Fortunately, the music started up just then. “The next piece is beginning,” she said brightly. “You’d all better hurry back to your boxes, or you’ll miss it.” She couldn’t wait to be rid of the count, so she could talk to Edwin alone.
Of course Mama was having none of that. “Nonsense, Edwin has plenty of room here. They can all remain. Why not? It’s a celebration of your impending wedding.”
Stifling a groan, Clarissa said meaningfully, “I’m sure Count Durand is eager to get Lady Anne back to her mother.”
When Mama paled, it was obvious she hadn’t meant to include the count in her invitation. But she could hardly take it back now.
Especially since Lady Anne had apparently decided that Clarissa’s loss could be her gain. “No reason for that. I’ll just pop down and tell Mama where the count and I are. I’m sure we’d love to stay here.” She tucked her hand in the crook of the count’s arm. “Wouldn’t we, sir?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” the wretch drawled.
“No doubt,” Edwin gritted out.
Lord, what a mess! As she and Edwin took their seats, she noticed Mama trying to remedy the situation by inviting Lady Anne and the count to sit beside her. But Count Durand was having none of that, and he and Lady Anne situated themselves right behind Edwin and Clarissa.
Clarissa could only sit there stewing. However would she get a chance to talk to Edwin about how to deal with their “engagement”?
Edwin must have realized her state of mind, for as the scene began, he gave her hand a quick, furtive squeeze.
Meeting his gaze, she mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he mouthed back. “It will be fine.”
She wasn’t so sure.
The next hour was an agony. Too upset over the count’s meddling, she couldn’t concentrate on the hodgepodge of songs and comical scenes that made up the second piece.
Was she just imagining it, or was Count Durand’s gaze boring into her back? Having him behind her and not knowing for certain if his eyes were fixed on her made her skin crawl. There was something distinctly wrong with that man.
Either that or she did actually put off an inexplicable scent or air or something that made men want to possess her at any cost. She always seemed to be fending off gentlemen who bullied their way into her life.
Except for Edwin, of course. She didn’t have to fend him off. Ever since their kiss, he’d gone back to keeping a discreet distance between them.
So when she slid a glance in his direction, she was surprised to find him watching her with that dark, brooding look he got sometimes, the one that roused a strange quivering low in her belly.
It made no sense. He didn’t like her. He didn’t approve of her. Why must he look at her that way, as if he were trying to understand her better? Edwin didn’t want to understand anybody, especially her. Did he?
She tore her gaze from his and tried to concentrate on the performances. But it was impossible. Because of the extra people in the box, they’d had to bring in more chairs and pull them closer together, so Edwin’s leg lay snug up against hers from thigh to calf.
Did he realize it? If it had been any other man, she would have assumed that he did, but with Edwin, it was impossible to know. The man was so impenetrable, he could out-riddle the Sphinx.
Whatever the reason, the sensation of having his leg pressed against hers felt much too intimate for the theater. Much too intimate for anywhere.
How ridiculous. It was only a leg—everyone had them. So why was her blood rustling through her veins like a tiger stirring in deep grasses? Why was her breath coming in hard hitches?
She drew her leg casually away from his. She was just overly aware of him tonight because of Count Durand. Thanks to the Frenchman, Edwin would once again have to be jilted, and she hated that.
The second hour of Olympic Revels ended after what seemed like an eternity. But even as Edwin rose and asked her, “Would you like to go downstairs to view the renovations to the lobby?” a knock came at the door.
When it was opened, the same servant entered who’d escorted them to the box earlier. He bowed to Edwin. “My lord, Madame Vestris sent me to ask if you and your two guests would wish to pay her a visit in her dressing room.”
Clarissa drew in a sharp breath. That was a distinct honor.
Edwin seemed conscious of it, too, for he lifted an eyebrow at her. “Well?”
“Do you really need to ask? Of course I wish to go!” She could meet Madame Vestris and escape the count.
She turned to her mother, who was busily chatting with her friends about wedding plans. “Mama, do you want to join me and Edwin? Madame Vestris has invited us to her dressing room.”