Falling for the Marquess (American Heiress Trilogy Book 2)

by Julianne MacLean

  “Will that do the trick?

  “Who’s to say for sure? All I know is that I don’t trust him.” Wentworth stood. “Thank you for the brandy, Rawdon.”

  Seger stood as well. “I’ll show you out.”

  They went to the door where the butler was waiting with the duke’s coat and hat. Wentworth was halfway down the steps outside, almost to his coach, when Seger called out to him. “Wentworth!” The duke stopped and turned.

  “I appreciated the invitation your wife sent—for my family to attend your assembly.”

  A bluebird flew by, then swooped down and perched on the stone wall by the gate.

  “It was our pleasure to welcome you, Rawdon.” Wentworth touched the brim of his top hat and continued toward his coach.

  Seger stood for a moment or two, watching the vehicle drive off.

  The meeting had not gone the way he had expected.

  Finally, he closed the door and returned to his study. All he could think about was Clara and the fact that a scandal had come dangerously close to her shores, no thanks to him. He loathed the idea that he had brought her even the smallest measure of grief or anxiety. She had trusted him with her reputation, and he had let her down.

  Seger sank onto the chair at his desk and stroked his chin. He gazed at the empty grate in the fireplace and let his mind wander where it would. He recalled the taste of Clara’s open mouth when he’d kissed her the night before. The memory of her irresistible sighs when he’d been busy with his hand beneath her skirts brought on an inconvenient surge of arousal that accompanied the heated recollections. Along with that came a wave of regret for what she had suffered today.

  With resolve, Seger decided that he would take care of the scandal. He would see Guysborough, and ascertain what exactly had transpired, then he would ensure the man behaved himself in the future and never so much as looked at Clara again. Then Seger would call on Clara to assure her that all was well.

  But who was he trying to fool?

  He didn’t want to call on her to ease her mind about a scandal. He simply wanted to be in the same room with her. To touch her if possible.

  With some apprehension, he rose from his chair and summoned his butler to have him ready the coach, for he had an important personal matter to attend to.

  Just when Clara thought the day could not possibly provide another surprise, an under butler entered the nursery. Clara was holding John, singing a lullaby.

  “You have a visitor,” he said. “The Marquess of Rawdon.”

  Clara shot a glance at Sophia, who froze.

  “Tell him I’ll be right down,” Clara replied, and the young man took his leave.

  “What’s he doing here?” Sophia asked, picking Liam up off the floor and laying him down in his crib. “James hasn’t even returned yet. We haven’t had a chance to find out what happened.”

  “You don’t think James coerced Lord Rawdon into proposing, do you? Because I will not agree to a forced wedding.”

  “I don’t know.” Sophia took John out of Clara’s arms. “Just go, Clara. Don’t keep him waiting. Offer him tea. I’ll give you a few minutes before I follow.”

  “Thank you. You are the best sister.”

  Clara tidied her hair on the way to the drawing room. Nervous twitters gathered in her belly at the mere thought of seeing Seger again. She stopped and paused outside the drawing room doors, fighting butterflies, then entered.

  The marquess stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back as he looked out. The sunlight shone on his face, illuminating the square cut of his jaw, his full lips and straight nose. All Clara’s senses came alive. Such power he could wield over her, merely by standing there, doing nothing.

  He turned and faced her, and they stared at each other for several sizzling seconds. Excitement swirled in Clara’s belly.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, moving forward at last.

  It was not the sort of question she would pose to a regular caller, but to say anything else to this man—whose hand she had allowed up under her skirts the night before—would be putting on airs, to say the least. They were beyond the usual protocol.

  He spoke matter-of-factly. “Your brother-in-law paid me a visit today.”

  Clara’s stomach careened. What happened between the two men? She couldn’t imagine.

  “I was afraid he might do that,” she said apologetically.

  Clara moved fully into the room but kept the sofa between herself and the marquess. She was afraid that if she were within arms’ reach of him, she would not be able to resist touching him.

  “What did he say?” she asked.

  “He came to warn me not to take any more risks where you are concerned, as any responsible brother-in-law would do. From now on, I may only see you in respectable settings.”

  “That’s all?”

  The marquess sauntered seductively around the sofa. She knew he wasn’t trying to be seductive. He simply couldn’t help it.

  Feeling suddenly breathless, Clara backed up a step.

  Seger stood before her, barely a foot away. “He also informed me that a possible scandal involving both you and me had come to his attention after you received a certain gentleman caller earlier today.”

  Clara’s muscles tensed at the mere mention of what had occurred between her and the Duke of Guysborough. She was still shaken by it. “Did he tell you where things stood? Was he able to clear things up?”

  Seger’s eyebrows drew together with surprise. “You don’t know?”

  “No, James hasn’t come home yet.” Wondering what had happened, she began to feel ill. Perhaps the scandal had already exploded, and she would have no choice but to return to New York on the next ship.

  The expression on Seger’s face softened. “You needn’t worry. It’s been addressed.”

  “By whom? By James, or you?”

