"Clair," Arlene warned, shaking her head. "Not another one of your plans. Don't do anything you'll regret. You hold strong affection for the baron and he, I sense, for you."
Clair pursed her lips, steering the conversation away from her plotting. It was a brilliant plan, as plans went, but knowing Arlene as well as she did, she knew her good friend would try and talk her out of it. She wrinkled her forehead in frustration. Arlene never appeared to notice how truly inspired Clair's plans were. Still, Arlene was a good, loyal friend, even if she was a tad slow at some things.
"You know, I believe Great-aunt Abby is right about men. She said that they always bring indigestion and insomnia into a lady's life while they are courting, while she waits for the gentleman to call. Then, after, they bring on crying jags and plate-throwing. I would be better off without Ian Huntsley darkening my doorstep." But even as Clair said the words of pique, her inner voice was crying out, "No!"
"Great-aunt Abby has a point. But think how bloody boring life would be without them," Arlene half-teased.
Clair sighed. Arlene was right. Her life had been really quite fine before Ian entered the picture with his debonair good looks, but Clair was still afraid that if he left, everything would be a shadow of its former self. Somehow the wretch had wriggled and squirmed his way into her heart. The worm! He really was a bad apple and deserved her Plan B, The Sting, even if Plan B included Asher, the proverbial fruit of the poisoned tree.
But beggars couldn't be choosers. She knew she had little choice but to pretend to have a tendresse for the Earl of Wolverton. She hoped it would drive Ian crazy with jealousy, and pay him back for his villainous lie. Her brilliant plan also would give her time alone with the earl to gather information. It was an inspired campaign, Plan B. And Clair was highly anxious to put it into play.
"You haven't seen the Earl of Wolverton here tonight have you?" she asked her friend slyly. "I've been searching for him, but nothing so far."
Arlene paled. "So that's your intention?" she gasped. "Gads, Clair. It will get you maimed or dead or even worse. You'll end up all furry once a month." She shuddered. "If that happens, I have to admit it will put a crimp in our friendship. Mother will never allow me around wolves, even if one of them happens to be my best friend."
Clair rolled her eyes. "Do calm yourself, Arlene. I am only going to flirt with the earl a little and make Ian jealous," she explained as she pushed Arlene forward and away from the ferns. "Come on, let's see if I can find out if the earl has arrived."
Out in the main room, Ian impatiently shifted his feet, his eyes never leaving the area where Clair had disappeared. He scowled. Besides ignoring him, the little imp was hiding. Yes, today was a very unlucky day, he ruminated darkly. Very unlucky indeed. It was in this sour mood that his cousin found him.
"You look deuced down in the mouth, laddie," Galen professed. He joined Ian in holding up the wall. "I take it you're not still moping about the old lady beating you. Although, for a noted Corinthian such as yourself, I guess it would be a trifle humiliating." He grinned at Ian's expression and added, "You could always have popped her cork."
"Go away," Ian snapped.
"No can do. Misery loves company."
"I am fine by myself," Ian retorted stiffly.
"Aye, I can see that," his cousin said sarcastically. He glanced around the room. "You stand here in a black funk, your expression so forbidding that no one but me will dare come near you."
He gestured at several ladies standing nearby with hopeful expressions. "They are just waiting for a smile to come and lift that woebegone expression off your ugly mug."
Ian snorted derisively. "Just what I want—more women. I have enough trouble with the one."
"Ah. The light dawns. You are having a Clair problem, I take it. What has the lass done now—besides hiding in wardrobe closets, chasing vampires, stalking supposed werewolves, and driving you clear around the bend?"
"What else? The woman wishes me to the Devil."
Galen studied him then dryly commented, "A feat you have accomplished at least a dozen times if I recall." Pulling on his cravat, he added, "Damn, if you don't always find your way back."
"Very amusing." Ian ignored his cousin. His attention focused on Clair, for he saw her emerge from behind some ferns and flutter her eyelashes at some young fop. His jaw tightened. He knew Clair never fluttered her eyelashes. At least not at him. "Why on earth do we need women anyway?" he asked.
Galen glanced over at Clair. "To bed them, silly. Not to mention the continuation of the species."
"She won't let me within ten feet of her," Ian complained sourly.
"They also smell quite nice. I believe Clair smells of something fresh. Pinecones in winter, maybe," Galen suggested.
Ian glowered at him. "What are you doing sniffing about her?"
"Really, coz, take hold of yourself. Clair is a fine figure of a lass, but she is too much Frankenstein for me. If I ever do decide to take a leg-shackle, it would be someone more biddable, someone who would cater to my every need, who would sit quietly at home and raise my bairns. Not a Clair-type at all. I want someone a little less of a romp and, most importantly, devoid of a lineage peppered with lunatics."
"I've said nothing of marriage. You know how I feel about that estate. Watching one's mother nearly grieve herself to death over one's father tends to make one extremely cautious. Besides, how would Clair ever fit in with our family?"
Galen tested the waters. "She's a Frankenstein. She has that indomitable spirit." He was pretty sure his cousin was in so deep as to be drowning. He could see that Ian was in love with Clair Frankenstein. In some ways that was a good thing, in other ways it seemed very, very bad.
Ian suddenly stiffened. Asher had entered the ballroom. Noticing his cousin's distraction, Galen turned towards the door.
"I see Asher is doing the rounds. But why is he here? He despises routs."
"Clair," Ian explained in a growl. "Bloody hell!" He watched Asher approach Clair, a dazzling false smile on the man's face. "I should have killed him when I had the chance!" he snarled.
"My, coz, you do love to live dangerously." Galen thoughtfully watched the situation unfold while his cousin cursed.
With his usual savoir faire, the Earl of Wolverton strolled toward Clair, a pretentious and predatory air about him. Upon reaching her and her friend Arlene, Asher bowed, seduction clearly on his devious mind.
"Bloody hell!" was Ian's only comment. He watched with glittering eyes and a fierce expression.
Yes, Galen decided. The fat was in the fire. Ian was clearly in love, and Asher, the seducer of many a fair maid, was interested in the same bit of woman.
The Best-laid Plans of Monsters and Men
"How you look, Miss Frankenstein. 'She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies,'" Asher quoted, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. "You are absolutely ravishing." Then, doing the pretty, he turned to compliment her friend. "And you, Miss Garwood, are delightful."
Arlene blushed, enchanted despite her fear of the earl. He was such a libertine, with such a wicked reputation. That was enough to put a blush on any innocent maid, especially when said earl was also reputedly the Wolf man of London. Clair raised a delicate brow.
Noting her poised coolness, Asher added, "Miss Frankenstein, I feel I owe you an apology for my less than gentlemanly remarks the other night."
Mischievously Clair quipped, "The Earl of Wolverton is apologizing? I feel the earth on its axis spinning to a halt. I fear the Elgin marbles will crumble to dust. Ah, St. Peter must surely be turning over in his grave." Smiling, she patted his arm with her fan and gave him a come-hither look.