And it didn’t hurt that after Prinny’s death, our new king was eager to issue a few royal pardons as part of his ascension to the throne. One of those went to Niall.”
“Without having to reveal any of your past, dear girl,” Niall added.
With a sniff, she patted her belly. “Clearly, I am not a ‘girl.’”
Niall laughed. “No, clearly not.” He sobered as his gaze met Edwin’s. “And if your new husband doesn’t take care of you, I shall challenge him to a duel.”
“Don’t worry,” Edwin said solemnly. “I would go to the ends of the earth for her.”
The serious statement brought the other two men up short. Then Niall glanced at Warren. “I can’t believe it, but you were right. He is in love.”
Clarissa slid her arm about Edwin’s waist. “Of course he is. I have that effect on men.”
The flippantly spoken words lightened the mood, as his wife had no doubt intended.
With a genial smile, Niall said, “I do hope we got here in time for dinner. I’m famished.”
“Yes, dinner will be served shortly.” Clarissa turned to her cousin. “Warren, are you staying?”
He shook his head. “I must return to London. Something has come up. But you and Niall enjoy your reunion. I’ll see you in a few weeks at the party at Keane’s.”
“All right.” She kissed her cousin, then turned to Niall. “Go on to the dining room. I need a quick word with my husband.”
Niall looked a bit taken aback by her bossiness, but then, he hadn’t seen her in seven years. He didn’t know the Clarissa whom Edwin knew and adored. The Clarissa who’d changed his life. Who’d made him whole.
Who’d proved that he did believe in love, after all.
Niall departed for the dining room, leaving the couple alone together.
Clarissa turned to Edwin with a sultry smile. “So, to return to our earlier conversation, would you like to know what room I’ve imagined making love in?”
That got his attention instantly. “Damned right I would.”
The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 Page 28