Page 21 of The Study of Seduction
“Perhaps your plan is working,” she said.
“Or he’s plotting a more indirect way to get to you.”
A shiver swept over her before she could suppress it. It infuriated her. She’d worked for years to put her fear behind her, to fight off the bad dreams and the nervousness. Now, that dratted Durand threatened to overset all her hard-won control.
She refused to let him. “Lord, I hope he’s abandoned his interest. If he hasn’t, it will send Mama into even more of a ‘spell’ than she’s in at present.”
Her mother had begged to be excused from this party because she was having one of her “spells.” Privately, Clarissa had suspected that Mama was simply trying to allow her and Edwin a chance to be alone, but Clarissa had said nothing to him about it andmerely asked that they take his open phaeton for propriety’s sake.
Miss Trevor and Lady Maribella hurried up to them. “Have you seen the boy draughtsman who draws sketches, Lady Clarissa?” Miss Trevor asked. “You must come look at it! It’s in the next room.”
The women tried to pull Clarissa away from Edwin, but she grabbed his arm. “His lordship and I will both come. He’s very knowledgeable about automatons. Perhaps he can give us some idea of how they work.”
“That would be wonderful,” Miss Trevor said without enthusiasm as she led the way into the other room. Clearly, the woman knew his reputation for being blunt and reticent.
But Lady Maribella must not have, for she gushed, “There’s a writer and a piano player, too. All three are positively amazing!”
“As opposed to negatively amazing, I suppose,” Edwin muttered under his breath as they followed at a more leisurely pace.
“Hush,” Clarissa chided, though she stifled a laugh. “She’s young.”
“You’reyoung. But you still know how to use the English language.”
“Why, Lord Blakeborough,” Clarissa said sweetly, “I do believe you’re giving me a compliment. You see? It’s not that difficult.”
“I never have trouble giving compliments to women I admire.”
Her pulse quickened. He admired her? Truly?
Miss Trevor had halted in front of them quickly enough to hear his last two words, which she pounced on. “What is it that you admire, Lord Blakeborough? Do tell.”
When Edwin frowned, Clarissa said hastily, “He was just saying how much he liked your gown, Miss Trevor. It’s a work of art.”
The young lady glanced to him as if for affirmation.
Edwin smiled blandly. “A work of art. Truly.”
“Why, thank you, my lord.” She cast him an assessing look, then hurried off to whisper in Lady Maribella’s ear.
“A work of the worst art I’ve ever seen,” Edwin muttered.
“Edwin!” Clarissa hissed.
“Don’t tell me you like that riot of stripes and plaids and atrocious ribbons.”
She paused, torn between confessing the truth and discouraging his bluntness. But she didn’t want him to think her utterly brainless. “I’ll admit that her gown is . . . rather unfortunate.”
“‘Rather unfortunate’ is kinder than it deserves.”
“True.” She nudged him. “And yet, the two ladies are now regarding you with more fondness, are they not?”
Indeed, Miss Trevor and Lady Maribella were having quite the whispered conversation across the room, punctuated by furtive looks of interest at Edwin.
He rolled his eyes. “That’s only because you lied to Miss Trevor, which I will never do.”
“You don’t have to. Just look for the good things in her, in all of them, and focus on those. Surely you can find one good thing to compliment in every woman you meet.”
“I doubt it.”
