An Affair Most Wicked (28 page)

The normal response would have been “Angry about what?” but Clara didn’t let herself ask the question, because that’s exactly what Gillian wanted her to do.

Nevertheless, the girl chattered on. “I really do hate that woman. I suppose you must hate her, too. I wish there was some way we could ruin her, you and I together, but I don’t think Seger would like that very much, would he?”

Still, Clara said nothing, but her teeth were grinding together.

Gillian continued. “I know I once said that if I were Seger’s wife, I would look the other way, but now I’m not so sure. I do see your plight. When I actually bumped into Lady Cleveland today in one of the shops, my blood literally boiled, because I knew Seger had just left her house. He said he’d gone to see his solicitor, and maybe he did, briefly, but I knew the truth.” She gazed down at Clara. “I suppose it’s our lot to suffer through that sort of thing, isn’t it?”

That was it. Clara couldn’t swallow another minute of this harassment. She stood. “
Our
lot?” Clara couldn’t take it anymore. She raised her chin high in the air. “I’ve had enough of this, Gillian.”

Gillian put on an innocent air. “Clara, I thought we were becoming close, and could share things with each other. I don’t like your tone.”

Clara almost laughed out loud at the nonsense spurting from this woman’s mouth. “Nor do I like yours. And I doubt Seger would think too much of it either if he could hear you now. You are trying to badger me, and your purpose is ridiculously obvious. You’re like a bad actress in a bad play, and if I weren’t so disgusted with you, I might even find it entertaining.”

The color drained from Gillian’s cheeks. “How dare you. I am a member of Seger’s family.”

“And I am his wife,” Clara said. “The mother of his future children. Mistress of this house.”

Gillian narrowed her gaze and approached Clara. She pointed a finger at her. “You think
I’m
being obvious, but do you know what is
really
obvious? How much you hate me, but that is not surprising, is it?”

“What are you insinuating?”

“I am insinuating nothing. In fact, I hope I am being very frank. You can’t stand the fact that I am close to Seger and you are not. I know that you are not, because I know him so well. He shares his deepest feelings with me, and he tells me that you are little more than a stranger to him. So don’t blame
me
for what is missing in your marriage, and don’t go complaining to him about me, because he will see right through you. If Seger is distant and that upsets you, it is not my fault. I have done nothing wrong. I assure you I am still only a close friend to him. Nothing has happened, at least not yet, but you hate me anyway, don’t you? Even though I’ve done nothing to deserve it.” She turned away from Clara and walked to the window. “If you’re going to hate someone, hate Lady Cleveland.”

Clara stood motionless. Words failed to come. She couldn’t think of how to respond to Gillian’s outburst. She was in complete, utter shock.

Just then, Quintina entered the room and kissed Clara on the cheek. “Good evening my dear. What a beautiful day it was.” She sat down on the sofa. “I believe Seger is having dinner at his club tonight, isn’t he?”

Gillian raised an eyebrow at Clara, as if to suggest he was not at his club. Her expression was triumphant. It screamed, “I told you so.”

When Clara did not respond, Quintina glanced at Gillian in the corner and said with a jolly tone, “Well, you both look famished. Are you ready to eat?”

They wordlessly nodded their heads and moved into the dining room. It was the worst meal Clara had eaten since she’d set foot on English soil.

Clara was removing her earrings, feeling angry and nauseous, when a knock sounded at her bedchamber door. Hoping it would be Seger—yet not at all sure what she would say to him if it was—she went to answer it.

Her mother-in-law stood in the corridor.

“Quintina.”

“Hello, my dear,” the woman said with a sympathetic tone to her voice. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” Clara stepped aside and invited the woman in.

Quintina moved to the center of the room. “You were quiet at dinner. Is something wrong?”

Clara thought carefully about how she should answer that. She couldn’t tell Quintina that she’d had a huge fight with her niece, especially knowing how much the woman loved her dead sister’s only child.

Nor could Clara tell her that she was worried, rationally or not, that her husband was rolling around in another woman’s bed at this very moment.

“I was just tired, that’s all.”

Quintina nodded, but seemed unconvinced. She let her gaze sweep the room. “You have many lovely things.” She picked up a framed photograph on Clara’s desk. “Is this you and your sisters?”

“Yes. It was taken when I was twelve.”

“Indeed. You were lovely even then. All of you were.” She set the picture down and met Clara’s eyes again. “Please tell me what’s bothering you. Is it the conversation you had with Gillian this evening?”

Clara stared in silence at her mother-in-law.

“I sensed the two of you had argued, and when I asked Gillian about it, she told me you discussed Lady Cleveland. Poor Gillian. She’s very concerned about you and feels terrible for bringing it up. Are you all right, Clara?”

Clara wondered how it was possible that Gillian could make everyone think she was kind at heart, when in reality she was pure, unadulterated evil.

Quintina stepped forward and hugged Clara. The gesture was unexpected, and Clara was surprised at how much she appreciated it. She realized suddenly how very alone she was in this house.

Still, she felt she should be careful with Quintina.

“It was nice of you to come and check on me,” she said.

The woman touched Clara on the nose. “I couldn’t help it. You seemed distraught.”

“Truly, I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Quintina was reluctant to let go of Clara’s upper arms. “You mustn’t worry about Lady Cleveland,” she said. “The woman just appeals to Seger’s sense of rebelliousness. It won’t last. They never do. The important thing to remember is that he married
you
. You’re the one he chose. I would offer to talk to him about it, but I don’t think it would do any good. He would only deny it, as any gentleman would.”

