He read it again. “What the bloody hell?”
Seger turned it over, looking for a clue about who would send such a thing, but there was nothing to reveal who had written it.
Perhaps it was a scandalmonger who had read about their marriage in the newspapers and wished to create havoc.
He flipped it over again. You’re not the first.
Of course he was the first. He knew he was. He had made love to Clara a week ago and she had been a virgin. There was no doubt about that.
But then, what the hell was the person referring to, and what embezzlement?
Seger rose from his chair and walked to the window. Looking out at the storm, he made a fist and tapped it a few times against the dark oak frame. They were to be married that day. In three hours to be exact.
He felt an urgent need to know the facts behind this note before he said “I do.”
A half hour later, he was stepping out of his coach in front of Wentworth House and dashing through the cold, hard rain to the door. He noticed the look of concern on the butler’s face when he informed him that he wished to speak to Miss Wilson but paid it no heed. He followed the butler upstairs to the drawing room, where he had to wait a significant number of minutes before Clara appeared.
Finally, she walked in wearing a simple green morning dress. Her hair was elegantly adorned with pearls and white flowers and combs that sparkled.
He saw the apprehensive expression on her face, watched her wring her hands together in front of her, and regretted coming there unexpectedly and in a panic. He was surely causing her great distress. She probably feared he was about to call everything off.
“You look lovely,” he said, crossing the room to take her hands in his, kissing them and hopefully easing her mind.
She spoke with uncertainty. “Thank you. Why are you here?”
He tried to convey warmth with his voice and expression, for he did not wish to cause her any further anxiety. Surely a woman’s wedding day was filled with enough anxiety as it was, without the groom barging into the bride’s house two hours before the ceremony to ask accusing questions. He would try not to let it sound that way, at least until he knew the particulars.
“I received a telegram this morning from someone in America, but it was anonymous. I wanted to ask you about it. The sender mentioned an embezzlement. He suggested you were not being entirely honest with me.”
Clara felt her heart go thump inside her chest. All she could do was stare bewildered at her fiancé and wonder how and why this telegram had come to him today at the worst possible time.
She had told Seger about Gordon proposing to her, but she had not told him everything. She had not explained all the details and complexities. Now she wished she had.
Looking back on it, however, there had never been an opportunity to bring it up. After Seger proposed, she thought she could tell him later, when it would hardly matter.
It hardly mattered now, she tried to tell herself. The embezzlement had nothing to do with her. She had known nothing about it. She was merely an innocent bystander.
She would tell Seger that.
Clara sat down on the sofa. “You remember the man I told you about? The man who proposed to me two years ago?”
Seger remained standing. His expression was calm. “Yes.”
Clara’s heart began to pound faster. “Well, the reason I didn’t marry him was because…he was arrested for theft and embezzlement.”
Seger stood motionless, staring down at her. She gazed into his eyes. He didn’t seem angry. He didn’t seem anything.
“It’s a rather strange story, actually,” she said with a smile, trying to keep things light.
She hoped he would be understanding about this. He, of all people in the world, should be. He—the king of scarlet pasts....
“Tell me.”
She nodded and complied. “His name was Gordon Tucker, and when he proposed, my father refused to let me marry him. I told Gordon I would marry him anyway, despite my parents’ wishes, but he knew he could never afford to take me away, so he stole from his employer. I assure you, I knew nothing about that. All I knew was that he had somehow managed to pay for our passage to Europe. He told me he was in possession of enough savings to tide us over until he could find work when we got there. We were going to get married on board the ship. I suppose he thought that once we were married, Father would have no choice but to provide us with an allowance.”
Seger’s eyebrows drew together, and for the first time, she saw mild anger in his face. “Did you love this man? You must have felt very passionate if you were willing to run off with him.”
She bowed her head and paused a moment before answering. She had been enamored with Gordon, certainly. He was handsome and he knew how to charm her, how to manipulate her, but she had never been in love with him. Not in the deeper sense. “No,” she answered at last.
“How can I be sure you are telling me the truth? The telegram warned me that you could be….”
Clara looked up. “That I could be what?”
He paused a moment before speaking candidly. “It said you were a liar.”
A lump rose up in Clara’s throat. “No, that’s not true. Please, Seger. You need to believe me when I tell you that I was terrified getting on the ship with him, and I wept with relief when my father came to take me home. When I said yes to Gordon’s proposal, I only wanted to escape the pressure.”
“The pressure to marry well,” Seger said, needing clarification.
“Yes.”
He took a moment to consider this, while she sat helplessly, not knowing what to say, wishing she knew what was going on inside his head. Was he furious with her? Did he hate her?
Or was he hurt?
“So, you didn’t love him,” Seger said, beginning to pace. “Did you desire him? He didn’t take your virginity, but did you ever let him touch you?”
The question unnerved her. It was clear that for Seger, desire was paramount.
“Yes, I did.”
