Falling for the Marquess (American Heiress Trilogy Book 2)

by Julianne MacLean

  “Only partly.”

  “And desire.”

  “Definitely that. I can’t resist you.”

  She took some pleasure from the compliment, for he was in his own way telling her that she was special. She had done something no other woman had been able to do. She had gotten a proposal out of him.

  “What about the marriage settlement that is sure to be offered?” she asked. “Have you been seeking that all along? Did you somehow manipulate all of this to cause a scandal and force my hand?”

  “Good heavens, no. I have enough money of my own. I don’t dabble in politics, so I dabble in other things. The American stock market for one. I am probably as rich as your father.”

  Clara’s eyebrows lifted. “I had no idea.”

  “Not many people do.”

  She moved away from him to pace around the room. “So, you’re not one of the infamous impoverished English lords? That will certainly surprise the New York newspapermen,” she said with bite. “They don’t seem to believe that any Englishman would many an American for anything other than money.”

  “We will break the mold, then.”

  Clara stared at him for a moment, considering all of it. “What about love?” she finally asked, knowing she was pushing the limits. “Since we’re being honest with each other....”

  If he were unnerved by her question, he didn’t show it. He seemed more amused than anything by her “negotiations.”

  “I wondered if you would bring that up.” He gazed out the window for a moment, then looked directly into her eyes as he spoke. “I won’t lie to you, Clara. You’re an intelligent woman, and you must realize that we barely know each other.”

  “I do.”

  “As I told you last night, I’ve only loved one woman in my life, and it ended catastrophically. I admit I am jaded, but that doesn’t mean our marriage cannot be a success.”

  He was being honest and sensible, admitting that he did not truly love her, and she couldn’t deny that she respected him for that. If he’d told her he loved her, she probably wouldn’t have believed him and would have felt as if she were being tricked or patronized.

  But still, in her deepest heart of hearts, this was not what she wished they were saying to each other right now. She didn’t want to hear about other women from his past or have him mention the only woman he had ever loved. The mere thought of her cut Clara to the quick. She had dreamed of so much more where Seger was concerned. She wanted to be the only woman in his heart and mind, forever and ever.

  “Are you suggesting that you would grow to love me?” she asked.

  A reasonable question that she hated asking. It hurt. It made her feel rejected and humiliated.

  “Possibly.”

  Possibly. Not definitely. The response sank like a cold, hard stone into her belly.

  Would the mere possibility of love be enough? Could she take such a risk with a man like him? What if he only grew bored with her?

  Seger must have recognized the doubts in her eyes, for he strode toward her and spoke with conviction. “I would treat you well, Clara. You would become a marchioness and live here in England near your sister. It would be a life of privilege and grandeur. In addition to that, I desire you and you desire me. Can’t that be enough, at least for now?” He gazed at her for a few intense seconds. “Imagine the pleasure.”

  Oh yes, she could definitely imagine that.

  He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, reveling in the passion that had taken up permanent residence in her heart.

  Holding her face in his hands, he looked into her eyes. “I want to marry you because I desire you. I want you in my bed, and I want no other man to ever touch you but me. Yes, I need a wife and an heir, but this is not about anything as dull as duty, nor is it about money. Believe me. I want you, Clara. Passionately.”

  It was about passion, but not love. Could she live with that? She had wanted love.

  But wait, no, she had not. She had wanted a decent man who would be a good husband and father. A man who would be faithful to her.

  Seger’s heart was decent. She was certain of that—as certain as she could be where any man was concerned. He had always kept her best interests in mind, doing what he could to protect her when she’d ventured outside the safe circle of her proper world. He’d even tried to push her back in. Except for the previous night in his coach, when he had lured her out, but that was because he desired her. Passionately, as he put it.

  Perhaps it would not take much to turn that passion into love.

  But was she certain he could be reformed and become a faithful husband? Or was that simply what she wished? Everything to do with him had been a fantasy from the start. She couldn’t be sure where the fantasy ended and reality began.

  He was very passionate. That much she knew. He enjoyed physical pleasure with women. Would she be enough for him? Would she be able to keep him satisfied for the rest of their lives?

  He kissed her again and she melted in his arms. “Say yes, Clara.”

  Senses blazing, she returned the kiss with abandon. Then, before she realized what she was saying, she blurted out, “Would you be faithful to me?”

  This, she realized, was the final question that would determine her future.

  He pulled back to look at her. For a long moment he considered her question while her stomach turned over with a sickening fear that his answer would be no. Or that he would say yes, and she would know he was lying.

  “That’s a difficult question. I don’t have a crystal ball.”

  She wasn’t satisfied. “Answer the question, Seger.”

  His shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh that held a note of surrender. “I would try to be.”

  Clara knew it was as honest an answer as she would ever get from any man. He was right about the crystal ball. No matter who she married, there could never be any guarantees. Marriage, by nature, was a leap of faith for everyone.

  He kissed her again and she gave herself over to the passion, for that was the one thing she knew they shared, the one thing she trusted. Then she let that passion carry her to a decision.

