Page 1 of The Study of Seduction
One
London
April 1830
“You have lost your bloody mind.”
When every member in the reading room of St. George’s Club turned to look at Edwin Barlow, Earl of Blakeborough, he realized how loudly he’d spoken.
The place was more crowded than usual, now that everyone was back in London and night was falling. Gentlemen wanted a few drinks before they plunged into the maelstrom that was the Season.
With a quelling glance that sent the curious onlookers scrambling to mind their own business, Edwin returned his attention to Warren Corry, the Marquess of Knightford. “This plan of yours can’t possibly work.”
“Of course it can.”
Warren was Edwin’s closest friend. Really, his only friend, aside from his sister’s new husband, Jeremy Keane. Edwin didn’t make friends easily, probably because he didn’t suffer fools easily. And society was full of fools.
That was precisely why Edwin, Keane, and Warren had started this club—so they could separate the fools from the fine men. So they could protect the women in their lives from fortune hunters, gamblers, rakehells, and every other variety of scoundrel in London.
In a matter of months, the club had swollen from three to thirty members, all good men eager to share information about which of their peers couldn’t be trusted with women. Until now, Edwin hadn’t realized that so many gentlemen’s female relations needed protecting from sly and not-so-sly attempts on their virtue . . . and fortunes.
Warren was clearly taking that mission very seriously. Perhaps too seriously.
“Clarissa will never agree,” Edwin said.
“She has no choice.”
Edwin narrowed his gaze on Warren. “You actually believe you can convince your sharp-tongued cousin to let me squire her about town during the Season?”
“Only until I return. And why not?” Warren said, though he took a long swig of brandy as if to fortify himself for the fight. “It isn’t as if she hates you.”
“No, indeed,” Edwin said sarcastically. “She only challenges my every remark, ignores my advice, and tweaks my nose incessantly. The last time I saw her, she called me the Blakeborough Bear and said I belonged in the Tower of London menagerie, where ordinary people could be spared my growls.”
Warren burst into laughter. When Edwin lifted an eyebrow at him, Warren’s laugh petered out into a cough. “Sorry, old boy. But you have to admit that’s amusing.”
“Not nearly as amusing as it will be to watch you try to talk her into this,” Edwin drawled as he settled back in his chair.
Rather than giving Warren pause, that made the blasted idiot ask, “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
“The point is moot. She’s not going to agree.”
“Don’t be too sure. You mustn’t take her pokes at you as anything more than her usual mischief-making. You let her exaggerations get under your skin, which only tempts her to plague you more. You should just ignore her when she starts her nonsense.”
Ignore Clarissa? Impossible. He’d spent the past few years trying unsuccessfully to unwrap the mystery that was Lady Clarissa Lindsey. Her barbed wit fired his temper, her provocative smile inflamed him, and her shadowed eyes haunted his sleep. He could no more ignore her than he could ignore a rainbowed sunset . . . or a savage storm.
For three months now, she’d been isolated at Warren’s hunting lodge, Hatton Hall, and Edwin had felt every second of her absence. That was why the idea of spending time with her sent his blood pumping.
Not with anticipation. Certainly not. Couldn’t be.
“What do you say, old boy?” Warren held Edwin’s gaze. “I need you.Sheneeds you.”
Edwin ignored the leap in his pulse. Clarissa didn’t needanyone, least of all him. Thanks to the fortune left to her by her late father, the Earl of Margrave, she didn’t have to marry for love or anything else. Apparently, the woman had some fool notion she was better off without a husband, given that she’d reportedly refused dozens of marriage proposals since her debut years ago.
But it wasn’t her fortune that had men falling all over themselves trying to catch her eye. It was her quick wit and effervescent personality, her ability to draw a man in and put him off at the same time. It was her astonishing beauty. She was the fair-haired, green-eyed, porcelain-skinned darling of society, and she almost certainly knew it.
Which was why he rather enjoyed the prospect of watching Warren attempt to convince her she should go about town with a gruff curmudgeon like himself. “Assuming that she and I both agree to this insanity—how long would I have her on my hands?”
“It shouldn’t be more than a month. However long it takes me to deal with her brother in Portugal. I can’t leave Niall stranded on the Continent with all the unrest there right now.”