He stared at her for a moment, then turned toward the window. “Where is this man now?”
“He went to prison for the embezzlement.”
Seger faced her again. “Prison? Good God. There was a trial? Were you involved in the scandal?”
“No, my father took care of that. I was removed from the situation.”
Seger’s broad shoulders rose and fell. He looked fatigued. “So, there was much more to this than what you told me at your sister’s assembly. This is very serious, Clara. You should not have kept it from me.”
She saw the disappointment in his eyes and wished more than anything that she had told him about it sooner. She hadn’t set out to keep a secret from him, but she’d considered it to be a stain on her character and she had feared that no one would ever want her if they knew. She had therefore pushed it from her mind. Perhaps it had been her way of pretending—at least to herself—that it hadn’t happened, because she regretted it terribly.
“I couldn’t tell you at first,” she said. “I barely knew you. It’s not something I would ever talk about with a stranger. Then, when things started to progress between us, I simply forgot about it when we were together.”
“Forgot about it.” His tone suggested he didn’t believe her. Then he faced the window again. “Have you told me everything?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? There is nothing else I should know about? Because whoever sent this telegram knows about what happened, and if you are guilty in any way....”
“I am not guilty.”
“You’re telling the truth?”
“Yes!”
Clara wondered again if he was hurt. If he was, he certainly wasn’t showing it. He was focusing on the facts, not his feelings. She should not be surprised.
“Who do you think would ha
ve sent this?” he asked. “And why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Perhaps it was your jilted lover.”
“Perhaps.” She hated to hear him use the word lover to describe another man.
Seger paced about the room, considering everything. “Do you realize that in my position, I would be perfectly justified to call off our wedding?”
His coarse words cut painfully into her heart. She nodded.
“But we have already made love,” he continued, “and you were, as it turned out, a virgin.” He paced the room, thinking for a long time.
Clara waited nervously for him to make a decision. What would it be? He had been hurt once before by a woman. Perhaps he felt defeated again. Powerless. Perhaps he was disappointed in Clara and would not be able to forgive her. Or maybe this turn of events had spooked him and reminded him of why he had spent the past eight years avoiding marriage.
This was torture.
At last, he stopped pacing. “I believe we are tied to each other,” he said.
Clara closed her eyes. Of course, that was how he would see this—as if she had roped and bound him and he could no longer get away. He would not speak of hurt feelings or disappointments. He would speak only of the necessity of duty and obligation.
“It was not my intention to trap you,” she said. “And you’re free to go if you want to. I won’t hold you to your proposal.” It was her pride talking because the last thing she wanted was to lose him.
He did not respond to that. He merely went on as if she had not spoken. “I am hardly in the position to call the kettle black, so we will be married as planned. And I hope that this matter will not arise again after today, and that whoever sent this telegram will let it die. If not, and there is a scandal, then I will deal with it.”
“I don’t wish to be a problem you have to deal with,” she said.
“Scandal is rarely a problem for me. I’ve learned that one can be perfectly happy outside of society. Sometimes I wonder why I ever wanted to get back in. Oh, yes. Because of desire.”
And now because of obligation. Clara’s mood sank.
He came around the sofa and stared down at her with cool, detached eyes. “We must simply put this behind us, Clara. You are a beautiful woman and I still desire you.”
Was that all? A basic physical attraction? Had this conversation spoiled their chances for anything deeper?
She felt as if she had taken one step forward with Seger—they were getting married after all—but two steps back as far as true intimacy was concerned.
Finally, a small fragment of affection found its way back into his eyes, and he kissed her hand. “I will see you in a few hours?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
With that, and nothing more, he walked out, leaving Clara feeling as if she knew him less now than she had the first time she’d met him.
Chapter 15
“I cannot believe he is going through with it,” Quintina said to Gillian in the carriage on the way to the church. “What in the world did she say to him to prevent him from calling it off?”
Gillian gazed listlessly out the rain-soaked window. “Maybe she lied.”
“We can only hope. If she did, there might be a chance for an annulment. He could claim fraudulent misrepresentation or something of that nature.”
Gillian turned to her. “How do you know about that sort of thing, Auntie?”
Quintina’s eyes bored into Gillian’s. “I’ve been reading up on it, my dear, trying to find ways to shift things in our favor. The last time this happened, Henry—God rest his soul—had used an iron fist to stop Seger’s marriage, but I don’t have that option. Seger is the marquess now and he has an iron will of his own. We must be more conniving and move him to end it himself. Believe me, if there is any way to terminate this, I will find it. I am not one to give up hope.”
“But he is going to marry her today, Auntie. After that, there won’t be any hope.”
Quintina gazed at her niece, saw the pained look in her eye, and remembered the day Susan had died. A sickness had spread through her body, and for weeks leading up to the end, it caused her excruciating pain that made her writhe on the bed. Quintina had found it difficult to stay with her, for it was too horrific to watch. Grotesque, really. She had not been there when Susan died, though Susan, her twin, had asked for her repeatedly.
