Falling for the Marquess (American Heiress Trilogy Book 2)

by Julianne MacLean

  Sophia stopped and faced Clara. “But you seemed so upset when you wrote the letter. Has Gillian said anything else like that since then?”

  “A few things, yes, but I’ve learned to ignore it and do my best not to let it bother me. I believe she is unhappy and spiteful, but I wouldn’t say that to anyone but you. I can’t insult or scorn Seger’s relations. His stepmother would hate me, and I don’t want that. I want to be accepted by his family.”

  They began walking again. “But if she is saying things intentionally to hurt you, you should tell your husband.”

  “I can’t right now. When I imagine myself repeating the things she says, it truly does sound like nothing. She’s never said anything outwardly damaging. It’s merely her tone and the look in her eye that insinuate things. Seger would think I was being ‘irrational’ again. In his opinion, Gillian is a harmless, shy girl who wouldn’t know a nasty thought if it bit her on the nose. Besides, I think it bothers him that I don’t trust him.”

  Sophia spoke softly. “But do you think he would take her side over yours? He should realize by now that you are not irrational. Certainly, there must be some deeper affection between you. Is there?”

  Clara swallowed uneasily. “I don’t know.”

  Sophia led her to an alcove where they could sit down and speak in private. “Has he told you he loves you?”

  Clara lowered her gaze. “No, and I have no idea if he is even moving in that direction. He treats me with kindness and consideration, but....”

  “Does he sleep all night with you?”

  “Yes, every night.”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  “I suppose. He is very tender and loving and he flatters me, but I believe that is his natural way when he makes love to women. It’s why they all want him so badly.”

  Sophia shook her head. “You mustn’t think about other women, Clara. His bachelor days are over, and you are his only bed partner. Unless.... You don’t suspect that he is—”

  “No, no. We are together every night and there has never been any evidence of...well, another woman’s perfume or anything like that.”

  Sophia leaned back and looked the other way. “I can’t believe we are even discussing such things. There is no need of it, really.”

  “No, you’re right,” Clara replied. “Truly, I have banished such concerns over the past few weeks. Well, for the most part. He really has been wonderful, Sophia.”

  “I’m glad. And if Gillian continues to strike out at you, it will all come around. Seger’s an intelligent man, and he will see the truth for what it is.”

  Clara sighed gratefully. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  Sophia clasped her hand. “You would get along just fine.”

  After meeting with his solicitor to discuss a small financial matter, Seger walked through Piccadilly and found himself dreaming about his wife.

  He’d never imagined marriage would turn out to be so immensely pleasurable. He’d certainly had his doubts.

  Well…. He still had his doubts. There was the issue of Clara not trusting him, which continued to trouble him, but he hoped that would soon take care of itself. He was doing his best to work through it.

  Other than that, Clara was beautiful, amusing, enchanting. He was surprised to discover how much he enjoyed simply talking to her. They often stayed up late, conversing about their days as well as books and art and society. He adored her impressions of life and people. Her original, insightful opinions always fascinated him. Perhaps it was because she was American and had been brought up with different values. He appreciated how she made him look at life.

  He also realized that he was beginning to feel less awkward in relating to her on a personal level. It was as if something inside him had awakened. He didn’t know what to say about it, though…or if he should say anything at all. Things were so easy between them, maybe there was no need. Clara seemed happier in their marriage. Perhaps she could sense what was growing between them and would learn to trust him over time.

  If only he could go back and repeat that unfortunate argument they’d had about Gillian. He would handle it differently. He would be less defensive. He certainly wouldn’t walk out on her. Perhaps tonight he would apologize for the way he had handled that conversation and ask Clara if she still felt uncomfortable around his cousin.

  He passed a dress shop and stopped to look at a ball gown in the window. It would look stunning on Clara. She would outshine every woman in London. In the world, for that matter, with her dazzling smile and winsome laughter. The color of the dress was magnificent. He moved on and decided he would tell her about the dress that night. She might want to have a look at it herself.

  Good heavens, he thought with a smile, tapping his walking stick along the ground. He must be deeply besotted if he was going to talk to his wife about a dress. Imagine that.

  He became aware of his stomach growling, so he turned into a small cafe. After being seated at the back, he ordered the lamb and requested a newspaper.

  Not five minutes later, he heard someone speak his name and looked up.

  “Quintina. Gillian.” He set down the paper and stood. “What are you two doing here?”

  As he rose to greet his stepmother, he realized that their relationship had not been quite so strained lately. He had not thought about his anger toward her concerning Daphne, which had been the leading wedge between them for years. He wondered if Clara’s companionship was affecting him in imperceptible ways that were influencing other areas of his life.

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Quintina said. “We’ve been shopping and thought we would stop for a bite to eat.”

  Seger gestured toward the empty chairs at his table. “Please join me.”

  The ladies ordered their meals and told Seger about their purchases—hair ribbons and combs for Gillian, a hat for Quintina. Just before the food arrived, however, Quintina pressed a hand to her head.

  “My word, I have developed the most painful headache.”

  Gillian touched her hand. “Can I get you anything, Auntie?”

  “No, no, thank you, dear.” She touched her head again. “Ooh. It is quite severe.” Glancing around the cafe, she said, “I believe I will skip lunch. Would you mind, Seger, if I leave you to bring Gillian home? I wouldn’t want to spoil her afternoon.”

