Clara regarded him warily.
“I believe,” he said, “that we’ve been getting to know each other better. Do you agree?”
She gazed up at him with parted lips. “I suppose.”
Where was this coming from? She wished she could accept it as a simple move toward a deeper intimacy between them, but knowing his previous lifestyle, his reckless desire for women—and considering everything that had occurred that day—how could she help but have doubts?
“You don’t feel that you have given up a great deal?” she asked. “Your whole way of life?”
Assuming that he had actually given it up.
Seger inched closer and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “What I gave up cannot compare to what I have gained.”
He kissed her again, more deeply this time, and despite her desire to hash things out with her husband, Clara couldn’t help but revel in the warmth of his kiss. All that mattered when he touched her was that he continued to touch her, with his masterful hands and his irresistible talent to please. All she wanted was his body.
Clara feared suddenly that deep down, she wanted to be appeased. She wanted him to make her forget all their troubles. She wasn’t proud of that, but there it was.
How thoroughly English she had become.
If only she could believe him. If only Gillian had not been planting seeds of doubt in her mind.
In that moment, the thought of Gillian woke her from her passions and evoked an urgent need to clear the air. Clara could not continue to guess and brood about matters when she did not know the facts. That way lay madness.
Perhaps she was not so English after all.
“I heard you had lunch with Gillian today,” she said.
Seger gazed at her questioningly. “Yes, but it was a chance meeting.”
She recognized how intent he was to assure her of that. How she hated this.
She reminded herself that Gillian was not to be trusted. The woman was determined to make her feel unstable, and Clara would not, under any circumstances, let that happen. She had to keep an open mind and not rush to blame Seger. She must not look at the vase on the mantel.
“Seger, I must be truthful with you. I’m going to tell you what Gillian said to me today, and you can form your own opinions about it. I just need to relate it to you, for my own peace of mind.”
He sat up, too, and began to look concerned. “What did she say?”
“She said things about Lady Cleveland. She made references and suggested that you were still involved with her. That you were with her today. Were you?”
His eyes darkened. “No, I was not.”
Clara inhaled deeply. One down, one more to go.
“Gillian also said that you confessed all your deepest feelings to her, and you thought I was little more than a stranger to you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Seger replied. “She said those exact words? You are not paraphrasing?”
Clara’s heart was clamoring, her stomach churning with dread. What if he thought she was hysterical and imagining things? What if he took Gillian’s side? What if he truly was still involved with Lady Cleveland and lying about it?
“That is exactly what she said,” Clara replied. “Almost verbatim. Truly, I do not want to cause trouble, but Gillian has said some terrible things to me, and I don’t think I can bear it another minute. She has tried to make me doubt you, and I must admit, I am a vulnerable target in that regard.”
He gazed at her for a moment. “Do you doubt me?”
As difficult as this was, the most important thing was to nurture what intimacy existed between herself and her husband, and to close the emotional distance between them. She needed Seger to understand her heart, and she needed to understand his. There had to be truth between them.
“I will be honest with you,” she said. “I am not sure.”
There. The truth was out in the open. And the vase was still standing on the mantel.
Seger pulled her into his arms. “Clara, my darling, you mustn’t believe a single word Gillian has said. I have not seen Lady Cleveland since the night you met her at that wretched ball. Gillian had no reason to say those things. I don’t know why she would even think it.”
Clara fought the tears that were threatening to fill her eyes. “I don’t know either, except what I suspected weeks ago—that she has feelings for you, and she hates me because I am your wife. Even if it were true—that you were having an affair with Lady Cleveland—why would Gillian want to tell me and hurt me by doing so?”
He held her close and kissed her cheeks and then her mouth. “It is not true. Clara, have you been miserable because of this?”
“I’ve tried not to let her get the best of me, but I admit, I do not completely trust you.”
Seger held her in front of him so that he could see her face. His eyes were dark and growing darker with every second. “I don’t know what to do to change that. I want your trust, and I damn well deserve it, for I’ve done nothing wrong.” He pulled her into his arms again. “I swear on my life, I am not seeing Lady Cleveland. I care for you in ways I never thought possible. I didn’t think I was capable of this.”
Because of Daphne, she thought.
Clara almost sobbed. “I want to make things better between us. I want to believe you.”
He kissed her again, then slipped out of bed and reached for his trousers.
“Where are you going?” Clara asked.
“To speak to my cousin. She will apologize to you, and if she refuses, she will be packing her belongings this very night.”
Clara realized the ramifications of such an action, and climbed out of bed, too. “You mustn’t do that. Quintina would be devastated. She would hate me.”
“She would not be justified in that hatred.”
“Perhaps not, but it wouldn’t matter in the end. Emotions don’t always make sense, especially when they concern a loved one. Quintina adores her niece, and I don’t want to be responsible for a rift between them. Quintina might resent me.”
“What would that matter?”
