The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 by Sabrina Jeffries Page B
Authors: Sabrina Jeffries
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your . . . derriere was very prominently . . . well . . .” He muttered an oath under his breath. “Yes, I noticed you in breeches. The whole damned world noticed. The male half, at least. I can’t believe Warren let you leave the house in that.”
“
Let
me? My cousin doesn’t dictate what I wear. Anyway, it was a masquerade. I wore a mask. No one knew who I was.”
“The devil they didn’t. And Warren considers it his duty to look after you. Which means making sure you don’t attract unwanted attention.”
“Warren didn’t know what I was wearing until I arrived. I came down with my cloak already on.” When his eyes narrowed as it apparently dawned on him that she’d done the same this evening, she added hastily, “This is why you and I would never suit, you know. You have no sense of fun.”
That brought him up short. He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not true. Didn’t you hear Miss Trevor at the museum? She said I was surprisingly droll.”
“That’s one instance—hardly enough to form a pattern.” She straightened her gloves. “Why, you can’t even go ten minutes without chiding me for something.”
“Nonsense. If I so chose, I could go an entire evening without chiding you.”
“Could you? Prove it.” The minute she said it, she questioned her sanity. Hadn’t she ended up regretting her previous attempt to set a task for him?
Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten that, for fire leapt in his eyes. “And if I do? What do I get as my reward?”
When his gaze drifted down to her arm, she swallowed hard, remembering the last reward he’d exacted. At least he wouldn’t dare choose such an outrageous prize tonight, since Mama was listening to the exchange quite avidly.
Although Mama would probably approve whatever prize Edwin asked for. She wasn’t exactly known for being a strict chaperone.
“Well?” he prodded.
“You get the satisfaction of knowing you are improving yourself.”
“That’s not much of an incentive.” The sudden gleam in his eyes gave her pause. “How about this? If I succeed in going an entire night without making a single criticism of you—”
“Or my attire or my manners or—”
“Anything in your sphere,” he said irritably.
“I’m just making sure we agree on the rules from the beginning.” After last time, she wasn’t letting him play fast and loose with her demands.
“Fine. If I behave to your specifications, then the next time I come to dine, you must wear breeches the entire evening.” He paused, then amended, “Breeches that
fit
, mind you.”
Oh, dear, he made that sound . . . rather wicked. It wasn’t like him at all. In fact, it shocked her he would suggest such a thing, and he was rarely shocking.
Her mother, however, didn’t seem to find it shocking at all, for she clapped her hands. “Oh, that would be such fun!”
“Mama! It’s far too scandalous!”
“Pish,” her mother said with a wave of her hand. “If it’s just us at dinner, no one will care.”
Clarissa
would care. As usual, Mama was more than willing to skate past the proprieties if they stood in the way of her enjoyment—or her determination to get Clarissa married off. Sometimes Clarissa enjoyed the freedom. Sometimes, she wished her mother wasn’t so . . . well . . . accommodating.
This was one of those times. While it might not be
too
risqué to dress in men’s attire for a masquerade where everyone else was wearing outrageous costumes, doing it in a more private setting with Edwin, especially when Mama was so inattentive, was taking things too far. Why, the very idea of him watching her backside . . .
“The servants will gossip,” she protested.
“Since when do you care about servant gossip?” Edwin said dryly.
Mama chimed in, “And they won’t think a thing about it, anyway, if we all dress up. We can make a game of it. I do love games.”
“Yes, by all means, let’s make a game of it,” Edwin said, his glittering gaze drifting
“
Let
me? My cousin doesn’t dictate what I wear. Anyway, it was a masquerade. I wore a mask. No one knew who I was.”
“The devil they didn’t. And Warren considers it his duty to look after you. Which means making sure you don’t attract unwanted attention.”
“Warren didn’t know what I was wearing until I arrived. I came down with my cloak already on.” When his eyes narrowed as it apparently dawned on him that she’d done the same this evening, she added hastily, “This is why you and I would never suit, you know. You have no sense of fun.”
That brought him up short. He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not true. Didn’t you hear Miss Trevor at the museum? She said I was surprisingly droll.”
“That’s one instance—hardly enough to form a pattern.” She straightened her gloves. “Why, you can’t even go ten minutes without chiding me for something.”
“Nonsense. If I so chose, I could go an entire evening without chiding you.”
“Could you? Prove it.” The minute she said it, she questioned her sanity. Hadn’t she ended up regretting her previous attempt to set a task for him?
Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten that, for fire leapt in his eyes. “And if I do? What do I get as my reward?”
When his gaze drifted down to her arm, she swallowed hard, remembering the last reward he’d exacted. At least he wouldn’t dare choose such an outrageous prize tonight, since Mama was listening to the exchange quite avidly.
Although Mama would probably approve whatever prize Edwin asked for. She wasn’t exactly known for being a strict chaperone.
“Well?” he prodded.
“You get the satisfaction of knowing you are improving yourself.”
“That’s not much of an incentive.” The sudden gleam in his eyes gave her pause. “How about this? If I succeed in going an entire night without making a single criticism of you—”
“Or my attire or my manners or—”
“Anything in your sphere,” he said irritably.
“I’m just making sure we agree on the rules from the beginning.” After last time, she wasn’t letting him play fast and loose with her demands.
“Fine. If I behave to your specifications, then the next time I come to dine, you must wear breeches the entire evening.” He paused, then amended, “Breeches that
fit
, mind you.”
Oh, dear, he made that sound . . . rather wicked. It wasn’t like him at all. In fact, it shocked her he would suggest such a thing, and he was rarely shocking.
Her mother, however, didn’t seem to find it shocking at all, for she clapped her hands. “Oh, that would be such fun!”
“Mama! It’s far too scandalous!”
“Pish,” her mother said with a wave of her hand. “If it’s just us at dinner, no one will care.”
Clarissa
would care. As usual, Mama was more than willing to skate past the proprieties if they stood in the way of her enjoyment—or her determination to get Clarissa married off. Sometimes Clarissa enjoyed the freedom. Sometimes, she wished her mother wasn’t so . . . well . . . accommodating.
This was one of those times. While it might not be
too
risqué to dress in men’s attire for a masquerade where everyone else was wearing outrageous costumes, doing it in a more private setting with Edwin, especially when Mama was so inattentive, was taking things too far. Why, the very idea of him watching her backside . . .
“The servants will gossip,” she protested.
“Since when do you care about servant gossip?” Edwin said dryly.
Mama chimed in, “And they won’t think a thing about it, anyway, if we all dress up. We can make a game of it. I do love games.”
“Yes, by all means, let’s make a game of it,” Edwin said, his glittering gaze drifting
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