An Affair Most Wicked (29 page)

Clara fought the tears that were filling 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 seeing Lady Cleveland—why would Gillian want to tell me and hurt me with it?”

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 have tried not to let her get the best of me, but I must admit, I… I do not completely trust you.”

Seger held her in front of him so he could see her face. His eyes were dark and growing darker every second. “I don’t know what to do to change that. I want your trust, and dammit I deserve it, for I’ve done nothing wrong.”

He pulled her into his arms again. “For God’s sake, I am not seeing Lady Cleveland! I am changing. I have begun to care for you in a way I hadn’t thought possible, because I hadn’t let myself care for anyone in a very long time.”

Because of Daphne.

Clara almost sobbed. “Your apology means a lot to me, Seger. More than you could ever know. I want to try to make things better between us. I do want to believe you.”

He kissed her again, then slipped out of the bed and reached for his trousers.

“Where are you going?” Clara asked.

“To speak plainly with my cousin. She will apologize to you, and if she refuses, she will be packing her belongings tonight.”

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 do not want to be responsible for a rift between them. Quintina might begin to 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 closeness between us. I don’t want to spoil that. Please, all that matters is that you and I are clear about our marriage. If I am confident in your fidelity and affections, 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 let go of his fears and just love her.

Seger hesitated a moment, gazing at her in the lamplight, then walked around the bed and took her into his arms. “You are a remarkable woman. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I don’t want a confrontation over me to divide this family. I will 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. “How was a man like me ever so blessed to meet a woman like you at a Cakras Ball?”

Clara smiled. “I was blessed too.”

He eased her down onto the bed. “Let’s count those blessings tonight.” His voice was husky and sensual. “Starting with this one.”

He took her nipple into his mouth and proved once again the indisputable basis for his reputation as every woman’s dream lover. Soon, Clara was writhing with pleasure, feeling the heavy weight of the day lifting from her shoulders. 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.

He 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 up at her. “Why not just stay here? We could spend the days together.”

Clara sighed. “There are too 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 inched up on the bed to look into her eyes. “You should know, Clara, that I don’t really 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 long time.”

She felt a heaviness settle in her chest. “Why ever not?”

He sighed. “I always go abroad during the winter, and when I return to England I come here to our London House. I’ve always dealt with estate matters from a distance.”

“But why?” she asked again, fearing she knew the answer.

He shrugged. “I don’t really enjoy being there.”

Clara’s eyebrows drew together. “Is it the house? Is it uncomfortable or cold? Or do you not like your neighbors?”

It was all wishful thinking, and she knew it.

He shrugged again. “The neighbors are fine, I just…” He sat up, then raked his fingers through his hair. “I suppose if I don’t tell you now, you’ll hear about it from someone else, because the gossip is rampant in the country, so I might as well just say it. I haven’t been home in eight years, Clara, because… because I did not wish to be reminded of Daphne.”

Clara stared at her husband in bleak silence.
There it was… out in the open at last
.

Seger touched her cheek. “You look wounded, Clara.”

“No, I’m not.” But her voice was shaky.

“I promise you, my feelings for Daphne are ancient history. She might have been my reason to leave eight years ago, but the fact that I have not returned since then is merely because I became a creature of habit. I assure you, she is forgotten.”

But until you married me, she was the only woman you ever loved. Perhaps she still is.

“Come, lie down,” Seger said, fluffing the pillows. “There has been too much talk of other women tonight, and I don’t wish to think of anyone but you.”

Clara forced herself to smile. She snuggled close to her husband.

“And you’re right, 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 upon 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 ever compete with that?

But when, she wondered miserably, had she ever been able to compete with anyone where Seger was concerned? She 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 all hope 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 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 Gillian into her arms. “You are upset because they just left, but they will be back and we still have one more scheme to execute. Please don’t 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 can’t bear to think that my future grandchildren will be half American. Wait until we at least try all the possibilities.”

“I’m beginning to think this is more for you than it is for me! You hate the fact that your parents lost their home to a deep-pocketed American, and you can’t stand to see it happen again. But Clara is mistress of this house now, Auntie, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“There is!” Quintina replied desperately.

“I can’t wait anymore. This is too painful! Too humiliating! I cannot bear to be in this house when he goes to her bed every night!”

“Gillian, calm yourself. Sit down and listen to me. Something significant is going to happen soon. 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, the situation is going to be deliciously sordid. He is on his way even 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

As the carriage approached Rawdon Hall and drove around the circular fountain in front of the house, Seger realized uneasily that an emotional awakening did not come without some discomfort, for he could not stop himself from thinking of Daphne.

He had always been able to stop himself—he had spent eight years teaching himself how to be numb inside—but at this moment, 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. His first lover.

A knot of tension formed in his gut as the carriage rolled to a stop. He remembered the last time he had been here, 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 had accepted that she’d left for his own good. She had 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, glad at least to have her with him to distract him from those memories and to remind him that life was not the same as it was. Now he was married to a beautiful, extraordinary woman whom he desired beyond any imagining.

