Page 105 of The Study of Seduction
“What’s wrong?” Clarissa cried as she ran over to Warren. “Is Niall all right? Why are you back so soon?”
“Niall is well. But he told me something so alarming that I spent only a day with him before I rushed back.”
Clarissa edged closer to Edwin, as if seeking support, and he looped his arm about her waist.
Warren’s gaze narrowed on them. “And by the way, congratulations on your nuptials.” He swallowed some brandy. “I go away for a few weeks, and you two get married behind my back.”
“We had no choice,” Edwin said. “Durand left us none.”
“I can imagine. That’s why I returned. Because after talking to Niall, I discovered that not only did he know of Durand, but he thinks he knows why the man has been plaguing Clarissa: Durand is Joseph Whiting’s cousin on his mother’s side. Apparently they were the closest of friends, and grew up together before Durand’s family returned to France.”
Edwin’s gut knotted up. Bloody, bloody hell. This wasn’t entirely about Clarissa. It was about Whiting. And Niall.
Warren stared at Edwin, and a bitterness entered his voice. “But I don’t suppose you realize what that means. Niall had to explain it to me. Though I knew that Niall had killed Whiting in a duel, I didn’t know why. Until now.”
Edwin felt Clarissa sway against him, and anger welled up in him. “Actually, I know precisely what it means. Because she told me.”
Warren stared at Clarissa with a wounded expression. “Yet you couldn’t tell me, your own cousin? All these years of looking after you, not knowing that a bastard like Whiting had . . . had . . .”
“I couldn’t tell anyone,” she whispered. “They made me promise not to. Papa was determined that no one would ever learn of it. I’m surprised that Niall even revealed it to you, since he’s kept it secret all these years.”
“He didn’t have much choice.” Eyes hard, Warren swigged more brandy. “After he heard about Durand’s pursuit of you, he got alarmed and told me the whole sordid story. He was terrified that the count would hurt you.
“But I was also worried that Durand would go after Niall, especially after Niall told me that his reason for decamping from Spain to Portugal—and calling on me for help—was his friends’ warning him that someone had been asking around about him in Spain.”
“Durand,” Edwin bit out. “Or men he hired.”
“Oh, God,” Clarissa said. “And I talked to that devil about Niall, too! Nothing that would give away where he was, but still . . . Given that Count Durand claimed he wanted to marry me, it didn’t occur to me to question his interest in my brother.”
“So he’s trying to find Niall and hoping to use Clarissa to do it,” Edwin mused aloud. “I assume he wants revenge for his cousin’s death. But whynow? If it was so important to him, why not seek revenge seven years ago, right after the duel?”
Warren set down his empty glass. “I wondered that, too. Niall said Clarissa’s father had made some deal with Whiting’s mother that she wouldn’t—”
“—speak of the matter,” Edwin finished, impatiently. “Yes, we know that.”
“So Niall assumes she broke her silence,” Warren said. “He’s just not sure why.”
“Probably because she was dying,” Clarissa said in a small voice. “She died of a lingering illness last year. I saw it in the papers. And if Durand had been anywhere around her at the time, if she were using laudanum or if she were even delirious—”
“She may have said something,” Edwin put in. “And that sparked this whole thing. Having a relation die in an honorable duel over some anonymous soiled dove is one thing.” His voice hardened. “But when the duel is with a respectable woman’s brother, and the relation’s offer to marry her was refused, the man might suspect something more nefarious was at work.” He glanced at Warren. “When did Durand return to England as a member of the ambassador’s staff?”
“Last summer.”
Clarissa caught her breath. “Mrs. Whiting died last autumn.” Her gaze flew to Edwin. “That’swhy Count Durand called me a whore tonight. It wasn’t to goad you. It was because he knows everything, has always known everything. And he probably blames me for his cousin’s death.”
“That damned arse,” Edwin growled. “If he’d had the tale from Whiting’s ailing mother, she would never have admitted that his precious cousin was a rapist. There’s no telling how she would have cast the tale in her final hours. Or if she might have demanded that he seek justice for the family.”
“Wait a minute,” Warren asked Clarissa, “Durand called you awhore? I will beat him within an inch of his life!”
“No need,” Clarissa said dryly. “Your fool of a friend there challenged him to a duel for it.”
Warren blinked. “Damn.” He stared at Edwin. “Are you mad?”
“You were just talking about beating him yourself,” Edwin shot back. “I’m defending my wife’s honor!”
“Yes, but a duel . . .” Warren said. “You don’t even believe in duels.”
Edwin crossed his arms over his chest. “A man can alter his opinions.”