Clara paused a moment. “Earlier tonight, after she learned what Gillian had said to me about Lady Cleveland, she came to my room and was very kind to me. I believe that her intentions were good. She said she never had a daughter of her own, and I feel there might be a chance for affection between us. I don’t want to spoil that. Please, all that matters is that you and I are clear with each other. If I am confident in your faithfulness, Gillian cannot hurt me.”
But was she truly confident? She wanted to be. She wanted to believe that he was sincere in everything he’d said tonight—that he was no longer seeing Lady Cleveland, that his grief over Daphne was fading away, and that he was finally ready to love Clara.
Seger hesitated, then walked around the bed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I don’t want a confrontation over me to divide this family. I’ll be able to handle Gillian from now on. Now that you know what she is trying to do, she has no power. I will tell her that you know, you can even say so yourself, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she leaves quietly on her own.”
He shook his head, as if in disbelief, then urged Clara down onto the bed and covered her body with his own. Soon, she was writhing with pleasure, feeling the onerous weight of the day lifting. Her body grew warm, and she buried her fingers in her husband’s thick hair.
“I wish we could go on our honeymoon now,” she whispered. “If only we could be alone together.”
She wanted to forge a deeper bond.
Seger kissed her tenderly on the mouth. “I would like that, too, but I have an interview with a business speculator at the end of the week that cannot be rescheduled. I have many questions I want to ask him, and he is only in town on the twenty-third.”
“Could we go somewhere closer and be back in time?” Clara asked.
“What about your country estate? I haven’t seen it yet, Seger, and I am desperate to see your home. Our home.”
He stopped what he was doing and looked down at her. “Why not just stay here? We could spend the days together.”
Clara sighed. “There are so many distractions. I want to be alone with you. Just the two of us. I want to stay in bed all day and not worry about my mother-in-law knowing what we are doing, or my sister dropping by to visit. I want to go for long walks across country meadows with you and listen to the birds. I want to make love in the woods.”
A slow, lazy smile touched his lips. “You know that I am always at your service. Anywhere and anytime.”
She ran her fingers through his hair, and replied playfully, “I’ve come to discover that. Please say you’ll take me, Seger. I want to see our home.”
Seger rolled to the side to lean on an elbow. “You should know, Clara, that I don’t consider Rawdon Hall to be my home.”
Surprised, she gazed at him blankly. “But it’s where you were born and raised, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I haven’t been there in a very long time.”
She felt a heaviness settle in her chest. “Why ever not?”
“I’ve always traveled abroad during the winters, and when I return to England I come here to the London House. I deal with estate matters from a distance.”
“But why?” she asked again, fearing she already knew the answer.
He shrugged. “The place does not hold happy memories for me.”
Clara stared at her husband in bleak silence and sat up. “Because of Daphne?” There it was...out in the open at last.
For a long moment, Seger said nothing. Then he sat up as well and touched her cheek. “You look wounded, Clara.”
“No, I’m not.” But her voice was trembling.
“I promise you, my feelings for Daphne are ancient history. She might have been my reason to leave eight years ago, and the reason why I haven’t returned, but that’s merely because I became a creature of habit. I assure you, she is forgotten. You’re all that matters to me now. Come, lie down. Seger inched toward the pillows. “There has been too much talk of other women tonight, and I don’t want to think of anyone but you.”
Clara forced herself to lie back and snuggle close to her husband.
“And you’re right, my darling,” he added. “We are newly married. We need to spend some time alone together. I will send word to Rawdon Hall first thing in the morning and tell them to expect us the day after. It’s time we embarked upon our new life.”
Clara rested her cheek on his warm shoulder, smiled when he kissed her forehead, and wished she could feel better about the new life she had begun.
Gillian stood at the window in her bedchamber and did not even try to fight the tears that were pouring from her eyes like two cascading waterfalls. Her cheeks were drenched. Her nose was running, and she couldn’t stop sniffling.
She pressed her hand to the cool pane of glass and watched Seger’s coach disappear down the road. She cursed that vile American cow. Clara had lured him away with sex. How could Gillian compete with that?
But when had she ever been able to compete with anyone where Seger was concerned? Gillian had been fooling herself to think that Seger could ever fall in love with her. She had no idea how to charm a man. How to be coquettish. Everything Gillian had told Clara about her father wanting her to marry Seger had been a lie. He would never even have considered such a thing. He’d always called Gillian an embarrassment.
Gillian should not have let Quintina manipulate her. She should have given up on those dreams the day of the wedding. Quintina had been wrong to suggest that things could change. She had given Gillian false hopes.
Quintina entered the room, saw her niece sobbing by the window, and immediately embraced her. “There, there darling. Go ahead and cry, get it all out. That’s better. All will work out, you’ll see.”
But Gillian did not see. She pushed her aunt away and wiped the tears from her eyes. “No! I have tried and tried, but she will not be broken! I can’t do it anymore. She is not behaving the way you said she would. You said she would be driven to tears, but I am the one who is crying.”
