Bound By Temptation (24 page)

“Nonsense.” She tried to sound convincing.

“I remember your pallor when they brought him home. At first you only looked shocked, and then I could see the guilt sneak in. I wanted to comfort you then, but you would never let me say the words.”

“I was a good wife to him—at least I tried to be.” She wasn’t sure if she tried to convince herself or Robert.

“Yes, you were. You were a wonderful wife to
him, and a good mother to me, for all that you seemed more like a sister. You reined us both in when needed.”

“But he still—”

“He still died. Do you think there is anything that you could have done that would have prevented that? I refuse to believe that any action on your part could have changed what happened.”

Clara lifted her gaze and met his eyes squarely. “I tell myself that often. Less often now than in the beginning. I do know it is silly to have held myself responsible for what was his action, but I cannot help myself.

“He wanted me to go with him that morning. He had a new hunter and wanted to go run free. I have never loved speed and danger the way he did, and I did not feel like indulging him that morning. I told him that if he wanted I would take my old mare and that we could ride along the river and have a picnic, but that I was not in the mood to go all out. He stomped out and left without me. If I had gone with him, he would not have tried that jump. He would have known that I could not follow. Everything would have been different if I had only gotten over my petty desire to have things my way.”

“And given in to his petty desire to have them his way? Do you really think that would have changed things? I would bet he’d have gone over the jump at even greater speed trying to show off for you.”

“But he might not have.”

“And a branch might have fallen and knocked
him on the head or a dog might have run out of the bushes and spooked his horse. You can never know what would have happened.”

She sighed, long and slow. “I do know that and I tried not to punish myself over it. But, sometimes, just sometimes, I could not help it.”

Robert squeezed her fingers tight. “Is that what those wild years after his death were about? Punishing yourself?”

She laughed, with only a slightly bitter after-note. “Is that what you thought, that they were punishment? No, if anything it was the opposite. What I said when we spoke before was completely true. I was determined to take all the pleasure out of life I could. I was trying to live the way I thought your father would have wanted me to.” She became still for a moment and then continued, “He had always said that I should marry again if anything happened to him.”

“But you did not marry.”

Clara worked hard to keep her inflection flat. “No, I did not marry. I have never even considered marrying again. Perhaps you are right and some of it was punishment, punishment for not living up to what he wanted me to be. Perhaps that is also why I have avoided marriage—fear that I cannot be myself and still measure up to someone else’s needs. I will have to take the time to look at the problem with new eyes.”

“I think that sounds like a fine idea.” He turned to the door. “Now I must get Jennie. I wanted to tell you of our wedding on my own, but she is waiting.”

“Yes, please bring her in so that I can wish her well. And Robert…”

“Yes.”

“Do not tell her what has happened. Not today. Let us rejoice over your wedding. There will be time soon enough to deal with these matters.”

“As you wish—but do not delay. It must be taken care of quickly. And Clara”—he turned back—“my father was right. You really should marry again.”

Perhaps there was no other choice.

He left, and she wondered if there was any chance that she would be as happy after her own wedding as Robert had been when he entered the room.

She did not see how.

Masters stood beside the door to Clara’s home. How did it manage to convey such a sense of home before he even entered the door? Even the knocker seemed to gleam more brightly than his own.

He should have sent a note announcing his intention to pay a call. She might have arranged not to be home if he had, however. Even now he risked being told that she would not see him.

He would not take no for an answer.

He would see her and tell her of his plans.

And then he would give her a choice.

He still wished to marry her, but if she would not have him, he would, in truth, marry Miss Thompson.

It was the only way to keep Clara safe.

C
lara smiled at Jennie until she thought the indents would be permanently left upon her cheeks. She picked up her wine and took another sip. She wished she could be happier for them.

No, that was not right. She was happy for them, as happy as anyone could be. It was only that she could not find honest joy within herself.

She heard the knocker clack on the front door and did not even turn. She took another sip.

Perhaps she would finish this bottle and then the next.

The mumble of voices rose from the hall—the porter’s and—no, he would not come here. Her glass shook as she placed it back upon the table.

Robert had glanced at her as the voices rose in the hall. He did not change his expression at all, and still she could see his question.

Would she see Masters?

Was she ready to tell him yes?

Jennie chattered away, oblivious to the deep undercurrents in the room. Even with her own difficulties, Clara found herself wondering if Robert
would tell Jennie everything later that night. She hoped he would. There should be few secrets within a marriage.

There was silence in the hall, then the sound of approaching footsteps, only one pair—Masters was waiting to see if she would welcome him.

“Excuse me a moment,” she said as she rose. She did not want this encounter taking place here. “It seems as if I have another guest, and I fear it is some business I must attend to.”

“Of course,” said Jennie, as she inched closer to Robert on the settee. Clara imagined they would move in closer still as soon as she left the room.

Robert flashed her a brief smile of encouragement and then turned to his bride. At least they were happy. There was some satisfaction in that. She had not ruined their lives.

