She and the major swung about the alternate couple, and when they were in line again, she said, “The earl is looking for a wife.” She felt a perverse need to defend him. “Nothing unusual in that.”
“Then he should dance. How better to get to know a woman?” Major Wilkins’s gaze dropped to her bosom and stuck as he made his chassé to the right. “And women prefer a man who can show a good leg.”
After their chassé to the left, Clarissa trod on the toes attached to his “good leg,” jerking his attention back to her face.
She smiled thinly. “And here I thought that women prefer a man who can show good manners. Silly me.”
The insult went right past him. “I should hope a gentleman can show both.”
“Indeed. Let me know when you intend to start.”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing.” Thank heaven the dance was ending, and she could escape. Even Mama’s nattering was preferable to this puffed-up partridge’s lewd behavior.
They bowed to each other, and he led her toward her companions. As they approached, Edwin watched her with an enigmatic stare. He continued to do so as greetings were exchanged and she waited for the major to move on to the next pair of bosoms.
But the officer lingered to chat. Wonderful. Now she had to make polite conversation. And clearly Edwin, who now stoically drank his champagne, wouldn’t be any help at all.
Fortunately, Mama was always willing to step in. “So, Major Wilkins, you’re the Duke of Hastings’s youngest, are you not?”
He nodded stiffly. Clearly he didn’t like being reminded that he was at the bottom rung of his lofty lineage.
“And are you married?” her mother prodded.
He must not have minded that question so much, for he slid a sly glance at Clarissa. “Unfortunately, no, ma’am. Though I’m not averse to the idea.”
“I should hope not,” Mama said. “An officer of your consequence requires a wife, preferably a pretty one to move him forward in society.”
“Yes,” Edwin muttered, “a pretty one is always preferable to one with sense.”
Clarissa couldn’t resist poking the bear. “Don’t you think it possible for a woman to have both?”
Edwin shrugged. “Possible? Yes. Usual in our circles? No.”
“Then you must consider me a most unusual woman. Or else you think me either ugly or dim-witted.”
“You know that I think you neither one.” Edwin’s gaze locked with hers. “And this is starting to feel distinctly like a trap.”
“A trap of your own making,” she quipped. “I wasn’t the one to say that beauty in a woman is preferable to brains.”
“I did not say—”
“Careful, now.” The major nudged Edwin. “The lady will have you tied up in knots before you know it.”
“And Clarissa is very good at tying knots,” Mama said cheerily. “Why, she recently tatted the most splendid little coin purse you ever did see. It had a sweet button on the . . .”
For once, Clarissa appreciated Mama’s nonsense. It saved her from an escalating argument with Edwin, who never seemed to know when she was teasing him. Even now, he stood ramrod straight, his jaw carved from stone. However did he manage to shave that chin when it was always so rigid?
“I can well believe that your daughter excels in the feminine arts,” Major Wilkins was saying in an attempt to ingratiate himself with her mother. “Clearly Lady Clarissa is possessed of every womanly virtue.”
“Not to mention a sizable dowry,” Edwin said, an edge to his voice.
The officer looked uncertain of how to respond to that in a gentlemanly manner. “While I’m sure that is true, I should think . . . That is . . .” It took him a moment to find his bearings. “A fortune is of no consequence in matters of the heart, after all.”
Edwin lifted an eyebrow, and Clarissa choked back a laugh.
“Don’t be silly,” Mama said. “A fortune is always of consequence. Which is why my late husband made sure that our children were well provided for. Very well.” She nudged Clarissa none too subtly. “Eh, my dear?”
Oh, Lord. Mama would probably give up her best fur to see Clarissa snag a duke’s son, youngest of the bunch or no. Particularly since Clarissa kept refusing the suits of older sons.
Thankfully, Clarissa was saved from more matchmaking by the sound of waltz music.
“Forgive me, Major,” Clarissa said hastily, “but I promised Lord Blakeborough the first waltz.”
“Lucky fellow,” the officer said with a frown.
“Lucky, indeed.” Edwin knew perfectly well she was lying, but fortunately he didn’t let on. He simply offered her his arm and led her off.
As soon as they took the floor, she set out to appease him. “I’m sorry for the subterfuge, but—”
“It’s fine.” He led her through the steps with typical precision. “I suppose I’ll have more luck finding a wife if I practice the usual ballroom sports.”
“You don’t require practice.”
His gaze sharpened on her. “No need to flatter me. I know my limits.”