“So, what if Durand does go to the press? What then?”
“Obviously, I’ll have no choice. She and I will weather the scandal as best we can.” And he would try to make it up to her somehow. If he could. “We’ll go abroad, wait until the furor dies.”
“You could always shoot the man,” Keane said genially.
“Believe me, I’ve considered it, old boy.” He sighed. “But since Clarissa has already lost her brother to exile because of a senseless duel, I hardly think she’d appreciate losing a husband to the gallows.”
“True. I suppose we’ll just have to hope Durand comes to his senses. Because if you and Clarissa leave England for any reason, Yvette will get some fool notion about us taking over the care of Stoke Towers, the way Warren has with Margrave Manor—and I can barely manage the country house I just bought.”
“I shudder to think what you would do if you ran this place,” Edwin said. “You’d be having the dairymaids pose as gin-soaked washerwomen so you could paint them.”
Keane paused with his cigar midair. “What a good idea. Or I could pose the footmen with them—add a bit of rowdy soldier flirtation to the scene. Of course, I’d have to acquire a number of military costumes—”
“Stay away from my servants, damn you,” Edwin growled.
His brother-in-law burst into laughter. “You should see your face. That’s what I ought to paint—you in high dudgeon. But trust me, I have no interest in having your servants model for me. I have enough trouble keeping up with the projects I’m engaged in already.” Setting his brandy down, Keane turned serious. “So make sure you don’t run afoul of Durand, do you hear?”
“I’ll do my best. But the man is unpredictable.” Edwin shook his head. “And I never know how to deal with unpredictable people.”
Like his wife. He only hoped that in time she at least would become easier to read. Otherwise, he was in for a long, cold marriage.
As Clarissa finished her tale about Durand, Yvette let out a most unladylike oath. “The count did what? That devil! How could he? I mean, I know he was mad for you, but I didn’t realize he was . . . well . . . mad.”
“I know. It’s very strange. I cannot believe he keeps dogging me like this. Neither Edwin nor I can figure it out.”
Unsure about the family secrets Durand was using to force Edwin’s hand, Clarissa wasn’t certain whether she should mention the blackmail. So far she’d only said that Edwin had feared Durand would try to abduct her and thus had married her to keep her safe. But prevaricating with her closest friend made her uncomfortable.
And that wasn’t the only thing unnerving her. They were talking in Clarissa’s new bedchamber, rather than in Yvette’s old room, as they’d always done before. And it was Clarissa who’d summoned the servants to bring tea, Clarissa who’d given the orders about adding two for dinner. It felt rather odd to play lady of the house in front of the woman who’d always played that role previously.
Yvette now lay sprawled across the bed while Clarissa roamed the room, unable to sit still after her encounter with Edwin this afternoon. If she were married to anyone else, she could have begged her friend’s advice about her marital troubles. But Yvette was liable to take her brother’s side.
Not that there really was a side to this mess. Edwin had made a noble sacrifice and was now suffering for it. Meanwhile, Clarissa had stumbled into the very thing she’d been avoiding—marriage to a man who would want to bed her, who had every right to bed her. And whom she hurt with every refusal to let him do so.
“You’re happy with Edwin, aren’t you?” Yvette asked. “Even though you were forced into marrying him—”
“I wasn’t forced,” she said stiffly. “I chose to marry him. I could have refused, you know.”
“And risked being abducted by Durand. Admit it, Edwin’s a veritable angel compared to the Frenchman.”
“I would never describe your brother as an angel,” she said with a faint smile. “More like a knight-errant.”
“Yes, he does tend to be overly protective of his womenfolk,” Yvette said wryly. “I always found it annoying.”
“I find it rather sweet. Except that knights come with armor that can be hard to pierce.” Though his armor wasn’t primarily the problem. It was hers.
“Give him time. He’ll let you into his life bit by bit.”
Clarissa raised an eyebrow at Yvette. “How many years did it take him to do so with you?”
Yvette shrugged. “That’s different. Brothers routinely share secrets with their wives that they never tell their sisters, trust me. Amanda’s hair would stand on end if she knew some of the things Jeremy has told me. There’s an intimacy between husband and wife that can’t exist between brother and sister, for obvious reasons.”