  “Both of us. If Guysborough knows what’s good for him, he’ll never speak your name again unless it is to compliment your kindness or your grand sense of morality.”

  Clara held her hand over a lump of dread in her belly. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  In that instant, Clara noticed a drop of blood on his collar. “Oh, I see.”

  Seger saw what she was staring at and glanced down at the blood, too. He tried to rub at it. “I do beg your pardon. I didn’t notice this.” Then he glanced up at her face and his expression softened with understanding. “I’m not generally the violent sort, Clara, but the duke pulled a pistol on me and I had to disarm him.”

  “A pistol!”

  “Don’t worry, it went out the window.”

  “Are you all right?” The image of Seger staring into the barrel of a gun sent her emotions into a rapid spin.

  “I’m fine.”

  “What about the duke? He’s not....” She couldn’t finish.

  “He’s fine, too, though his ego is probably bruised. This blood…. It’s from a bloody nose, that’s all.”

  She decided she did not wish to know any more details concerning his or James’s “conversation” with the duke. The bloody nose was more than enough information.

  Seger looked her up and down. “You are all right, I hope?”

  She nodded.

  “Good.” He reached out a hand, his eyes warm with an open invitation. “Come and sit with me.”

  What could she do but follow? She was charmed. Clara placed her hand in his, and they sat on the sofa, facing each other.

  “I am sorry for what happened with Guysborough,” he said, “and I accept all responsibility. I should not have come to your sister’s assembly. People know what I am, and they are not accepting of me. I should have remained outside your circle.”

  “No. You have honor, Seger. Surely you know that. It was Guysborough who behaved dishonorably.
”

  With a swift glance toward the door to ensure they were alone, Seger raised her hand to his lips and kissed her open palm. Clara tried to maintain her composure, but it was impossible. Seger stirred every passion-filled longing that existed inside of her.

  “I will continue to blame myself for what happened,” he whispered. “I only wish I could make it up to you somehow.”

  He laid soft, open-mouthed kisses on her wrist and she sucked in a breath of arousal. No wonder every woman in London wanted him. His ability to please was addictive. Having experienced his lovemaking skills in the coach, it was now impossible for Clara to forget how he made her feel. How quickly he had become an obsession.

  Slowly, he kissed his way to the inside of her elbow and Clara’s heart thundered in her ears. She trembled at the sheer, unbridled roar of her desires from the sensation of his tongue on the inside of her arm.

  “I’m very sorry for what happened,” he said.

  Her voice was breathless. “You’re quite forgiven, my lord.”

  Just then, Sophia entered and cleared her throat.

  Seger reacted calmly, with the unruffled demeanor of a man who had been caught like this a hundred times before. He sat back, then stood. “Duchess. What a pleasure.”

  Before Sophia had a chance to reply, Mrs. Gunther appeared. Clara—still in a dazed stupor—said a silent thank you that Sophia had arrived first.

  The two ladies entered the room and moved around the sofa to sit across from them in two facing chairs. Sophia’s face was pale. Mrs. Gunther’s chin was high in the air as she glared hotly at Seger. No one said anything for a few seconds until a parlor maid arrived with a tray of tea and scones.

  “May I pour for you, my lord?” Sophia offered with a smile, trying to ease the tension. It would not be eased, however. Not with Mrs. Gunther’s nostrils flaring on the other side of the room.

  All Clara could do was sit quietly and try to quell her racing heart and force the hot, stinging blush from her cheeks. Her body was still heated with an insatiable need for more love play with the marquess. Her mind was besieged.

  She glanced warily at her sister. How long had she been standing there?

  Without batting an eye, Sophia led the conversation into lighter matters. She inquired about the health of Seger’s stepmother and asked polite questions about his home in the country. Mrs. Gunther was grimly silent.

  Ten awkward minutes later, Seger set down his cup and addressed Sophia. “I wonder if you would be so kind, Duchess, as to permit me a moment alone with your sister?”

  Clara gazed at him in shock. His meaning could not have been more clear. Gentlemen did not request private conversations with unmarried ladies in drawing rooms unless they intended to discuss something personally significant.

  Something momentous.

  Something that involved questions that were asked on one knee.

  Had James forced him to do this?

  Heart racing, Clara had to remind herself to breathe. The marquess did not meet her gaze.

  All Seger’s attention was focused on the duchess as he waited for her reply because he wanted everyone out of there.

  “Of course,” she said at last, looking uncharacteristically flustered. “Mrs. Gunther, won’t you join me in the library for a few minutes?”

  The woman refused to move. Her cold gaze darted from the duchess to Seger, then back at the duchess again as if she were struggling for a way to prevent what was about to happen.

  But Seger wasn’t even sure he knew what that was. He was at the mercy of his desires, his unquenchable lust for this alluring young woman who had shattered his ability to stave off emotion. When he was with her, he lost all sense of reason and strength of will, and he was astonished by his malleability. He could not be blasé with her, for this entire experience was fresh and new. He had not known it was possible to want a woman this badly.

