Silk Is For Seduction Read Online Free PDF Page A

hadn’t.”
    “He’s been abroad for three years,” Harry said. “The situation begins to look a little ridiculous, even to me. Either he means to marry you or he doesn’t. Either he wants to live abroad or he wants to live in England. I think he’s had time enough to make up his mind.”
    She blinked. Three years? It hadn’t seemed so long. She’d spent the first of those years grieving for her grandmother, whom she’d adored. She hadn’t had the heart to make her debut then. And that year and those following had been filled with Clevedon’s wonderful letters.
    “I didn’t realize it was so long,” she said. “He writes so faithfully, it seems as though he’s here.” She’d been writing to him since she first learned to scrawl such inanities as “I hope this finds you well. How do you like school? I am learning French. It is difficult. What are you learning?” Even as a boy, he’d been a delightful correspondent. He was a keen observer, and he had a natural gift for description as well as a wicked wit. She knew him very well, better than most knew him, but that was mainly through letters.
    It dawned on her now that they hadn’t spent much time together. While she’d been in the schoolroom, he’d been away at school, then university. By the time she’d entered Society, he’d gone abroad.
    “I daresay he didn’t realize it, either,” Harry said. “When I asked him straight out what he was about, he laughed, and said I did well to come. He said he supposed he might have returned sooner, but your letters told him you were enjoying being the most sought-after girl in London Society, and he didn’t like to spoil your fun.”
    She hadn’t wanted to spoil his, either. His had not been a pleasant childhood. He’d lost father, mother, and sister in the course of a year. Papa meant to be a kind guardian, but he had very strict ideas about Duty and Responsibility, and Clevedon, unlike Clara’s brothers, had tried to live up to his standards.
    When Clevedon and Harry had decided to go abroad, she’d been glad for them. Harry would acquire some culture, and Clevedon, away from Papa, would find himself.
    “He ought not to come home before he’s quite ready,” she said.
    Harry’s black eyebrows went up. “Are you not quite ready?”
    “Don’t be absurd.” Of course she’d be happy to have Clevedon back. She loved him. She’d loved him since she was a little girl.
    “You needn’t worry about being hurried to the altar,” Harry said. “I suggested he wait until the end of May. That will give your beaux plenty of time to kill themselves or go into exile in Italy or some such or quietly expire of despair. Then I recommended he give you another month to get used to having his hulking great carcass about. That will take you to the end of the Season, at which point I suggested a beautifully worded formal offer of marriage, with many protestations of undying affection, accompanied by a prodigious great diamond ring.”
    “Harry, you’re ridiculous.”
    “Am I? He thought it was an excellent idea—and we celebrated with three or four or five or six bottles of champagne, as I recollect.”
    Paris
    15 April
     
    S eduction was a game Clevedon very much enjoyed. He relished the pursuit as much—and lately, more—than the conquest. Chasing Madame Noirot promised to be a more amusing game than usual.
    That would make for a change and a pleasant finish to his sojourn abroad. He wasn’t looking forward to returning to England and his responsibilities, but it was time. Paris had begun to lose its luster, and without Longmore’s entertaining company, he foresaw no joy in wandering the Continent again.
    He’d planned to go to Longchamp, in any event, to observe, in order to write Clara an entertaining account of it. He still owed her an account of the opera—but never mind. Longchamp would provide richer fodder for his wit.
    The annual promenade in the Champs Élysées and the Bois de Boulogne