She walked to the door just as the porter raised his hand to knock. He stepped back, and she preceded him back down the hall.

Masters stood at the end. The light from the windows behind him cast him in deep silhouette, making it impossible to see his expression.

“Greetings, Lady Westington,” he said.

She forced her face into a smile and answered, “It is good to see you—Jonathan.”

“I was not sure if…” He paused as he registered her words.

“I thought we would talk in the library. We seem to have a great fondness for libraries.”

“Yes, of course.”

She turned and he followed her back down the
hall, past the parlor where Robert and Jennie sat.

“I’ve just had the most wonderful news,” she said. “Robert arrived this morning with Jennie. They were wed this past Sunday.”

“I am delighted to hear that. It must take a load of worry off your mind.”

The weight upon her mind still felt so great, she could not have said if it had lessened. Still, she nodded.

Then they were alone. Masters had left the door open the proper number of inches, but with a decisive click she shut it fully.

“I am glad you have come.” The words were softly spoken and were fully the truth. She was glad she had not had to send for him to tell him she had changed her mind. It already felt enough like begging.

She wondered if he had felt like this when she refused him.

He walked away from her, deeper into the room. “I was not sure you would be. I thought you might send me away. I was not even sure it was wise to come. Society has many eyes, and I was not sure you would wish anyone to know of our meeting.”

“No, I am glad. It is simpler this way.” She moved to her usual chair before the fire, waving him to the chair across from her.

Instead, he came and sat on the ottoman at her feet.

“I have something I must say,” she began.

“No, let me speak first,” he replied.

“If I do not say this now, I fear I will not have the words.”

He hesitated, but then nodded for her to proceed.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, which were rapidly knotting and twisting the fabric of her skirt. It was impossible to remember ever being so nervous.

Her fingers felt as if they moved on their own, and it took extreme effort to move them to stillness. Then she raised her head and stared straight into his endless blue eyes. “It would be my great pleasure to accept your offer and become your wife.”

There, the words were out.

He did not say anything, only stared at her.

What if he had changed his mind?

Masters did not know what to say. For a moment, his heart had filled with joy, but then he saw the misery in her face. This was not what she wanted. She agreed with desperation, not pleasure.

“You have decided you cannot face the shame?” he asked.

He watched as she pulled in a deep breath. “I cannot give up my whole life. I thought I could. Even standing there in that ballroom last night, I thought I could do it. But this morning I realized what the price would be. I want to be brave and insist that I can manage, but I cannot.”

It was everything he wanted and yet nothing. “And so you will be my wife.”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “And there is something more.”

Her hands were shaking, and he reached out and took them with his own.

“I am with child. The baby will be delivered in the late fall or early winter. It must have happened that one time in Aylsham.”

And the baby is mine?
He resisted putting the thought to words. He did not question her. He knew the child was his, but the shock of it kept the question echoing through his mind.

He was going to be a father.

And then another thought occurred. “How long have you known? Surely, you have not just realized.”

Her gaze fell from his, and he could feel her hands clench to fists within his grasp.

She spoke very quietly. “I have known since the day before you told me you had decided to marry Miss Thompson.”

“And you didn’t tell me.” It was not a question.

“No.”

He rose to his feet suddenly, dropping her hands. He began to pace the room. “And what were you going to do? Take some potion and be rid of it? Or have you tried that already?”

“No.” She rose to her own feet and walked toward him. “I could never have done that. I planned to go north until the baby was born. I had not decided quite how to proceed after that. I was either going to claim the child as my ward or pass it off as my maid’s. I just don’t know.”

“You would rather have raised a bastard than tell me.”

“I was coming to tell you, but instead, you told me that you were going to marry Miss Thompson.”

“I would never have even thought of marrying her if I had known. You should have told me, regardless of all else.”

“I wanted to, but I was afraid you would act like this. I didn’t want you if you wished to be married to someone else. And all the reasons I did not think we would suit still stand.”

“But you will marry me now—to save yourself?”

“Yes.” Her voice was very small, even though she stood straight. “And the child. I could not bear to have the whole world know him a bastard. It would not be fair.”

“And your other plan would have been?” He could not control the anger in his tone. “You have spoken to me so often of wanting your own choice, of how I should have given Violet and Isabella choices. Where is my choice? What choice did you give me?”

She did not answer, but chewed on her lower lip. He had never seen her look so young and vulnerable. She was normally so in control that he did not even think of her age; now it seemed unavoidable—still, it did not defuse his anger.

“I was wrong.” The words seemed torn from her lips. “I do not say that often, but I will admit it now. I should have told you, consulted with you. You are correct, I was doing exactly what I have accused you of.” She paused, and it seemed her
nervousness increased. “But my question remains. Do you still wish to wed me?”

What should he say? He had come here with a plan so firmly embedded in his mind. He would tell her that he would marry Miss Thompson and then wait to see if she would talk him out of it. Now everything had changed.

