An Affair Most Wicked (21 page)

Clara followed him around the bed. “I didn’t mean to make you angry. It’s just that a lot has happened these past few days, and we just… we just…”

Her voice shook and he immediately looked up. She was distraught. He’d just taken her virginity and all her choices were gone. She was probably sore down there for God’s sake. She probably felt vulnerable and confused.

Bloody hell, he was an idiot. He knew nothing. In eight years, he had never let himself feel responsible for a woman’s comfort or happiness. He’d avoided women who pushed toward intimacy and sentiment. Now suddenly here he was, up to his ears in sentiment and obligation and probably tears, too, if this continued in the direction it seemed to be going at the moment.

Lord, this was not at all what he was used to. He was completely out of his realm of experience. He was fine with seductions and physical attachments—more than fine—but he didn’t know the first thing about emotional intimacy and how to handle a woman who was upset. He was not the kind of man to stay around for that, but now he was to be someone’s husband and he had no choice but to stay. He couldn’t don his boyish charm and tease his way out the room like he usually did.

He suddenly felt as if he had bitten off more than he could chew.

Then he saw Clara’s nightgown quiver and knew she was fighting a full-blown sob.

He couldn’t let her cry. Someone would hear.

He felt a shamelessly shallow need to stop her from crying only to keep the silence, and an even more shallow need to get out of there as soon as she collected herself.

Something else took over, however. Perhaps it was compassion or affection for Clara. Perhaps it was merely the need to fix the situation. He had no idea.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had crossed the room and was taking her in his arms. All that mattered to him at that moment was her comfort and happiness. Her needs became more important than his own. It was all very new.

His voice was gentle and soothing and completely unrecognizable to his own ears. “Why did you insist we make love if you weren’t sure?”

She shook her head and whispered, “I couldn’t think about anything except that I wanted you. Now it’s settling in, and I think I’ve just realized the gravity of what we’ve done, and I suddenly feel very alone.”

Alone. She felt alone.

His heart began to pound. It was a first for Seger, who never, ever experienced any kind of panic in a woman’s bedroom. Not even when the husband’s carriage pulled up outside, because there was always a back door.

“But I can’t do anything about it,” she continued, wiping under her nose, “because I can’t turn back the clock.”

He rubbed her shoulders and stroked her hair. “And the fact that you can no longer change your mind about marrying me has spooked you.”

She nodded.

It bloody well spooked him, too, but he knew enough not to say it.

“There is nothing to fear, Clara. We are going to be married. If we hadn’t done this tonight we would have done it eventually—on our honeymoon at least, which is only two months away. A mere fragment in time. Do not feel that you are alone.”

But how would he ever make her not feel that?
Jesus
. He was here with her, he’d just made love to her, and she felt alone. Lonely. Even though he was holding her in his arms.

Seger lifted her chin with a finger and kissed her gently on the lips. “You are my fiancée, and tonight you gave me something very precious. You shared a part of yourself with me. I am deeply touched.”

But she felt alone.

Clara nodded, and he relaxed somewhat, knowing he had eased her mind a tiny bit, and given her at least a particle of comfort.

Still, the urgent compulsion to leave continued to poke at him, and he wasn’t sure how much of it was a result of the servants’ impending appearance, or the subject matter of this conversation.

Either way, he had to go and she knew it. At least he had a good reason to slip out without tramping cruelly on her feelings.

He quickly pulled on his waistcoat and jacket while she watched him in silence. “I really do have to go before people are up and about.”

“I know.” She crossed toward him, looking vulnerable and uncertain. Even her voice had changed. It did not hold her usual confidence. “I’m sorry, Seger. Now I feel foolish for the things I said. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

He gathered her into his arms again. “No need to feel that way. You did something you hadn’t planned to do tonight. It’s only natural.”

Natural that she would regret what they’d done.

Something tightened in his gut, but he tried to ignore it because he didn’t understand it. He’d never felt uncertain after making love to a woman. He’d always walked out with the secure knowledge that he had pleased his partner and the session had been a success. He’d always walked out with an uncomplicated smile on his face.

He should walk out now. He wanted to, but he couldn’t seem to do it. He couldn’t leave her like this. “Let’s do it sooner.”

Her eyes were wide with innocence as she blinked up at him. “Do what?”