For the second time that evening, Clara was at a loss for words. She couldn’t imagine what Gillian had said to Quintina. All she could do was stare at the woman before her, while the reminder of Lady Cleveland burned inside her brain.

After a few seconds, Quintina backed away toward the door. “Promise you will come and talk to me if you ever feel unhappy or unsure about anything. I would like us to be close, Clara. I never had a daughter of my own.”

She walked out, leaving Clara to contemplate everything that had occurred that day, and finally resolve to talk to her husband about it as soon as he arrived home.

And she would be extremely, assuredly rational in her quest for the truth. No matter how badly she wanted to pitch a vase.

Seger walked into Clara’s bedchamber shortly before midnight. His breath smelled of whisky and cigars.

“Did you have a nice time?” Clara asked in an intentionally pleasant voice, even though inside she was reeling with doubts and anxieties about Gillian and Lady Cleveland. Even that wretched dress Gillian had mentioned.

Seger tugged at his neckcloth and began to unbutton his shirt. “I did, thank you. Lord Cobequid is looking well. He intends to return to India in a couple of weeks.”

Seger told her about their dinner and their billiards game, and related some of Lord Cobequid’s tales of the British colony abroad.

When Seger slipped into bed, he made a move to pull Clara into his arms. “How was your evening, darling?”

Clara stiffened, keeping to her side of the bed. “It was interesting. I talked to Gillian tonight,” she said matter-of-factly, not caring if the subject exploded in her face and drove her husband from the room like it did the last time she’d brought it up.

She wanted a fight, dammit. She wanted honesty and candor, no matter how disagreeable it was for her husband, and she wanted it now.

To her surprise, Seger sat forward and raised her chin with his finger, so he could look into her eyes. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about Gillian.”

Clara felt her brow furrow.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said, “for the way I reacted the last time we talked about her. It was wrong of me. I should have been a better listener.”

Clara sat up. “Seger, I…”

She what, exactly? Lord, she didn’t have a clue what she wanted to say to him. She was relieved to hear him offer this apology, but something inside her was suspicious about why he was offering it tonight.

He’d had lunch with Gillian that day. Had he suspected, like Clara, that Gillian had feelings for him? Was he ready to take her side and tell her she’d been right?

Or was he trying to appease her because he was hiding something—a rendezvous with Lady Cleveland perhaps?— and he wanted to keep her happy and prevent her from asking pointed questions?

He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I have come to realize that I haven’t always been easy to talk to.”

“Well…”

“I’m sorry, Clara. Our marriage came to fruition very quickly, and I can admit now that I was apprehensive, but since we spoke our vows, I have learned that the reality of marriage is not nearly as frightening as the idea of it. The decision was the hardest part, and now that it’s done, I find marriage more pleasant then I ever could have imagined.”

Clara swallowed over her shock.

“I believe,” he said, “that we’ve been getting to know each other better. Don’t you agree?”

She gazed up at him with parted lips. “I suppose.”

Where was this coming from? She wished she could wholeheartedly 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 be doubtful?

“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 leaned forward and kissed her. “Giving it up hasn’t bothered me for one instant. What I gave up doesn’t hold a candle to what I’ve gained.”

He kissed her again, more deeply this time, and despite her desire to fight with her husband, Clara couldn’t help but revel in the feel of his mouth upon hers, probing hotly, causing the most pleasurable stirring within her breast.

He was the personification of sexuality. Charismatic, erotic and enticing, he made her quiver from within and forget all the concerns of the day. All that mattered when he touched her was that he continued to touch her, with his expert hands and his astounding talent to please. All she wanted was his body.

Clara realized all at once that she
wanted
to be appeased. She wanted him to make her forget their problems. She wasn’t proud of it, but there it was.

How thoroughly English she had become.

Don’t be too hard on yourself. For weeks you’ve longed to hear those words from him.

If only she could believe them. If only Gillian had not been planting seeds of doubt in Clara’s mind.

Suddenly, she felt a violent need to clear the air. She dragged her lips from Seger’s, and pulled back. She 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.

He gazed at her questioningly. “Yes, but it was a chance meeting.”

She recognized how intent he was to assure her of that. Lord, 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 circumstance 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.

She sat up. “Seger, I must be candid. 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?”

Clara faced him. “She said things about Lady Cleveland. She made references and suggested that you were still involved with her. Are you?”

“I am not.”

Clara inhaled sharply. One down, one more to go. Then she would judge his responses accordingly.

“Gillian also said that you confided all your deepest feelings to her, and you thought I was little more than a stranger to you.”

“I beg your pardon? She said those exact words?”

Clara’s heart was clamoring, her stomach churning with dread. What if he thought she was insane and imagining things? What if he took Gillian’s side?

What if he really
was
still involved with Lady Cleveland?

“That is exactly what she said,” Clara replied as calmly as possible.

Seger sat up on the bed. “Are you sure you didn’t misinterpret her words?”

There it was—the suggestion that she was irrational.

“What I told you was almost verbatim. Truly, Seger, 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 long, long time. “Do you doubt me?”

As difficult as this was at the moment, the most important thing was to nurture what intimacy existed between them, and close the emotional distance. She needed her husband to understand her heart, and she needed to understand his. There had to be truth between them. “I must be honest with you. I am not sure.”

There. It was out, and thank God the vase was still on the mantel.

Seger sat up and pulled her into his arms. “Clara, my darling, you mustn’t believe those things. I adore you, and I have not even seen Lady Cleveland since the night you met her at that wretched ball. Gillian had no reason to say any of that. I don’t know why she would even think it.”