Seduction In Silk: A Novel of the Malloren World (Malloran) by Jo Beverley Page A

she’d recovered she said, “Only that I once thought of appealing to him for protection against you.”
    “He might have obliged, especially as his wife would have urged him to it. Are you acquainted with Genova Ashart?”
    “Hardly.”
    “You’ll like her. She’s ready to stand by your side against the oppressive male world. In fact, she has already offered to help you prepare for the wedding and your future life.” He rose. “Shall I take you there now?”
    Claris swayed away from his outstretched hand. “No! You’re like quicksilver, sir. Allow me a more leaden pace.”
    “Tomorrow, then. I can delay no longer before traveling to London to purchase the license. Thus, I point out, I won’t linger at Cheynings to disturb you.”
    “A great blessing,” she said tartly. “But I prefer to stay here. There will be much to do. All our possessions . . .”
    He glanced around. “Abandon them. I can provide all you need.”
    She surged to her feet. “Does it not occur to you, you oaf, that we poor people might have possessions we value? No matter how worthless they seem to you?”
    “Oaf?”
    Their eyes clashed, but then he smiled.
    “My most sincere apologies, Claris. Of course you do. I will arrange for a wagon. Will one be enough?”
    It was the first time he’d used her name, and she knew then that she shouldn’t have given him permission.
    “A very small one will be enough.”
    “As for possessions, surely your grandmother and brothers can cope?”
    She supposed they could. Athena and Ellie would keep an eye on the boys, and together they could pack their belongings.
    “I am not harrying you to Cheynings for my benefit,” he said, “but for yours. You will be more comfortable with a gradual transition.”
    “I don’t know. . . .”
    He seized on her weakness. “I’ll come tomorrow morning to take you there.”
    Claris looked at the orange on the table. It had been like Persephone’s pomegranate after all, and clearly she’d already eaten too much to escape.
    “Very well,” she said. “Tomorrow.”
    When he’d gone, she shivered, but she also picked up and ate another piece.

Chapter 10
     
    P erry left before the unpredictable woman changed her mind. He waited until he was out of sight of the cottage before blowing out a relieved breath. He knew how such things could show even from the back. He was tempted to dance a jig.
    It was done!
    She wouldn’t change her mind and deprive her brothers of advantages. He wasn’t sure how potent the luxuries had been, but she’d not been unmoved by them.
    Had she ever tasted an orange before? Or ginger? Or brandied cherries?
    How intriguing she was. A shame there’d be scant opportunity to unravel the puzzle. Honor required that even during his thirty days at the manor he avoid her whenever possible.
    As he crossed the village green, he paused to consider the rectory that had been her home. It was a modern house with clean, square lines and long windows. It would be light filled and draft free. Ample chimneys implied winter warmth.
    On impulse he entered the churchyard through the lych-gate and walked the main graveled path between graves toward the mellow, square-towered church. Clergymen were generally buried close to the church walls, and that’s where he found Henry Mallow’s grave.
Here lies Henry Richard Mallow,
1718–1764 Anno Domini.
Rector of this parish from 1740 to 1764, always mindful of Christian charity and God’s mercy.
“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
     
    “May I help you, sir?”
    A stocky man in shirt, waistcoat, and breeches was coming over. He was probably the sexton, in charge of maintaining this place. Perry didn’t attempt concealment. The whole village would have been observing his comings and goings.
    “I’ve been visiting the Mallow family and thought to see their parents’ grave. The rector’s wife is not buried with him?”
    “Ah.” The lack of expression was eloquent. “Mistress