“Get married, like I said before. I know that’s what started this argument, but you don’t need to make me wait to test my discipline against temptation. Let me marry you and prove that I am completely devoted. If I were not, I would be putting it off. I want you and no one else. That is what lies at the heart of this. It’s why I want to skip the elaborate wedding and keep it simple. We could do it next week.”

What the bloody hell was he doing? The more uncertain he became, the faster and deeper he dug the hole.

“Seger, you don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel better.” But he was, and he knew it. “I just don’t want to wait, it’s as simple as that. Besides, you might be carrying my child.”

Worry flooded her eyes.

God, it was wretched of him to resort to that.

Nevertheless, he forged ahead. “Let’s just do it. We’ll be joined legally and morally. You will have my total commitment and all these doubts and fears will disappear.”

What he really meant was that if he put the ring on her finger, signed the papers, she wouldn’t feel guilty about making love to him, and they wouldn’t have to have this difficult conversation again. They could go back to laughing and smiling.

“You will be my wife,” he said, “and we will share a bed like a normal, respectable married couple.”

That at least got a smile out of her. “I think I’d like to be respectable.”

Seger chuckled. “
You
would? Lord, I’m about to enter a whole new world.”

The tension lifted and she rested her forehead on his chest. “What about the honeymoon? You’ve made arrangements for September.”

“We’ll simply wait and go then. This way, you’ll have time to settle into your new home.”

She laughed at the absurdity of such a rushed affair. “Go, before someone catches you sneaking out of here.”

“Not without an answer.”

She shook her head. He wished he could see her face.

“An answer, darling. Next week?”

She gazed up at him in the candlelight, then at last she replied, “All right, but only because I want to be in your bed again.”

Her answer relieved him greatly. What could he say? He was a man, and the bed was the one place he felt confident in knowing his way around.

He turned to leave, but Clara stopped him with a question. “Seger? Was I your first virgin?”

He halted and closed his eyes. He wished she had not asked him that. “What does it matter?”

He did not see the point in the question.

“Well? Was I?”

He slowly turned to face her. “No.”

“Have there been many?”

“No. Only one.”

He saw her Adam’s apple bob, as if she had difficulty swallowing over his reply. Finally, she nodded. “Daphne?”

“Yes.”

Her chest rose and fell with a deep sigh.

Hearing a thump in one of the upstairs bedrooms, Seger knew he had to leave. He hesitated a moment, however, for he could see the distress in his future wife’s eyes, and wished he could stay to make it disappear. He wanted her to know that Daphne was deep in his past. She was forgotten. There was no need for Clara to feel as if
she
were not the most important woman in the world to him.

Another thump sounded over their heads.

He had to go.

He kissed Clara on the mouth, then backed out of the room. He noted however, that he left without his usual indulgent, postcoitus smile.

When the news of her stepson’s sudden haste to marry the American reached Quintina’s ears the next day, she gazed helplessly across the breakfast table at Gillian. Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds.

An
American
. Quintina could have spit on her toast.

All was quiet, until Gillian burst into tears and ran out.

Quintina sat in her chair, staring blankly at the wall. She felt numb. Sick. Disgusted. How could this have happened? Marriage terrified Seger. He had never been willing to face the permanence or the commitment. Nor had he been willing to let go of the past, in particular the daughter of an insipid, working-class merchant.

At least
she
was English.

Quintina had thought she had all the time in the world to make Gillian the next Lady Rawdon. She had thought her niece was the only young woman with even the slightest chance with him, because she was the only one Seger spent any time with on a regular basis—the only unmarried gel who didn’t apply any pressure, the kind of pressure that always made him rebel into extreme bachelorhood.

Quintina had also believed she could put an end to his engagement to the American and send Gillian in to take over where the heiress had left off, after having lit the stove, so to speak.

A sudden heated rage rose up within Quintina. No! Gillian had been waiting forever. She’d wanted him since she was a girl!

Quintina rose from her chair, picked up a vase full of flowers from the sideboard, and smashed it on the floor.

The American. Next week. It couldn’t be true!

She took in a number of deep breaths to calm herself, then left the breakfast room and informed the housekeeper that she required a carriage right away.

She had to send an urgent telegram to America. She could not let this marriage take place.

Chapter 14

Beatrice Wilson of New York stepped out of the large coach and onto the sidewalk. Wearing an excessively flounced traveling gown that made her look even shorter and plumper than she already was, she gazed up at Wentworth House from beneath a wide brimmed, purple plumed hat.

