Page 60 of The Study of Seduction
Snatching it from him, Edwin read the words printed there in her neat, feminine handwriting:Edwin Barlow, Earl of Blakeborough, agrees to consummate his marriage to Lady Clarissa Lindsey only at a future date of her choosing. In exchange, Lady Clarissa agrees that the period of time between the wedding and the consummation of the marriage shall not proceed beyond one year.
A year! Bloody hell. She would deny him her bed for a year? His gaze shot to her, and he was about to protest when he saw fear flash over her face. At having him demand that she share his bed sooner than she was ready.
Then her features smoothed, and she was staring at him with her usual expression of challenge.
Perhaps he’d imagined the fear. He didn’t always read people correctly. Maidenly hesitation he could understand, but could shetrulybe terrified at the very idea of being bedded by him?
It seemed unlikely. Unless, of course, her mother had fed her the typical nonsense about the pain, humiliation, and unpleasantness of being deflowered. That would certainly put any woman on edge.
But that didn’t seem in character for Lady Margrave. If ever there was a woman who lived for pleasure, it was the dowager countess. And until Clarissa had made her one demand of him, Edwin would have thought the same of her—that she had an appetite for pleasure equal to his own.
As he stared down at the slip of paper, another possibility entered his mind. Could Durand have pressed his attentions on her more vigorously than he should have? The man had pinned her against the wall that day in the library. Had he done the unthinkable to her during those weeks in Bath? Was that why she despised him?
But that made no sense. If Durand had taken her innocence, he would have mentioned it to Edwin right away in hopes that Edwin would turn his back on her for being ruined.
She isn’t the woman you think she is.
Durand’s words taunted him, quickly joined by her own warning last night:There are things about me that you don’t know, things that you wouldn’t like.
He should have made both of them explain themselves. He hated sly hints and secretive allusions. On the other hand, he couldn’t believe anything Durand said, and Clarissa was just as likely to be talking about her propensity to snore as anything more serious.
Or she might just find him unappealing.
But he hadn’t been the only one caught up in all those passionate kisses. So he’d have to cling to the evidence that she was attracted to him. Enjoyed kissing him. And would one day surely enjoy sharing his bed.
“My lord?” the solicitor said. “Do you want me to add the clause?”
Edwin looked up and forced a haughty expression to his face. “Of course.” He threw the paper on the table. “Put it in exactly as she wrote it.”
From the moment Clarissa and Edwin left his solicitor’s, she felt numb. The look of wounded pride in his eyes, the anger in his voice when he’d told the solicitor to add her clause, still chilled her. She must be out of her mind to be marrying him.
Yet nothing had changed. She still couldn’t let Edwin risk his family’s future. She still dared not risk her own with the deranged Durand.
When they arrived at St. George’s in Hanover Square, she was heartened to have a beautiful bouquet pressed into her hand by the vicar’s wife, who would be serving as one of the witnesses to the ceremony.
“Thank you.” She buried her face in the sweet lilies. “It’s most kind of you.”
The woman smiled. “Your fiancé picked them out, my lady.”
Startled, Clarissa glanced at Edwin, who was watching her with an expression she couldn’t decipher. Wariness? Anticipation? She could no more read him than she could the man in the moon. “Then thank you, too, Edwin.”
He gave her a genuine smile devoid of mockery and cynicism, and it changed his whole face, made him look almost boyish. She liked those smiles best, because they were so rare.
And he looked sinfully handsome today, in his dark-blue coat, fawn trousers, and white figured silk waistcoat. He really had excellent taste in clothes. But then, the Vile Seducer had dressed nicely, too. She’d learned far too young that you couldn’t judge a man’s character by his choice of tailor.
Still, she thought they probably made an attractive couple as they headed to the altar. Edwin had arranged everything most precisely. He’d pressed his tiger into service as the second witness, and he’d even thought to purchase wedding rings sometime between yesterday afternoon and this morning.
Even though he’d bought hers without having a measurement, she was sure the ring would fit. Knowing Edwin, he’d gauged her size by doing some complicated mathematics in his head involving her height, the circumference of her hand, and the length of her fingers. And quite possibly the latitude and longitude of the church.
For some reason, the idea of him doing something so typicallyEdwinreassured her. As he stood solemnly beside her, she wondered if he might even be having the same vacillating thoughts as she, especially after that moment in the solicitor’s office.
But when it came to the vows, he never wavered. He said, “I will,” as readily as if he were marrying the love of his life.
Then it was her turn. The vicar asked, “Lady Clarissa, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
The old-fashioned words spoken in the vicar’s somber tones echoed in the empty cathedral like a funeral dirge. Could she do this? Did she dare?
As she hesitated, she glanced at Edwin and saw the muscle in his jaw tighten. But he didn’t look at her, didn’t try to coax her to say the words, didn’t even reach up to squeeze her hand where it gripped his arm.
