Page 26 of The Study of Seduction

“You didn’t say I had to explain. You didn’t put any parameters on the reward. If you wanted a different outcome, you should have been more specific. You only demanded that I give—”

“Fine,” she said, to forestall his litany of logic. “If that is what you wish, you may kiss the inside of my arm. Once.”

His gaze burned into hers. “Yourbarearm,” he corrected her.

She gave an exasperated breath. “Yes, of course. Mybarearm.”

“Excellent.”

As he marched back into the museum, she told herself that a kiss on her arm was nothing. It wasn’t like a kiss on the mouth. It was hardly even intimate.

So why was her pulse leaping like a flying fish in anticipation?

Six

Edwin couldn’t help noticing Clarissa’s uncharacteristic silence on their way home. Generally, she chattered to her mother about each event they attended, describing who was wearing what, the drollest comments she’d heard, the latest gossip she’d gleaned in the retiring room. And he let her and her mother natter on, content just to slip into his own thoughts.

But her mother wasn’t with them, so the ride felt more intimate than usual, even with his tiger on the perch behind them. Night was falling, and her body slid against him every time they made a turn.

Sometimes he made the turn purposely sharp for that very reason. Not for nothing did he have an extensive knowledge of physics and how bodies behaved in motion.

After one such turn, Clarissa muttered an oath under her breath. “I’m astonished that you own a phaeton. And that you drive it so fast. I would have expected you to be more . . . well . . .”

“Boring?” he said tightly.

“Cautious. As a general rule, you aren’t reckless.”

“As long as one first assesses a rig to determine its limits, it is not reckless to drive it to the full extent of its capabilities.”

“Clearly when you did your assessing,” she grumbled, “you did not take your passenger into account. But then, that is typical of you.”

Of course he’d taken his passenger into account. That was why he was making all these sharp turns, though he could hardly tell her that.

He glanced over to see her clutching her large silk bonnet with one hand and the side of the phaeton with the other. She looked quite fetching doing it, too, with her plaid gown of soft blues and reds ruffling in the wind. “You seem to have a great many ideas about me that bear no resemblance to my true character.”

“I could say the same for you. Though it’s notmyfault we don’t know each other better. You tend to run off whenever I’m around.”

“Because you and Yvette chatter incessantly. There’s only so much a man can endure.”

“Well, if you thinkwe’rechatterboxes, you should see Miss Trevor.” Clarissa slanted a glance at him. “Indeed, I feel I should warn you about her. She’s clever, I’ll grant you, but I don’t think the two of you would suit.”

He bit back a smile. “In other words,youdon’t want to marry me, but you don’t want anyone else to marry me, either.”

Judging from the way she jerked her gaze back to the road, he’d hit the mark. “It’s not that I don’t want to marry you in particular,” she said. “I told you, I have no intention of marrying anyone.”

“And why is that?”

Her face grew shuttered. “I’m not the romantic sort, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to be the romantic sort to marry.”

“No, but you have to be affectionate, at least.” She stared blindly ahead at the road. “And I am also not the affectionate sort.”

“I see.” But he didn’t see at all. He couldn’t imagine her as a cold, unfeeling woman, no matter what she seemed to think.

She babbled on. “Men want affectionate wives. They deserve them, just as women deserve affectionate husbands. Since I can’t provide that, I wouldn’t think it fair to marry a man under false pretenses.”

“If you say so. But that’s all the more reason you shouldn’t try to dictate whomIshould marry.”