  “Certainly.”

  “That’s not necessary, Auntie,” Gillian said. “I’ll go with you.”

  At that moment, the food arrived. “Don’t be silly, my dear girl. Enjoy your lunch.”

  Seger walked Quintina to the door, then returned to his table. He spent a pleasant hour with Gillian, though as usual, he had to work hard to keep the conversation going.

  Clara dressed for dinner and walked to the drawing room. She did not expect to see Seger, for he had told her he would be dining at his club with an old friend from Charterhouse who now lived in India—but who was in London for a fortnight.

  Clara entered the drawing room. Gillian stood in front of the window, looking out. She turned and smiled brightly when Clara entered the room.

  “My, don’t you look lovely this evening,” Gillian said.

  Clara wondered how it was possible that Gillian could be so hateful at times and so sweet at others. Sitting down on the sofa, she wished she had brought a book with her so she wouldn’t feel obligated to talk, but she had not thought of it, so here she was.

  Gillian sat down next to her. “Did Seger tell you?”

  The look in the young woman’s eyes made Clara’s stomach careen with dread. “About what?”

  “About the dress? We had lunch together in Piccadilly today, and he told me how much he liked it. I believe he was thinking of it for you.”

  “You believe?”

  And my husband met you for lunch?

  They’
re cousins, she told herself. Cousins sometimes ate together.

  Gillian stared at her blankly. “Yes, I think that’s what he meant when he mentioned it, though I suppose one can never be sure.”

  Clara decided not to respond to that. In fact, she was not going to say one single word. She would not help Gillian spin any tales.

  The tense silence caused Gillian to rise to her feet. She wandered to the mantel and fiddled with knickknacks as if she were bored. “It was a very nice lunch, except for when we talked about Lady Cleveland. I hope I didn’t sound too angry.”

  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 despise that woman. I suppose you must feel the same way. 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 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 in life to suffer through that sort of thing, isn’t it?”

  That was it.

  Clara could not endure one more minute of this petty harassment. She stood up. “I’ve had enough of this, Gillian.”

  Gillian put on an innocent air. “Clara, what’s wrong? 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. Your purpose is obvious. You’re like a bad actress in a bad play, and if I weren’t so appalled by your duplicitous behavior, I might find it amusing.”

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

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

  Gillian narrowed her eyes and approached Clara. “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’m insinuating nothing. In fact, I hope I am being very frank. You can’t stomach 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, do not blame me for what is missing in your marriage, and do not go complaining to him about me either, 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 and 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.

  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 nodded 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. “May I please come in?”

  “Of course.” Clara stepped aside.

  Quintina moved to the center of the room. “You were quiet at dinner. Is everything all right?”

  Clara thought carefully about how she should answer that question. She could hardly confide in Quintina and tell her that she’d had a huge fight with her niece, especially knowing how much the woman loved and doted on her twin sister’s only child.

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

  “I was just tired, that’s all.”

  Quintina nodded but seemed unconvinced. She let her gaze sweep the room. “You have so 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 all so lovely, even then.” She set the picture down and met Clara’s eyes again. “Please tell me what has upset 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 even mentioning that horrid woman’s name in this house. I’m afraid she’ll never forgive herself.”

  Quintina stepped forward and hugged Clara. The warm gesture was unexpected, and Clara had to work hard to keep her guard up.

  “It was kind of you to come and check on me,” Clara said.

  The woman drew back and touched Clara on the nose. “I couldn’t help it. You seemed so miserable.”

  “Truly, I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Quintina was reluctant to let go of Clara. “You mustn’t worry about Lady Cleveland. The woman just appeals to Seger’s rebellious side. 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 the affair, as any married man 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 hotly inside her heart.

  After a few seconds, Quintina moved to 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 ponder everything that had occurred that day, and finally decide to talk to her husband about it as soon as he arrived home.

  Clara would be calm and rational in her quest for the truth, and under no circumstances would she give in to the urge to throw a vase.

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

  “Did you have a nice time tonight?” Clara asked in a pleasant voice, though 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. Lord Cobequid is looking well. He intends to return to India in a few weeks.”

  Seger told her about their dinner and billiards game. Then he related some of Lord Cobequid’s tales of the British colony abroad and s
lipped into bed beside her.

  “How was your evening?”

  “Interesting. Strange,” she replied. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

  “How about at the beginning?” He sat back and waited patiently for her to elaborate.

  “All right. I spoke to Gillian tonight,” she finally explained, not caring if the subject exploded in her face and drove her husband from the room like it did the last time. At this point, she would welcome a fight if it meant honesty and candor between them, no matter how disagreeable it was for Seger.

  To her surprise, he sat forward and took her hand. “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 spoke about her. It was wrong of me. I should have been a better listener.”

  Clara sat up. “Seger, I...”

  She what, exactly? She hadn’t expected him to offer an apology, and she didn’t have a clue what she wanted to say in response. She was relieved, of course, but something inside her was suspicious about why he was offering an apology on this, of all nights. He’d had lunch with Gillian that day. Had he suspected, like Clara, that Gillian had feelings for him? Was he ready to take Clara’s side and tell her she’d been right all along?

  Or was he trying to appease her because he was hiding something else—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 apologize for that as well. Our marriage came to fruition very quickly, and I will admit now that I was apprehensive during our engagement, but I’ve since 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 married life far more pleasant than I ever could have imagined.”