  Clara smiled up at him and said, “I believe, my lord, that you have secured yourself a wife.”

  Chapter 12

  Dear Clara,

  You said in your last letter that everything was a terrible mess. I hope things have improved. Just remember, don’t do anything hasty. Be careful in your decisions. Be sure to listen to the advice of Sophia and James. They have your best interests at heart....

  Adele

  Clara, Sophia, James, and Mrs. Gunther gathered in the drawing room after Seger left. The tea was now cold, but the parlor maid had not been allowed in to take the tray away.

  “Sophia,” Mrs. Gunther said, as if Clara were not in the room, “you must realize the mistake your sister is making. The Duke of Guysborough proposed first. He is the wiser choice. He outranks the marquess, not to mention the fact that he is respected by society, where the marquess is not even invited into it.”

  James strode to the mantel. “May I remind you of the old adage, not to judge a book by its cover?”

  “How else can one judge it,” she asked, “when appearances are everything?”

  “Not to me,” Clara said.

  “Or me,” Sophia added, gazing up at her husband, who smiled down at her.

  “You have lost your senses, all of you,” Mrs. Gunther said. “Your Grace, you must do something. The ladies are smitten simply because the marquess is a handsome man. They must be made to understand.”

  Hands behind his back, James moved to stand behind his wife’s chair. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I believe, madam, the only one here who must be made to understand anything is you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I mean n
o offense, Mrs. Gunther, but you are not in full possession of the facts, and it is time someone enlightened you. The duke acted in a most ungentlemanly manner and he threatened to destroy Clara’s reputation if she did not accept his proposal. There. Now may we dispense with the arguments?”

  Mrs. Gunther stared blankly at Clara and Sophia. “Is this true?”

  “Yes,” Sophia replied. “He knew about Clara attending the wrong ball that first night. He threatened to use it against her.”

  “But did he actually threaten it,” Mrs. Gunther asked, “or merely suggest that she would be better off avoiding the possibility that such a thing might get out?”

  “It was a clear threat,” Clara said firmly.

  Mrs. Gunther’s voice took on a desperate tone. “But he is the Duke of Guysborough. You should not have crossed him by refusing him, Clara.”

  Everyone, including James, gaped at Mrs. Gunther. “Are you saying I should have accepted his proposal, regardless of his behavior?”

  “His behavior? He is not the one with a scandalous past, Clara.”

  Her meaning was the same. Make a mistake and pay the price. For the rest of your life.

  James held up a hand. “I believe this discussion is over. Clara has made up her mind.”

  “But Your Grace, the duke is.... Well, he’s a duke.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?”

  She shifted in her chair. “Meaning Clara would be a duchess. Imagine, two American duchesses, and sisters! It is too good an opportunity to—”

  James narrowed his gaze at her. “You would have Clara marry a man who threatened to publicly destroy her?”

  “No one would ever have to know about that.”

  “But I would know!” Clara practically shouted. “I wish to be happy, Mrs. Gunther, and I would not be happy with the Duke of Guysborough.”

  The older woman’s cheeks flushed with smug condescension. “Why not? Because he is not as handsome as the marquess? Mark my words, Clara, a handsome face will not keep you happy when your husband is cavorting with other women right under your nose.”

  Clara bristled.

  James held up a hand again to hush everyone. He turned toward Mrs. Gunther. “I believe, madam, that your duty to my sister-in-law has been fulfilled.”

  Though she spoke to James, Mrs. Gunther turned her admonishing gaze toward Clara. “She is making a grave mistake, Your Grace.”

  “I do thank you for your attendance to her,” he added, “but perhaps it is time you returned to America.”

  Mrs. Gunther rose from her chair and smoothed her hands over her skirt. “If you will excuse me, I am suddenly in need of a rest. I will be in my boudoir.” She walked out with her nose pushed high in the air.

  Clara sat in silence staring after her chaperone and felt a great weight lift from her shoulders.

  After Seger broke the news of his engagement to his stepmother, he retired to his study and realized that the expression on her face had been the same as it had been eight years ago when he’d told her he intended to marry a merchant’s penniless daughter.

  Only Clara wasn’t penniless. She was, however, American and not “one of them.”

  After Quintina realized that she would not be able to change Seger’s mind, she made a point of mentioning that at least with an American bride, their vulgar in-laws would remain on the other side of the Atlantic and would not be dropping by for tea.

  Seger sat down at his desk and realized with some chagrin that he was experiencing a slightly perverse pleasure from her exasperation.

  A knock sounded at his door just then. “Come in.”

  Quintina entered. She strode all the way in and stopped before him with her hands clasped in front of her as if she were nervous.

  “Yes, Quintina, what is it?”

  She hesitated a moment. “I believe, Seger, that I...I would like to invite your fiancée as well as the Duke and Duchess of Wentworth to dine with us one evening next week.”

  Seger leaned back in his chair and stared. “Pardon me?”

  “You heard me the first time. You’re just making me repeat it to punish me further.”

