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

to return and try to insist.”
    “You could shoot him. I gather you waved Ellie’s pistol around.”
    “No jokes. Why on earth does Ellie have a pistol?”
    “We’ve traveled in places where it was wise. Do you think it drove him off?”
    Claris would have liked to say yes, but she shook her head. “I think it suited him to leave then.”
    “To give you time to consider.”
    “As if I’m some weak-minded fool whose convictions re-form by the moment.”
    “Claris, resolution is a virtue, but stubbornness is not. Consider well. The life of an impoverished spinster is not to be cherished.”
    “I’m
content
,” Claris insisted, remembering saying that earlier, before her world had been cast into turmoil. “Or I would be if not threatened.”
    “He can’t force you to the altar.”
    “I thank God for that, but I don’t want to be pestered.”
    “We can’t forbid him to visit the village, but we don’t have to let him into the house or garden.”
    “Who’s going to stop him? He’s a gentleman. Ellie said his clothes were London made. How did she know that?”
    “We’ve spent time in London.”
    Claris rose to pace the herb garden. “Perhaps I could complain to someone, seek protection. The squire . . .” She dismissed that. Squire Callway was no match for Perriam. “Lord Wishart? The Marquess of Ashart!” she exclaimed. “He’d see him off.”
    “And how would you approach such a man?”
    Claris blew out a breath. She’d not be allowed through the door of Cheynings. “I’ve heard of people delivering petitions for help to such men.”
    “To what purpose? What is your complaint? A gentleman has offered you marriage.”
    “And plans to return, even though I forbade it!”
    “When he’s returned a half dozen times you might have a case.”
    “Then what am I to do tomorrow?”
    Athena shrugged. “I could stay at home and stand willing to shoot him. We could bury him in the garden with no one the wiser.”
    “No jokes!” Claris protested.
    But later, sleepless in her bed, she wondered if it had been a joke. Her mysterious grandmother might be well capable of shooting a man.
    She herself had pointed a pistol at him.
    She didn’t regret it, but it was the sort of thing to stir a man’s anger. He might return similarly armed—or even with a magistrate. That made her sit up in panic. It was probably a crime to threaten the son of an earl with a gun.
    She collapsed back down again. Why was this happening to her?
    By what justice were her father’s sins being invoked to torment her?

Chapter6
     
    P erry enjoyed riding, so the three miles to Cheynings restored his mood.
    When he’d set out on this enterprise, he’d intended to take a room at an inn in Woking, but he’d run into Ashart there and been invited to his home. They weren’t close friends, but they’d both lived their adult lives at court and shared many cynical opinions of court and the beau monde.
    Perry had been curious to witness Ashart the husband and father, who seemed improbably fond of rural living. Many said that with a beauty for a wife he had reason to spend time at Cheynings, but a wife was a moveable object.
    Last evening had answered some questions. Ashart had frankly admitted that Cheynings had needed extensive repairs, which had drained his purse. The beau monde was expensive, but rural living was economical and had allowed him to supervise the work.
    It had also been clear that he was enjoying doing so, which was astonishing, even given Genova Ashart’s stunning blond beauty and the charms of an infant daughter who might one day rival her mother. That was no puzzle for his investigation, however.
    He hadn’t told the Asharts the details of his business, only that he needed to visit an old connection of Giles Perriam’s. Now, however, he needed help, so once they’d dined and were enjoying coffee in the drawing room, he told the tale.
    Ashart laughed. “That almost rivals my family’s demented obsessions