This was the home of a duke. Her daughter’s home.

A great wave of satisfaction moved through her.

Her maid stepped out behind her just as Beatrice’s two daughters came running out the front door to dash into her open arms.

“Mother!” Sophia said. “You’re here!”

All three of them hugged and laughed, until Clara and Sophia stepped back to give their mother room to breathe.

“You both look beautiful,” Beatrice said. “Congratulations, Clara. I can’t wait to meet this marvelous man you have caught, and Sophia, I must see my grandchildren.”

“Of course. Come inside.”

A footman took care of her trunks, while the housekeeper greeted Beatrice’s maid and showed her to her room.

A few minutes later, Beatrice was in the nursery picking up her newest grandson, John, second in line to a dukedom. “You’re such a beautiful boy,” she cooed, letting him clasp her finger. “Sophia, what an accomplishment. The dowager must be pleased. Two sons in two years.”

“She is, Mother. We’ve become very close.”

Clara gathered Liam into her arms.

“And you…” Beatrice said, turning to face Clara, “you are to marry a marquess. My two girls. What legends you have become back home. Sophia tells me your marquess is handsome. No doubt your children will be the envy of all the mothers in England.”

Clara smiled, wondering uneasily if the future heir to the title was already planted in her womb. “He is indeed handsome, Mother. I’m very happy.”

“I’m glad. You deserve it, darling. The world has come around right, has it not?”

“Yes, Mother,” Clara replied, knowing her mother was referring to that disagreeable time two years ago, when it had felt like all joy in her life had come to an end.

“How is Adele?” she asked, wishing to change the subject.

“Adele is having a grand time going to parties and balls, but she has not given up the idea of coming here next year to enjoy what spoils London has to offer—spoils which seem to be quite impressive, judging by what you two have achieved.”

She winked at Clara and swayed from side to side to rock the baby. “I’ve hired an English governess for Adele,” she continued, “and the woman is spectacular. She knows all about the aristocracy and tells me she has connections here as well. Though of course, what better recommendation can a young woman have than to be the sister of a duchess and a marchioness?” Beatrice’s eyes glimmered with pride. “I am so proud of both of you.”

“You will be even more proud tomorrow night,” Sophia said, “when you meet the marquess and his family at the Wilkshire Ball.” Sophia gave her sister a knowing glance. “May I be the first to tell you that the date of the wedding has been moved up since yesterday. They’re going to be married next week, Mother. They are that much in love.”

Beatrice’s mouth fell open. “You don’t say. Then it is true.”

“What’s true, Mother?” Clara asked.

“That it really is a love match. The newspapers in America are churning the story out like cheese.”

Clara laughed out loud. “But where would they hear such a thing?”

“Heaven knows. The only thing that matters is that you are the latest American heroine, darling.” She affectionately wiggled Clara’s nose. “I can’t wait to meet this man of yours.”

Sophia approached and put her arm around Clara. “You will approve of Lord Rawdon, Mother. I am sure of it.”

“A marquess? You needn’t even wonder if I will approve. Handsome or not, I will adore him.”

She did, of course, adore him. Clara watched her mother curtsey before Seger in the ballroom with a look of pure wonder teeming from her eyes—a look that had more to do with how handsome he was than the simple fact that he was an English lord, which was an astonishment to be sure.

After their engagement was announced, everyone seemed to suddenly share her mother’s opinion. It had been a number of years since Seger had frequented society ballrooms, and Clara guessed that most of these people were finally admitting to their fascination with him, for he was like no other man in London.

And now he was accepted. The powerful Duke of Wentworth had welcomed the fallen marquess into his family, and people were at last free to admire him.

Clara stood off to the side alone, watching Seger dance with his cousin, Miss Flint, and watching his stepmother smile. The woman certainly seemed proud to see her son moving in good society again. Clara was glad she had played a part in that.

Just then, an attractive woman wearing a dark crimson gown, with rubies sewn into the skirt, moved up beside her. Clara remembered meeting her when she had arrived. Lady Cleveland was her name. She was exceptionally beautiful.

“You mustn’t stare,” Lady Cleveland said. “Everyone else is doing a fine job of that, and you shall have him all to yourself soon enough.”

Clara turned to face her.