He had come around full circle, he told himself. 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 time 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’ll live here, won’t we? You won’t continue to manage the estate from London?”

Seger took both her hands in his and kissed them. “If you wish to live here, then we will make it our home.”

He was surprised to hear himself say those words so quickly, without really thinking about it. 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 let himself think of them. He had looked at the familiar gardens and remembered how he had felt when he was sixteen.

Perhaps he could let himself remember other things. Face all of it at last, and put it behind him.

Seger smiled and laid a kiss on Clara’s moist lips. “We have the house to ourselves,” he said. “We’ll spend every moment together for two days and nights, and we’ll come to know each other better.”

Her eyes lit up. “Thank you, Seger. It’s what I’ve wanted since our wedding day.”

“It gives me pleasure to know I can give you what you want. You must always tell me what you desire, darling, and I will do my best to make it so.”

She smiled warmly. “I will.”

Clara spent an hour in her room with her maid, unpacking her things and freshening up after the journey from London. Then she met Seger in the drawing room at the agreed upon time.

He took her on a tour of the house, which she enjoyed immensely for it was a wonderful house, full of antiquities and art and all the modern conveniences. Then they ventured outdoors to the stables where a groom was waiting for them, with two horses saddled.

She and Seger went riding over the green hills and through the trees along a narrow river. Seger told her about the childhood games he used to play with two boys who were sons of a nearby squire. He showed her the squire’s house from a distance, and wondered if the family still lived there.

“Would you like to call on them?” Clara asked, but Seger said no, reminding her that this was their time to spend together and get to know one another.

“Another day,” he said, and Clara felt a wave of happiness move through her.

Later, they arrived at a lake, and decided to give the horses a rest. Seger dismounted and tethered his gelding, then helped Clara down, too.

“Shall we walk?” he suggested.

A short time later, they sat down on the grass in the shade of some towering oaks. Seger leaned back on his elbows and crossed his ankles. He stared at the calm lake.

There was not a hint of a breeze. Clara breathed in the clean, damp scent of the water and listened to the birds chirping. The trees were still.

“It’s so peaceful here. I believe I could come every day and just sit here and do nothing but daydream.” She gazed up at the huge, leafy branches over her head, blocking her view of the sky.

Seger said nothing. He was very quiet.

She watched him for a moment or two and wished she knew what he was thinking about, then it occurred to her that he might be thinking of Daphne. Remembering…

Clara felt a tightening sensation in her stomach and cleared her throat. Maybe she should suggest that they leave now and go back to the house. They could go to her bedchamber. They hadn’t made love yet. Perhaps they could steal some time before dinner.

Then she reminded herself that she had come to Rawdon Hall with her husband get to know him better. To forge a connection between them—a connection that sustained endurance outside of the bedroom.

“Does all this remind you of Daphne?” Clara gently asked him.

His gaze darted up at her. He looked surprised at first, then his face softened. “Yes.”

Clara tried not to feel hurt that he was thinking about another woman now, in this beautiful, idyllic place, when she herself was thinking of no one but him.

Wanting him to feel that she was offering comfort— and
not
wanting him to know that deep down she was fighting a pang of jealousy—she reached out and touched his shoulder.

Daphne is dead. He will get over this
, she told herself.

“Did you come here with her often?” Clara asked.

“All the time. We used to swim over there.” He sat up and pointed.

Clara didn’t know what to say next. He seemed melancholy; he was particularly quiet.

She felt a little sick.

Finally, Seger turned to her. “It was a long time ago, Clara. Don’t think that I still want her. I want
you
!”

Clara sucked in a breath.

He leaned toward her and cupped her head in his hand, pulled her close for a kiss. She moaned with sweet, aching bliss at the feel of his mouth on hers and his tongue parting her lips and venturing inside. The kiss was full of reassurance—intentional reassurance, she believed. It was unlike any other kiss they’d shared.

Perhaps they did know each other in certain ways, she thought. Somehow he had recognized her distress, and he wanted to soothe her. He did not want her to feel like she was his second choice. Somehow he knew she needed his affections at this moment.

Gently, he eased her onto the soft grass and covered her body with his own, tilting his head this way and that as he kissed her.

With roving hands, he reached down to raise her skirts. The feel of his fingers feathering over her thighs roused her senses and caused a flurry of butterflies within her belly.

Oh, how she needed to be the object of his attentions at this moment. She wrapped her legs around him and held him close as he kissed her neck, his hot breath tickling her skin and filling her with lustful need.

“Let’s make new memories,” she whispered in his ear. “I love it here, Seger.”

Her husband recognized the heated tone of her voice, the breathy quality that hinted at all kinds of wicked pleasures in the middle of the day in a completely inappropriate location. Sensitive lover that he was, always willing to answer to a woman’s longings, he smiled his consent and revived his extraordinary charm.

Clara felt instantly beautiful, as if she were the most important person in the world to him. He had such a talent in that regard. All he had to do was smile in that suggestive way, and she opened for him like a spring flower.

Glancing down with teasing eyes, he unbuttoned the top of her bodice and kissed along her collarbone.