Quintina still felt guilty about that.
At least Gillian had been there at her mother’s side the entire time, waiting, praying, and hoping. She had been dutiful to the end.
There was such a desolate finality in death, Quintina thought as she watched her niece stare out the window at the passing traffic. No wonder the girl found it difficult to imagine happiness now.
Quintina squeezed Gillian’s hand. “Do not despair. This is happening very quickly, and a man who marries in haste often finds himself nursing regrets later on. Fortunately for us, Seger is not the type to worry about divorce scandals. I believe he would be the first to leap on an opportunity for freedom if he is not happy.” She leaned back and pulled on her gloves. “We must hope there won’t be any children right away. That would only complicate things.”
“What are you saying, Auntie?”
“I’m saying that even if he does marry the American today, it doesn’t mean he will remain married to her. I know, it sounds scandalous to even suggest that there should be a divorce in our family, but I cannot bear to see you hurt. You have been hurt enough, with your dear mother departing this world and your father nothing but a cruel brute, God rest his putrid soul. Your mother was my twin, and you are as precious to me as my own daughter. You deserve to get what you want, Gillian, and you have wanted Seger all your life.”
“I’ve more than wanted him, Auntie. I’ve loved him.” The carriage swayed back and forth and rumbled over the bumpy cobblestones. Gillian smiled at Quintina. “Do you remember when I was twelve, and I fell in the courtyard at Rawdon Manor and cut my knee?”
Quintina nodded, her heart squeezing with sympathy as she recalled that cloudy afternoon.
“I remember how badly it hurt and that I couldn’t get up, and I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t because I was afraid Father would find out. He always got so angry when I cried. Then Seger appeared out of nowhere and scooped me up in his arms and carried me inside. I buried my face in his coat collar, and he said, ‘Don’t worry, Gillian, I’ve got you. You’ll be fine,’ and I burst into tears. Nothing ever felt so good as to cry that day. My knee was throbbing, and all I could think about was how wonderful Seger was, saying to me, ‘There, there now,’ and rubbing his cheek against the top of my head.”
“Then he returned to check on you that afternoon,” Quintina added, encouraging Gillian to continue.
“Yes, and that’s when I fell in love. No one knows what he’s really like, Auntie. Not like I do. I know the real Seger. Society has always judged him wrongly and most unfairly.”
Quintina remembered that day very well. That’s when the seed had been planted, and it had grown into something far too substantial to be ripped from its roots now. Especially by an American.
Straightening her shoulders, Quintina spoke with fresh resolve. “This wedding is impulsive for both of them. There is room to maneuver and to manipulate the situation. We will all be living together in the same house very soon, and I for one will not simply hand the reins over to a vulgar, opportunistic foreigner. She has no heart invested in this marriage, while you have half of your lifetime invested in loving Seger, deeply and truly. It is not fair, and we will do what is necessary to find a way around this obstacle. You will have him. It won’t be difficult. With all that we know about that woman and her past, we will find a way to put an end to this.”
He should not be troubled, Seger told himself, as he spoke his marriage vows in front of the reverend and the small number
of guests. Clara simply had a blemish in her past, which was nothing compared to the complete discoloration of his own tainted history. He should think of it as further proof that they were a good match. She was a kindred spirit, so to speak. She was by nature impulsive and somewhat rebellious toward social restrictions, even though, since her near brush with scandal, she had tried to walk the straight and narrow.
He had witnessed that wild impulsiveness in bed when she had pleaded with him to make love to her. He had given in and reveled in her passion.
So, what was the problem now? he wondered, resisting the urge to rub the tense muscles at the back of his neck. Why did he not feel elated on this day when he was securing a beautiful, spirited woman as his bedmate, and he was removing the cloud of duty that had hung over his head his entire life—the duty to marry and produce an heir and continue his line.
He should be relieved. He should feel that a great weight had lifted, but he did not. He felt only apprehension.
Perhaps it was because he was entering into a permanent relationship with a complicated woman, and he would have to deal not only with the problems of life, but with her resulting emotions.
He’d dealt with a problem that morning, and it had not been a pleasant discussion. He hadn’t enjoyed asking her those questions. He’d tried to be impartial, and had wanted the same from her in return, for he had only once let himself near a woman’s emotions, and in doing so, he had fallen in love. Then he had been devastated beyond words when it came to an end.
No, he said to himself as he slipped the ring on his bride’s slender finger. He should not feel apprehension or any other convoluted emotion. This was all very simple. Clara had made a mistake once, and almost married a swindler. She did not care for the man, and it was ancient history. He knew about it now, and he would very quickly forget that.
In fact, he should try to see this as a good thing. Clara’s secret had put some distance between them. They did not really know each other, and this morning that truth had been brightly illuminated.
Falling for the Marquess (American Heiress Trilogy Book 2) Page 18