God. He’d never been good at deciphering women. He weighed his words. “I meant that men who don’t take no for an answer generally have a reason for their . . . obsession, if you will.” He thought of his mother. No, that wasn’t the same at all. “I’m merely trying to get at what the reason might be.” When she continued to stare balefully at him, he thought to add, “Beyond your beauty and wit, that is.”
She rolled her eyes. “You really cannot give a woman a compliment without being bullied into it, can you?”
That startled him. “I can. I just don’t always think to do so. I’m not like my smooth-talking brother.”
Something flitted over her features. Sympathy? No, it couldn’t be. Not with Clarissa.
Yet when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “No one would ever mistake you for Samuel, Edwin. And that’s something you should be proud of.”
He was still reeling from those unexpectedly thoughtful words when she cleared her throat and added in a harder voice, “But that doesn’t mean I want you scowling over me like a watchdog for the next few weeks.”
That was more the Clarissa he knew.
“Now, cousin,” Warren began, “Edwin was kind enough to agree to do this, and given that he doesn’t much enjoy society—”
“Exactly!” she snapped. “He’ll be worse than you—chiding me and curbing my enjoyments and glowering at anyone who dares to approach.”
“That last strategy is why I never have to put up with idiots at social occasions,” Edwin said dryly.
“It’s also why you have no friends,” Clarissa shot back.
“Clarissa, that’s enough!” Warren barked. “You’re being rude to a man who only wants to help.”
Edwin tensed. He shouldn’t care one way or the other if Clarissa balked. Indeed, it would be a boon—he wouldn’t have to deal with her moods and her unpredictability. He could walk away, having done what Warren asked.
But for some absurd reason, that didn’t sit well with him. “Why don’t you give us a moment alone, all right?” Edwin asked his friend.
Warren glanced from Edwin to Clarissa. “Fine. Perhaps you can talk some sense into her.” He headed for the door. “I’ll go attend to my aunt.”
As soon as Warren left, a hush settled upon the room. Edwin said nothing. He might not have experienced Clarissa in high dudgeon before, but he’d certainly dealt with Yvette enough to learn the effectiveness of quiet calm upon an enraged female.
Clarissa crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that I’m being difficult.”
“No.”
As the minutes spun out between them, she tipped up her chin. “Then you’re going to try to tell me that I have no choice in the matter. But Warren is not really—”
“Your guardian. Yes, I know. You’re too old for that. But your father did leave him in charge of your fortune and did ask him to look after you. So that’s what Warren is trying to do. And you always have a choice. I’d never take that from you.”
When he allowed the silence to build again, she regarded him with rank suspicion. “You’re going to remind me of my duty to my family?”
That made him smile. “Hardly. Seems to me that you’re already fulfilling your duty to your family admirably.” Before she could retort, he added, “But if you don’t agree to this, Warren will worry about you while he’s off dealing with your brother, so his mind won’t be on what he’s doing. And that will hamper his ability to get Niall out of whatever mess he’s in.”
Gritting her teeth, she glanced away. “It’s surprisingly devious of you to come up with that, Edwin.”
“Not a bit. It’s the truth.”
“Then Warren should let me go with him. He can keep watch over me better that way.”
“And you will slow him down. Is that what you want? For him to arrive too late to help your brother?”
Her gaze swung back to him, a roil of flashing green that took his breath away. “Why should I slow him down?”
He shrugged. “You’ll need servants. You can’t travel without a maid at the very least, so arrangements will have to be made, more luggage accounted for, more time spent in customs—”
“Enough.” She fisted her hands at her sides. “I hate it when you’re logical.”
“I’m always logical. You hate it when I’m right.”
To his surprise, her lips twitched as if fighting a smile. “That, too.”
With his blood pounding, he searched her face. “Would it really be so terrible to spend time in my company?”
“No, of course not.” Whirling away from him, she went to stare out the window at the back garden. “I just hate that the count has more power over my life at present than I do. And we don’t even know if he’s still interested!”
“True. But if he is and he continues to plague you, wouldn’t you prefer to have someone in your corner?”
A sigh shuddered out of her. “Are you in my corner, Edwin?”
The question tightened an unfamiliar knot in his chest. “I am always in your corner.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “I should hope we are friends at the very least.”
“Friends?” She turned to cast him an enigmatic look that threw him off-balance. “Is that what we are? I’ve never been quite sure.”