“Get a hold of yourself, dear. The war is not over.”
“This is not a war, Auntie. It is a marriage, and I am an outsider. I do not belong here. I should go home to my uncle’s house and forget about Seger. I should prepare for a Season of my own next year and find someone else.”
Quintina moved forward again and took hold of Gillian by the shoulders. “You are upset because they just left, but they will be back, and we still have one more scheme to execute. Do not give up now. I want Susan, God rest her soul, to know that I made your dreams come true, and to be frank with you, dear, I cannot bear to think that my future grandchildren will be half American. Wait until we at least exhaust all possibilities.”
“I’m beginning to think this is more for you than me!” Gillian replied. “You hate the fact that your parents lost their home to an American, and you can’t bear for it to happen again. But Clara is mistress of this house now, Auntie, and there is not one single thing we can do about it.”
“But there is!” Quintina replied desperately.
“No. I can’t do this anymore. It’s humiliating! I hate being in this house when he goes to her bed every night!”
“Gillian, calm yourself. Sit down and listen to me. Something significant is about to happen. I have been communicating with that man I told you about—the one from America. He has incriminating information about Clara and his very presence will knock her clear off her glowing pedestal. I have asked him to come to London, and I assure you, it’s going to be sordid. He is on his way here as we speak.”
Gillian sat down and tried to stop crying as she listened in foggy comprehension to what her aunt told her would happen next.
Chapter 19
Dear Adele,
I love Seger and I want to make him happy, but there are still so many barriers between us. While I believe I have overcome the problem with Gillian, I am still not at ease. I must continue to live with the knowledge that what happened to the woman he loved eight years ago has left a deep hole in his heart. She is the sole reason that his heart has been so inaccessible, and while I knew that from the beginning, I believed my love would fill that hole. I have just learned, however, that he has not returned to his home in the country since she died. We are traveling there today, and I do not know what to expect....
Clara
As the carriage approached Rawdon Hall and drove around the circular fountain in front of the house, Seger realized with unease that an emotional awakening did not come without some discomfort, for he could not seem to escape thoughts of Daphne.
He had always been able to avoid reminiscing—he had spent eight years teaching himself how to bury his feelings—but at present, he could not push her from his mind. She was so much a part of his youth and his memories of this house, which was why he had never returned. Until now.
He gazed out the carriage window at the south garden. All at once, a host of vivid images came hurling, spinning back at him. He recalled the excitement and anticipation of running through that garden, sneaking away in the evenings before dinner, to meet her secretly down at the lake. He remembered how his feet would carry him across the lawns and through the woods, how his heart would race at the thought of seeing her. For four years she had been his best friend, his confidante. She was—and would always be—his first love.
A knot of tension formed in his gut as the carriage rolled to a stop. He remembered the last time he had been there, when he’d driven away devastated and shattered—emotionally bruised and beaten down into a state of complete and utter grief over Daphne’s death. He had not looked back. He couldn’t. He’d been so full of rage toward his father for sending Daphne away. For being the cause of her death
.
Why had she gotten on that ship? he had wondered so desperately afterward. Why hadn’t she come to him? If she had, they could have run away together.
The question had haunted him for years. He had wondered what he’d done wrong. In the end, he finally accepted that she’d chosen to leave, thinking it was for his own good. She’d always worried about his parents’ disapproval. She had not wanted to be the reason his father would disinherit him, as he had threatened to do.
The carriage stopped in front of the house, and Clara squeezed Seger’s hand. He smiled at her, pleased at least that she was here to distract him from those memories and remind him that life was not the same as it was. Now he was married to an extraordinary woman he desired beyond any imagining. He had come around full circle. He was home, and he was about to start a new life.
He helped Clara out of the carriage and escorted her into the front hall where the servants were standing in two straight lines, eager to greet the new marchioness. Seger recognized almost no one. He supposed many of the former servants must have moved on and been replaced over the years. Even the butler was strange to him.
A short while later they were shown to their rooms, and Clara seemed genuinely pleased with her boudoir and the house in general.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “I’ll be very happy here, Seger. We will live here, won’t we? You won’t continue to manage things from London?”
Seger kissed her hand. “If you wish to live here, then we will make it our home.”
He was surprised to hear himself speak those words so quickly, without really thinking it through. He had expected more of a resistance from his deeper self—from the place where the memories lived.
But he supposed he had faced those memories just now and had not suffered so much after all. Yes, he had remembered things—things he had not permitted himself to revisit before now, because they were too painful. But they were only memories. Scattered and dim. Small, individual fragments of the four years he had spent with Daphne. Sad memories of a difficult and turbulent time, yes, but there were pleasant memories, too, and for the first time since he couldn’t remember when, he had faced them. He had remembered how he had felt when he was sixteen.
Falling for the Marquess (American Heiress Trilogy Book 2) Page 23