Page 49 of The Danger of Desire
Hewouldleave. To hell with the mystery of the tattooed lord. He was done trying to protect a woman who didn’t even want his help.
A few moments later, a servant showed him into Edwin’s large drawing room, which was a scene of absolute chaos. Eligible young ladies chattered as they pawed through large boxes, eligible young bachelors laughed and measured each other—measured each other?—while Edwin’s brother-in-law, the artist Jeremy Keane, set up an easel.
Warren hunted the room for Delia and spotted her with her sister-in-law, the two of them holding up what looked like togas. No longer wearing mourning, Mrs. Trevor was more beautiful than ever, but it was Delia who drew his attention.
She wore another horror of a gown—something that combined sprigged pink muslin with orange ribbons and enormous sleeves—yet all he could see was the animation in her lovely features as she laughed at something Mrs. Trevor had said.
His chest tightened. It must be dyspepsia from his dinner. What else could it be?
Determinedly, Warren turned his attention away from the two ladies to see Clarissa dictating instructions to a footman. He headed toward her.
“What’s all this?” he asked as he approached.
Breaking into a smile, she sent the servant off and approached to greet him with a kiss on the cheek. “You came! I thought you weren’t going to.” She drew back to look him over. “I would chide you for missing dinner, but I’m just so glad you’re here.”
“And what exactly am I herefor?” He surveyed the room. “Wait, don’t tell me. You and your guests are running off to join the circus.”
She cast him a mock frown. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Taking acting roles at the Olympic Theatre? Planning to overthrow the government and reinstitute Roman rule? Starting a toga shop to be operated out of Stoke Towers? Edwin won’t like that one bit.”
“Would you stop your nonsense and let me explain?”
“By all means, explain. If you can.”
“It was actually Delia’s idea.”
Ofcourseit was. “What has the chit done now?”
Clarissa sharpened her gaze on him, and he realized what he’d said. For all Clarissa knew, the last time he’d seen Delia was when he’d danced with her at the breakfast.
He hurried to cover his slip. “Youdoseem to think she’s in some sort of trouble.”
“Is that why you paid a call on her a few days ago and convinced her to attend my house party?” Clarissa’s voice held a certain glee. “Yes, I heard all about it from Lady Pensworth. All the interesting little things you said to persuade my friend that youwantedher to go.”
Damn. “You asked me to keep an eye on her.”
“How very... diligent of you, considering that I had to twist your arm to do so in the first place. You said that you would only do it if I allowed you to beg off this party. And now you’re here to look in on Delia?”
Uh-oh. “I’m here to seeyou, of course. I missed you in London.”
“I’ve been gone two days,” she said archly, clearly not the least convinced.
So he changed the subject. “Are you going to tell me what all this is about or not?”
“All right.” Sparing him an assessing glance, she turned to gaze out over the room. “As soon as the Trevors and their aunt sent their acceptance, I invited them to come up earlier than the others today so we could visit a bit before the rest of the guests arrived. So while we were talking this morning, Delia suggested that it might be fun to have Jeremy do a sketch of the house party guests. She said we could even wear costumes for it, if we had them. I loved that idea, so we started chatting about it, and eventually we decided on a Roman theme.”
He stifled his snort. “Wedecided? You and Miss Trevor?”
“And Mrs. Trevor, who is a perfectly lovely woman. Did you know that she wants to try her hand at china designs for Wedgwood? Jeremy thought that was a fine—”
“Clarissa!” he said sharply. “The costumes?”
She sniffed. “Anyway, that was part of the reason we girls decided on Roman attire, since, as Delia pointed out, it would give Mrs. Trevor a chance to sketch some scenes herself. And Jeremy thought the whole idea quite grand, too. Consequently, Edwin sent servants off to London to borrow costumes from his friend who runs the Olympic Theatre, and there you have it. Part of our entertainment for the house party.”
“I see.” Oh yes, he saw a great deal more than his oblivious cousin. Delia was manipulating the situation to her own advantage.
Suddenly Clarissa huffed out a breath. “Oh, dear, those fellows over there are going to destroy the sandals with their tomfoolery. I must go.”