  “None of this is intended to punish you,” he replied. “I want to marry Clara Wilson because she delights me. It’s as simple as that.”

  She nodded quickly, almost as if she needed to hush him, as if she did not wish to hear any more explanations of that nature. “Either way, if we are going to be related, we must come to know these people.”

  He supposed it didn’t hurt that Clara’s sister was a duchess. American or not, a duchess was a duchess. That was likely what was behind this.

  Well, he’d take it. “Magnificent. Send the invitation first thing in the morning.”

  “Very well.” She turned to leave but stopped at the door. “And Seger. Congratulations.”

  He gazed with surprise at his stepmother, feeling uneasy at her remark, for he knew it was taking every bit of willpower she possessed just to speak the words.

  “Thank you,” he replied, then returned to his correspondence.

  Quintina walked out of her stepson’s study and closed the door behind her. She met Gillian in the hall and stopped abruptly. The girl’s eyes were red and puffy. She was clutching a handkerchief.

  Quintina felt her heart throb painfully in her chest.

  “Well?” Gillian asked in a shaky voice.

  Quintina put her arm around her distraught niece and led her toward her boudoir. “Don’t worry, my dear. Dry your eyes. I will handle this. I have an English acquaintance—a woman currently abroad in America. She will be a useful connection in New York. Everything will work out just fine. You’ll see. Now let us go and fix your hair. From now on, you must always look your best. Come, we will talk about what you will need to do next.”

  Clara entered Rawdon House with James and Sophia, and handed her cloak over to the butler. She looked up at the crystal chandelier over her head in the entryway, and the numerous, large family portraits that lined the wall up the wide, carpeted staircase. It was difficult to believe this was going to be her home one day, when she became Seger’s wife.

  Never in her life had she imagined such a future for herself, certainly not when she was a child living in Wisconsin, where stories of princes and dukes and duchesses with coronets on their heads were just fairy tales.

  Then, after what had occurred two years ago just after Sophia had married James, Clara believed her future was doomed forever. She never expected to marry a man she adored. She’d expected to have very little choice in the matter and consider herself lucky if anyone was willing to take her on. Or she had expected not to marry at all.

  But two years had passed, and that particular time in her life seemed like a distant memory. She could barely even picture Gordon’s face in her mind. Thank goodness she had been able to move on.

  Clara walked with Sophia and James upstairs to the drawing room. She continued to gaze at the portraits on the second floor. Everyone was very grand. Her belly quivered suddenly at the daunting notion of becoming part of a family such as this.

  She followed the butler toward the double doors of the drawing room and tried not to feel intimidated. Instead, she focused on the simple fact that in the very near future, she would share a bed with Seger and it would all be perfectly respectable.

  That was the best part in all this. She would not need to worry about being ruined. In fact, it would be her duty to let him “ruin” her. She could hardly wait.

  The butler showed them into the drawing room where Lady Rawdon stood by the window, and her niece, who Clara remembered from the assembly, sat by the fireplace. She stood, however, when they all walked in.

  “Your Grace,” Lady Rawdon said, turning toward James with a warm smile. She approached and greeted each of them, then invited them to sit down.

  The woman’s grac
ious manner and her amiable welcome caused a whole slew of Clara’s apprehensions to fall away. She found herself smiling in return as she shook hands with Gillian, realizing that this shy young woman was her future cousin by marriage.

  Just then, Seger appeared in the doorway. Clara’s heart tumbled over itself at the mere sight of him looking so handsome in the light from a wall sconce next to him. He wore a formal black jacket and white waistcoat. His face was pure perfection—all fine lines and classical elegance. But beyond his physical beauty, he possessed a free and open disposition that was such a large part of his extraordinary charisma. In this era of restraint and sexual repression, he was quite the opposite. He exuded an offer of pleasure and laughter.

  That, perhaps, was what made people uncomfortable around him. He drew attention. He was extreme in his pursuit of gratification, and he made women think lustful thoughts. Perhaps they worried that it showed. Perhaps they felt their cheeks flushing with desires for this, that, and everything, and they feared the whole world would know it.

  Seger’s gaze fell upon her, and he smiled. “Clara.”

  All her senses came alive at the husky sound of his voice and the fierce intensity in his eyes as he entered and approached her, kissed her hand, then greeted James and Sophia. He was so suave and irresistible that he took her breath away.

  Oh, she hoped Mrs. Gunther had been wrong about him. Clara prayed she was not making a serious mistake, agreeing to marry a man who would have the power to break her heart into a million pieces, because she adored him so much and he was not so ardent in his affections.

  He had told her he would try to be faithful. Try.

  How hard would he try?

  A footman entered the room and brought a tray of champagne around. Clara gratefully accepted a glass.

  They all stood and talked about wedding plans and about Clara’s family: when they would be able to travel to London, where Clara planned to purchase her wedding gown, and other topics related to the upcoming nuptials.

  “Had they set a date yet?” someone asked. “Why not next spring?” Lady Rawdon suggested. “Sooner,” Seger had replied, with a seductive, knowing glance in Clara’s direction.