  “Mrs. Gunther,” the duchess repeated more forcefully, rising to her feet. Seger rose also.

  The woman gathered her aplomb and finally stood, sending a seething glare in Seger’s direction as she passed by on the way to the door.

  He wondered suddenly what he was going to say next. He gazed down at Clara and saw in her eyes a hopeful but cautious expectation.

  So, there it was. The first step toward the life he had been avoiding for eight years, the life that went beyond superficiality where a woman was concerned. He realized suddenly that a partial reason for his avoidance of it was to punish his stepmother and his late father for what had happened with Daphne. Even though the old marquess was long cold in his grave, Seger had wanted to deprive him of the next heir.

  Now, for the first time, that meant nothing to Seger. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he could not bear the thought of anyone else proposing to Clara Wilson. He wanted her for himself. In his bed. Forever.

  The thought shocked him. He had never meant for Clara—or any woman for that matter—to become so important to him.

  As soon as the duchess and chaperone were gone, Seger sat down again and turned to face Clara. He should end this now...say goodbye, but his mental faculties could not gain a foothold over his lust and need. He wanted Clara. He wanted access to her rare inner beauty, and there was no fighting it. All he could do now was try to say the right things without becoming a man he did not wish to become. A man at the mercy of his emotions.

  Consequently, he searched for bearings, and fell back into the habits that had become the foundation of his existence. He summoned his surface charm and forced a lid on anything deeper.

  Clara’s thoughts were screaming inside her head. What were his intentions? Was she being presumptuous, imagining that he meant to propose?

  “I don’t wish to cause any more scandals,” he said.

  “Then maybe we shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  “But we must be, if I am to say what I wish to say.”

  She had to struggle to keep her voice steady when every nerve in her body was buzzing like an electric current. “And what is that, my lord?”

  Looking relaxed and confident, he smiled. “That I desire you. That I want you.”

  Despite her anxiousness, she somehow managed to return an equally confident smile. “You didn’t need to come all the way over here to tell me that. I already knew it. You made it more than clear to me last night.”

  His brow lifted with amused admiration. “Marry me.”

  Clara’s body seemed to stop functioning. Everything within her went still.

  “Marry you? Just like that? No romantic proposal? No attempt to win me over with a few choice compliments?”

  “You said yourself that you already know how I feel about you, and you don’t seem like the sort of woman who needs to dance around a point before coming straight to it. There is scandal on our heels, and it is certain to catch up with us again if we continue in the direction we are going. I desire you, Clara, and since I am now confined to seeing you only in respectable situations, I will have to make everything respectable, because I do intend to see you. Quite often, in fact. Every night in my bed, if you take my meaning.”

  Clara stood and walked to the window. Her heart was racing, her thoughts swimming. She had not expected a marriage proposal from Seger, at least not this soon. She thought she’d have to employ some clever persuasion tactics to encourage him to reform, and she’d expected that to take some time.

  Then again, she hadn’t expected James to learn all about their secret encounters either and visit the marquess. Nor had she expected the Duke of Guysborough to try and blackmail her into marrying him.

  She faced Seger. “What is the real reason you want to marry me?”

  “The real reason?” He stood also and moved to stand before her at the window. “Because as I said, we are heading for a scandal, and I desire you too much to give you up.”

 
“What do you mean, heading for a scandal? Do you mean the duke’s threat, or something else? Some ambiguous future scandal?”

  “Both. I can’t promise that I’d be able to restrain myself if we were alone again.” He considered that statement, then added with a captivating smile, “Actually, I can promise you that I would not be able to. Next time, you would not walk away a virgin.”

  Clara felt dazed by his suggestion. “My brother-in-law didn’t put you up to this, did he?” she asked. “He didn’t give you a bloody nose, I hope.”

  “No, he did not. In fact, he has no idea I am here, let alone proposing to you. Even if he knew, I’m not entirely sure he would approve.”

  Breathing deeply as she gathered the facts—and her composure—Clara searched for understanding. She needed to know what this was about and how the marquess truly felt about being married to her for the rest of his life.

  “I don’t want a forced marriage,” she said. “I want my husband to be sure that he wants me.”

  “There are no worries there. I am sure.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “I can see you want more from me,” he said. “You want me to pour my heart out to you.”

  Clara saw the reluctance in his eyes and knew that he had already said more and done more than he ever intended to say or do with any woman.

  A sudden thought of all the other women shook her confidence, and she reminded herself what kind of man he was. She told herself it was dangerous to hope for too much.

  Seger moved to the mantel. “I am not a poet, Clara, nor am I inclined to lie to you. On top of the reasons I already gave you, I’ve always known that I must marry eventually. I require an heir, and I would enjoy having children with you. Making them, especially.”

  Even when he was giving her the cold, hard truth, he was delivering more flattery than she’d ever known in her life. He looked at her like he wanted to devour her, and it made her feel weak in the knees. She felt as if he could pull a yes from her lips with a mere smile.

  “So, it is duty,” she managed to say.