The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)
Sabrina Jeffries
About the Book
When Edwin Barlow, the Earl of Blakeborough, agrees to help his best friend's impetuous ward, Lady Clarissa Lindsey, he knows he's in for trouble. He's been hunting for someone to wed but, although captivated by her witty, free-spirited beauty, the gruff cynic fears she'd be all wrong as a wife . . .
Clarissa has no intention of marrying anyone. Yet when matters escalate with a powerful French diplomat who's stalking her, she accepts Edwin's gallant offer of marriage. Expecting an amiable union between friends, their increasingly tempestuous kisses prove more than she bargained for and, when Clarissa's stalker vows to expose their deepest secrets, the lovers' tenuous bond is tested. Can they withstand public ruin, or will Edwin risk all that's important to him to protect his bride?
For more dazzlingly romantic and witty historical romance, don't miss Sabrina's other gorgeous series including The Hellions of Halstead Hall, The School for Heiresses and The Royal Brotherhood.
For my husband, Rene, who’s about as close to being Edwin as a man can get, but without the math/engineering skills.
And for Becky Timblin and Kim Ham, whose support despite their many challenges this year meant worlds to me. Y’all are the best!
Acknowledgments
A big thank-you to sex educator Dr. Emily Nagoski, whose input on my characters and information on the subject of female sexuality was invaluable. Any mistakes in the book are my own.
One
London
April 1830
“You have lost your bloody mind.”
When every member in the reading room of St. George’s Club turned to look at Edwin Barlow, Earl of Blakeborough, he realized how loudly he’d spoken.
The place was more crowded than usual, now that everyone was back in London and night was falling. Gentlemen wanted a few drinks before they plunged into the maelstrom that was the Season.
With a quelling glance that sent the curious onlookers scrambling to mind their own business, Edwin returned his attention to Warren Corry, the Marquess of Knightford. “This plan of yours can’t possibly work.”
“Of course it can.”
Warren was Edwin’s closest friend. Really, his only friend, aside from his sister’s new husband, Jeremy Keane. Edwin didn’t make friends easily, probably because he didn’t suffer fools easily. And society was full of fools.
That was precisely why Edwin, Keane, and Warren had started this club—so they could separate the fools from the fine men. So they could protect the women in their lives from fortune hunters, gamblers, rakehells, and every other variety of scoundrel in London.
In a matter of months, the club had swollen from three to thirty members, all good men eager to share information about which of their peers couldn’t be trusted with women. Until now, Edwin hadn’t realized that so many gentlemen’s female relations needed protecting from sly and not-so-sly attempts on their virtue . . . and fortunes.
Warren was clearly taking that mission very seriously. Perhaps too seriously.
“Clarissa will never agree,” Edwin said.
“She has no choice.”
Edwin narrowed his gaze on Warren. “You actually believe you can convince your sharp-tongued cousin to let me squire her about town during the Season?”
“Only until I return. And why not?” Warren said, though he took a long swig of brandy as if to fortify himself for the fight. “It isn’t as if she hates you.”
“No, indeed,” Edwin said sarcastically. “She only challenges my every remark, ignores my advice, and tweaks my nose incessantly. The last time I saw her, she called me the Blakeborough Bear and said I belonged in the Tower of London menagerie, where ordinary people could be spared my growls.”
Warren burst into laughter. When Edwin lifted an eyebrow at him, Warren’s laugh petered out into a cough. “Sorry, old boy. But you have to admit that’s amusing.”
“Not nearly as amusing as it will be to watch you try to talk her into this,” Edwin drawled as he settled back in his chair.
Rather than giving Warren pause, that made the blasted idiot ask, “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
“The point is moot. She’s not going to agree.”
“Don’t be too sure. You mustn’t take her pokes at you as anything more than her usual mischief-making. You let her exaggerations get under your skin, which only tempts her to plague you more. You should just ignore her when she starts her nonsense.”
Ignore Clarissa? Impossible. He’d spent the past few years trying unsuccessfully to unwrap the mystery that was Lady Clarissa Lindsey. Her barbed wit fired his temper, her provocative smile inflamed him, and her shadowed eyes haunted his sleep. He could no more ignore her than he could ignore a rainbowed sunset . . . or a savage storm.