The woman raised a coquettish, arched eyebrow. “You must tell me how you did it, Miss Wilson.”

Clara tried not to squeeze her champagne glass too tightly. “I beg your pardon?”

“How you snared him. He doesn’t need your American money, so however did you manage to turn a man who has such a great predisposition toward bachelorhood into the marrying kind?”

Clara could barely swallow as she gazed at the woman beside her, whose eyes raked over her with a sneer. “I didn’t snare him.”

The woman smirked. “Well, whatever you did, I could kill you for it. I only hope you will allow him some freedom, and won’t be one of those jealous wives.”

Clara had to fight to breathe over the fury welling up inside her. “If you would make your meaning clear, Lady Cleveland.”

The woman kept her gaze on the dancers as she sipped her champagne. “I thought I already had.”

The dance ended and Seger escorted Miss Flint to Quintina, then immediately made his way across the floor to where Clara was standing with Lady Cleveland.

“My lady,” he said, bowing over her hand and placing a kiss on her gloved knuckles. “It is a pleasure, indeed.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my lord,” she replied in a deep, throaty voice that held a dozen-and-one hidden meanings. It was more than clear that these two had a history together and Lady Cleveland wanted it known. “I believe congratulations are in order.”

“Yes, I see you’ve met my fiancée.”

The woman turned and gave Clara a haughty look down the length of her nose. “I have indeed. She is very sweet, Seger. Not your type at all.”

The way she used his given name right under Clara’s nose made all the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She would have liked to empty her champagne glass over the top of the woman’s head, but she resisted the impulse, tempting as it was.

Seger merely laughed. “You’re incorrigible, Lady Cleveland. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other. Where have you been these past months?”

She shrugged. “Here and there. Mostly there.”

“Well, I hope to see you more often, now that I am finally ‘out.’ ”

Lady Cleveland threw back her head and laughed, revealing a mouthful of huge white teeth. “And a magnificent debut it was, Seger.” She discreetly squeezed his arm as she moved around him to take her leave. “I hope to see you later. I believe after supper, I’ll be in need of some entertainment.”

Clara watched her fiancé‘s eyes follow the other woman across the room, then he picked up a glass of champagne from a passing footman and turned his attention back to her. “What’s wrong?”

“You have to ask?”

He glanced back at Lady Cleveland. “She bothered you? There’s really no reason not to like her. She’s just bored, that’s all.”

“She said she hoped I wouldn’t be a jealous wife, and that she didn’t think I was your type.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it. In fact, I would take it as a compliment.”

Clara watched the woman on the other side of the room. “She didn’t mean it as a compliment. Not if she considers herself your type.”

“She doesn’t. She’s just a friend.”

“A friend? I hardly think so.”

Seger finished his champagne and set it down. “So you
are
going to be a jealous wife after all. Heavens, how will I ever live up to my reputation after next week?”

Clara’s eyes widened in horror until she realized that Seger was joking. He was gazing down at her with a teasing smile.

“Why don’t we dance?” he said. “Are you free for the next one?”

“I am.”

She followed him on to the floor and worked hard to stifle her suspicious misgivings. She did not wish to sound like a nagging shrew. She wanted to be an agreeable, amusing wife he would enjoy more than any other woman. A wife he would feel close to. A wife who would become his best friend.

She also wanted to trust Seger, and making accusations like these would not foster a sense of confidence between them.

She shook her head at herself. “I do apologize, Seger. I’m afraid I’ve been thinking too much lately.”

He pulled Clara into his arms. “Let’s not talk about Lady Cleveland. Let’s talk about you. Your mother is delightful,” he said. “She is everything I imagined she would be. Energetic and cheerful, and thoroughly American.”

Clara tried to push Lady Cleveland from her mind. “Mother liked you, too. I could tell.”

“But does she know you refused a duke before you accepted my proposal?”

Clara sighed at the reminder. “I told her everything this morning. She is not like Mrs. Gunther. My mother covets British titles, certainly, but to her, one is as good as another. Precedence is merely incidental.”

They moved to the center of the ballroom, and Seger held Clara with confidence as he led her through the dance.

“When will your father and sister come?” he asked.

Clara began to feel a distance between them tonight that hadn’t existed before. She knew it was because of what had happened the other night, when she’d made demands upon him. And what just happened with Lady Cleveland didn’t help matters either.