He was going to be a father. How could he possibly not take her acceptance and let the rest drop?

“I do,” he said.

Her lips twisted in a crooked smile. She looked relieved, but not happy. Her head dropped to her chest, and he could see her attempt to adjust to this new reality.

“However,” he continued, “there is another option.”

Her head jerked back up. “Another option?”

“You may have heard that there were rumors last night concerning myself and Miss Thompson. She approached me later in the evening and demanded that I marry her. If I do this, the rumors will all turn to her. Even those who are now sure that I was with a brunette, and that you were that brunette, will wonder and allow themselves to be persuaded. Why else would I wed her?”

“And the baby?”

He forced the words out between grinding teeth. “You can proceed with your plan. I cannot say that there will not be questions, but I am sure you can maintain some air of respectability for both you
and the child.” He could not say
my child
. That would make it too real, and he was not ready for that—not if he had to let them both go.

“You are really willing to do this?” She sank back in her chair, afraid her legs would give way.

“I would not have said so if I were not.”

“You do not sound pleased with the idea. As of early last evening, Miss Thompson was still your choice for a bride.”

“You know I changed my mind before all this happened.”

“Yes, I do.” She leaned her head back against the chair and stared up at the ceiling. “It is just all so much to take in.”

He came and sat across from her. “Yes, it is.”

“How do you feel about the baby? Do you want it, or is it just another responsibility? You clearly have a very large sense of responsibility and of your own duties in this world.”

“I cannot deny that. I do, however, want the child rather desperately.” His gaze locked with hers, and there could be no doubting the sincerity with which he spoke.

She lowered her head and met his gaze, her eyes searching. “But still you would let us go?”

“If it is what you want. I learned my lesson with Isabella. You cannot force others to be what you want them to be; it can lead only to disaster. I must accept that my sister would never have been driven to do what she did and then to flee, if I had not impelled her.”

“I think I wanted not to have a choice. It is so much easier to let fate decide. I feel like such a fool. I demanded choice, and now I wish I did not have it.”

He leaned toward her. “But you do have it. I cannot decide for you.”

“Yes, then I will marry you.” Her voice was the barest whisper.

She could not believe she had said the words—and not once, but twice that day. There was relief in having it done, however.

“There is one more thing,” he added.

“What?” She could not imagine what else was left besides the details of planning. All things considered, the wedding must be soon—even then there would be talk, but society would soon move to the next scandal once the proprieties had been observed.

He rose again and paced to the window. He looked out for a moment before turning back to her and fixing her with an expression that was hard to read. “I have not told you the whole story about Isabella.”

“I know you have not. There is much I have guessed from what you and Violet have told me and what gossip there has been. I know she disappeared and Foxworthy was killed. The world may not have fully put these two events together, but there must be some connection. And Violet told me of the blackmail. I know that your father made mistakes, mistakes which you have paid for. I do not need to know more.”

“That is much more simple than it was and it leaves out several important pieces. Pieces not even Violet knows of.”

That caught her attention. “What else could there be?”

“You know that Foxworthy was using blackmail to force me to let him wed Isabella.”

“You know I do. We have had many arguments about it.”

“What you don’t know, what nobody knows, is that in the end—when I realized how opposed Isabella was to the match and what steps Violet would take to prevent it—I went to Foxworthy and I told him I could not do it. That I would face the consequences.”

“It still would have been simpler to just give Isabella the choice.” The words were out before she could stop them. Given her own recent behavior, she had no right to judge.

He flashed a look, but then continued, “Foxworthy was not willing to let it go. He demanded that if he could not have Isabella that I give him something else. He knew that his own power over me would diminish if things did not proceed as planned.”

“But what could he do?”

“He had me sign more papers, papers that incriminated me in high crimes. He promised to keep my father’s secrets if I would do this. I thought it would give Isabella a chance to find happiness before the world knew of our disgrace. I would already be ruined if the world knew my father had
been engaged in traitorous activities. It did not seem like a large price to pay.”

“But then Foxworthy was killed.”

“And then Isabella murdered Foxworthy.” He let the words hang.

She could only stare at him in confusion. Isabella killed Foxworthy. The very idea was preposterous. She had no words to say.

He saw the confusion on her face and gave more detail. “I told Isabella what Foxworthy had done, explained what he had demanded. I think I hoped that she would relent, would agree to the marriage and save us all.”

“That is not what happened.”

“No, it is possible that it is what she meant to happen. I did not know she had gone to see Foxworthy until later—until I found her standing over his body.”

“But you cannot be sure—”

“I am sure in my heart. If you could have seen how she looked, you would have been sure too. I drove my sister to kill a man. There, I have said the words.”

Clara could see how much it cost him. He had never truly admitted his own wrongdoing, and in those few sentences she could see it all. He was by no means as sure of himself as he pretended.