“Why?”
He shrugged. “I have no interest in courting those silly chits. Well, perhaps Miss Trevor would suit, if she didn’t have such poor taste in clothes. But as for the rest, I’d rather die a bachelor than marry one of them. So why bother complimenting them?”
“It’s precisely because you have no interest in them that they’re perfect for you to practice upon. You have nothing to lose.”
“And nothing to gain, either.”
“I tell you what. If you can offer one genuine compliment to each of our four companions before we leave, I shall give you a reward.”
Interest sparked in his eyes. “What sort of reward? And please tell me it won’t be a dance.”
She laughed. “I shall let you choose. Whatever you wish.”
“All right.” Did she imagine it or had his breath suddenly quickened? He jerked his gaze from her. “So, a reward.” He imbued the last word with such meaning that it sent a quiver of anticipation through her.
Good Lord. Perhaps she shouldn’t have given him carte blanche so recklessly.
No, Edwin would never abuse the privilege by asking for something . . . rakish. He wouldn’t.
But you wish he would.
Her cheeks heated. Certainly not. That was ridiculous.
“You’re blushing, minx,” he said under his breath.
Now it wasn’t just her cheeks heating but other parts of her. It had been years since that happened. Yet in the past four days, she’d felt that cursed melting warmth in her belly more and more frequently. If the man weren’t so infuriating, she might actually think she was coming to like him.
It simply wouldn’t do. “You’re stalling. You still have to give four compliments, you know. Or lose your reward.”
He eyed her steadily. “Very well. Let’s get this over with.”
Before she could protest that he was missing the point, he stalked out into the garden and up to Lady Anne. “That is the most interesting hat I have ever seen,” he said bluntly.
Clarissa choked back a frustrated laugh. Edwin could be so direct.
Fortunately, Lady Anne took “interesting” as a compliment. “Do you think so? It’s my favorite.” Beaming at him, the young lady affectionately patted the bonnet that resembled a platter of moldy fruit and began to wax eloquent about hats.
He endured her soliloquy for several moments before saying, “Excuse me, I forgot I needed to speak to Lady Maribella about a matter of some importance.” After bowing to Lady Anne, he shot Clarissa a cheeky grin as he strolled over to Lady Maribella and Lady Jane, who stood next to the refreshments table.
Clarissa glared at him, which didn’t seem to faze him one bit. Determined to hear what he said, she sidled over to pick up a glass of negus, as if that had been her sole purpose in approaching the table. Did Edwin really mean to fire his compliments at his targets in rapid succession just to obtain a reward?
Ooh, that was so like him. He disliked small talk.
“Lord Blakeborough!” Lady Maribella exclaimed before he could say a word. “Isn’t this just the prettiest little garden you ever saw?”
Clarissa snorted. The woman clearly had a fondness for hyperbole and inane observations. She would sorely tax Edwin’s patience.
“It is quite a little garden, yes,” he said. “It suits you.”
Hmm. Should Clarissa count that? The trace of irony in his voice said it wasn’t entirely a compliment.
But Lady Maribella took it as one, for she giggled and blushed and said, “Oh, you are such a charmer, sir.”
When the ridiculous claim made Clarissa choke on her negus, Edwin’s gleaming gaze shot to her over the heads of his companions. “It’s easy to be a charmer with such fine inspiration standing before me.”
Clarissa froze. He clearly did not mean Lady Maribella and Lady Jane, so the compliment shouldn’t count one whit. Yet the rough thrum with which he said it, and the heat in his expression before he returned his gaze to the other two ladies, made her weak in the knees. If that didn’t suffice to prove him capable of flattering a woman, she didn’t know what would.
Then Lady Jane said, “Which flowers do you like best, sir? I like the jonquils because they remind me of Mama. She used to love them so.”
A lump caught in Clarissa’s throat. Much as her own mother taxed her patience, she couldn’t imagine losing her at as young an age as Lady Jane had lost hers.
Edwin smiled softly at the girl. “I’m sure she didn’t love them half as much as that smile of yours. It would brighten any sickroom.”
He clearly meant it, and that only thickened the lump in Clarissa’s throat. Whenever Edwin showed the kindly side he generally kept deeply buried, it made her question her assumptions about him.