“Am I causing trouble, my lady?” the count asked Clarissa.
His studied drawl didn’t fool her. He looked on edge and thoroughly dangerous. She wouldn’t go off alone with him for all the world.
“You know that you are, sir. But as I said earlier, it hardly matters. You merely succeeded in moving up the announcement we would have made soon anyway.”
The count tightened his jaw. “Knightford hasn’t yet approved of the match.”
“He will. Edwin is perfectly eligible, and is Warren’s closest friend besides. In any case, I’m of age. Warren doesn’t have to approve our engagement. We merely wanted his blessing.”
With a cold glance at Edwin, the Frenchman scowled. “Does that mean you still intend to wait to wed until his return?”
“We haven’t decided,” Edwin said. “Not that it’s any of your concern.”
“I could make it my concern,” Count Durand said.
Her stomach churned.
“I’d like to see you try,” Edwin snarled, fury coming off him in waves.
Like a hound at a bear-baiting, the count was deliberately provoking Edwin. She half expected at any minute for Edwin to rip out Count Durand’s throat.
“Enough,” she said with a forced lightness in her tone, determined to calm both men. “This is silly—the two of you snapping at each other. Mama is waiting. We shall all three return to the box together, before we miss any more of the performance.” She tugged Edwin’s arm. “Come, my dear, let’s go.”
It was like trying to drag the baited bear from the arena, with his hackles raised and teeth bared, before he had the chance to devour his tormentor. For a moment she feared Edwin would do something rash, like fight the count then and there, fomenting gossip throughout society.
Then, to her vast relief, Edwin relaxed his stance. “Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you wish.”
But as the three of them returned to the box through the passageways, she knew she had only forestalled a coming battle. Because she feared that Count Durand meant to draw blood until Edwin flat-out murdered him.
Eleven
Durand left the box as soon as they returned to it, thank God, or Edwin would have thrown the blasted fellow out of it. Fortunately, they saw no sign of the count when they left the theater.
Edwin hoped the reprieve lasted a while, but he no longer knew what to think of the Frenchman. He’d never seen a man so determined to bedevil a woman. There had to be something else behind it than a mere desire to have Clarissa as his wife.
Granted, any man would want her, but to continue once Edwin and Clarissa started going about in public together? Once they announced their engagement? It was beyond odd.
It was nearly midnight by the time they drew up in front of Warren’s town house. Edwin glanced over at Clarissa, his gut twisting into a knot to see how still and silent she sat. This business with Durand could not go on.
And what if she’s silent because of you and your rash actions in that dressing room?
God, he couldn’t bear the thought.
When the door opened, Edwin climbed out to help the two ladies disembark and tried to gauge their moods. Normally he wasn’t good at reading women, but even he could tell that Lady Margrave was worn-out. It had been a long night, after all.
Meanwhile, Clarissa’s furrowed brow and faraway look made Edwin want to put his fist through the flimsy wall of the carriage. The intensity of the feeling alarmed him. He’d never had such urges in his life as he did when he was around her. That couldn’t be good. A man should always be wary of strong emotions. It invariably drove him to behave badly.
Edwin helped Lady Margrave up the steps, all too aware of Clarissa climbing slowly up behind them. He wanted to halt her, drag her into his arms, and comfort her until she returned to her usual buoyant self. It was too late to do more than accompany them inside, yet he burned to finish his conversation with her about a possible marriage between them. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that she was in more danger from Durand than ever.
And his feeling was confirmed when, as soon as they entered, the butler took him aside. “You asked me to keep an eye out for that Frenchman, my lord, and I did. He’s here.”
Anger burned Edwin’s throat. “In the house?”
“No, down the street, in his coach.”
He scowled. Durand must have driven to the house another way to await their return. Otherwise, they would have seen him on their way here. “How long has he been there?”
“Half an hour or more.”
Clarissa came over. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Edwin didn’t want her to feel unsafe in her own home. He could take care of Durand without involving her.
She searched his face, then shrugged. “Mama wants to know if you’ll join us for a celebratory glass of wine before you leave.”
He glanced over to where Lady Margrave stood beaming at him. “Another time, perhaps. I have something to attend to.”
“At this hour?” Clarissa said.