Page 57 of The Study of Seduction
“You must . . . give me time to adapt to marriage before we share a bed. I still feel as if we’re practically strangers. I never thought of you romantically before, and now—”
“You do?”
“I don’t know. That’s what worries me. I don’t even know how to think of someone that way. But you must promise that I will be the one to choose when we share a bed, however long it takes.”
“That sounds ominous,” he said dryly.
“I know. But that’s my condition. And I want it in the terms of the settlement.”
His face clouded. “Ah.”
“I know it’s not the sort of thing that a man would ever—”
“I’ll add it.”
“If you can’t—”
“It’s fine. We’ll stop at the solicitor’s office in the morning to have it put in and the signatures witnessed. Be sure to look over the settlement tonight to make sure you want no other changes.”
She swallowed. “You should probably not come to dinner. Just send a note saying you’re busy or something. Because it will be too hard for you to keep lying through Mama’s incessant chatter about our grand wedding that will never be.”
He scowled. “I didn’t think about that. You won’t get that grand wedding, and your mother will never forgive me for that.”
“Nonsense. You’re marrying me. She was afraid I’d never marry, so she’ll be fine. And we can have a grand party later to celebrate.”
“What about you? Will you regret not having that grand wedding?”
A sudden sharp pang in her chest told her that some part of her would, but she squelched it. “I never planned to marry, so I wouldn’t have had it anyway.”
Her tone must have been more wistful than she’d realized, for his eyes darkened. “It will be all right, Clarissa, I promise. I will make it all right.”
Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her. It was sweet and tender and utterly unthreatening. And it gave her hope that he might be telling the truth about their future. Because if he wasn’t, she didn’t know if she could bear it.
Thirteen
Edwin had no idea what to expect when he showed up at Warren’s town house the next morning. After a night alone, Clarissa might have changed her mind about marrying him. And then what could he do?
He’d already done his best to convince her that Durand wouldn’t call his bluffafterthey married. If that happened, she would never forgive him for obscuring the truth by deliberately playing down how devastating the scandal of his father’s spying could be forher. If Durand went to the press with his evidence—and threw in a few hints that Edwin had been involved, too—it would ruin them both.
Guilt made him wince. He should have told her all that. But she wouldn’t have married him if he had—he was sure of it. Clarissa liked being the belle of the ball.
What she didn’t like, apparently, was being the belle of the bedchamber.
But you must promise that I will be the one to choose when we share a bed, however long it takes.
Edwin sighed. It was that last part that stymied him. She’d spoken of his siring an heir, so she couldn’t mean to deny him her bed forever. And her plan was a sound one—to wait until they were more comfortable with each other to become intimate. So why did it gnaw at him that she’d even ask such a thing?
Because it made him wonder yet again what precisely was wrong with him. Despite accepting his kisses, despite her flirtations and her teasing, she didn’t want to be close the way a man and wife should be. It oughtn’t matter to him—he’d expected his marriage to be more of a business arrangement than a love match.
But he’d also expected to bed his bride. It was almost unbearable to think of being denied that.
Blast it, he was being ridiculous. Clarissa was just having a fit of nerves. She wouldn’t go on like that for long. Even if she did, he certainly knew how to tempt a lady into his bed. How hard could it be with a woman like Clarissa, who’d responded to his kisses with enthusiasm?
Assuming she didn’t rescind her agreement to marry him.
Fortunately, he arrived at the town house to find her waiting for him, dressed in a rather elaborate ensemble involving feathers and bows and an enormous hat with a transparent veil trimmed in lace. She looked rather like a gift box wrapped in net and oceans of silk, utterly inaccessible.
It didn’t help that her mother awaited him, too. “How lovely of you to take Clarissa driving in Green Park as an apology for missing last night’s dinner!” she exclaimed.
