Falling for the Marquess (American Heiress Trilogy Book 2)

by Julianne MacLean

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

  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 as well as 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 be alone together.

  “Another day,” he said, and Clara felt a rush of happiness.

  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 even the 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 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 about 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 deeper connection between them—a connection that continued outside of the bedroom.

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

  He met her gaze and 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 was thinking of no one but him.

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

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

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

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

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

  Clara took in a breath as he leaned toward her and cupped her head in his hand, pulled her close for a kiss. She moaned blissfully 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. Her husband wanted to soothe her. He did not want her to feel like she was second choice.

  Gently, he laid her onto the soft grass and came down upon her, tilting his head this way and that as he kissed her. With roving hands, he reached lower and raised her skirts. The sensation of his fingers feathering over her thighs roused her senses and caused a flurry of butterflies deep inside her belly.

  Oh, how she needed to be the object of his desire at that 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 need.

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

  Her husband recognized the passion in her voice. Sensitive lover that he was, always willing to answer to a lady’s longings, he called up his extraordinary charms.

  Clara felt 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 suggestively, and she opened to him like a spring flower.

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

  “Tell me what you’d like this afternoon.” His voice was husky, provocative.

  “Why don’t you surprise me?”

  Her body relaxed and surrendered as Seger unfastened his breeches. A moment later, he was easing himself into her, slowly with grace and control, never taking his eyes off hers.

  They watched each other in the twilight as they made love at the water’s edge. It was peaceful by the lake. Clara had never known such contentment, such deep, soul-blazing love.

  After a time, his pace quickened, and he closed his eyes. He pushed into her firmly and held himself deep inside—so deep it felt as if he was filling her completely.

  A moment later, passions spent, Seger collapsed on top of her. “I think I just gave you everything I had.”

  “But I hope there will be something left for later,” she replied playfully.

  He propped himself up on both elbows and gave her the rakish grin that always melted her heart. “I’ll see to it. A hearty dinner should fill me up again.”

  He glanced at her hair and picked a few crisp, dead leaves out of it. “I’ve made a mess of you.”

  Clara laughed.

  He fixed his eyes on hers and rolled onto his back beside her, tossing his arms up under his head. “I’m glad you suggested this makeshift honeymoon. It’s been a delight so far.”

  Clara rested her cheek on her hand and rolled to face him. “Thank you for bringing me here. I know it wasn’t easy.”

  She saw in his eyes that he knew exactly what she was referring to. “No, Clara. It has not been that difficult.”

  “But you were thinking of her for quite some time, and you were very quiet a little while ago. You looked sad.”

  “Only because I haven’t thought of her in a long time, and that was my own choice. Being back here makes it impossible to ignore the memories, that’s all. And I suppose I’ve finally accepted that it’s time to say goodbye.” He hesitated before adding, “I want you to know that if she miraculously returned from the dead and knocked on my door this very night, I would still choose you.”

  For Clara, those words were music to her ears. She dropped her gaze to the matted grass, but there was still one more thing that had been weighing heavily on her mind.

  “Do I remind you of her?” she asked. “Is that why you married me?”

  Seger leaned closer. “Of course not.” He cradled her chin in his hand. “Clara, look at me. I admit that when I first saw you, I noticed a slight resemblance. Perhaps it’s what made me approach you, but since then I have not seen it. You’re different in every way. I don’t see her when I look at you. I only see you.”

  Clara accepted his explanation and reminded herself that even though this conversation about Daphne was painful in a way, it was a good thing. He was being open with her, and that was what she had wanted.

  “I understand if you need to think of her,” Clara said. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been here.”

  He touched her cheek, then leaned back on his elbows. “You’ve been very understanding. Most women would have slapped my face and stormed off by now.”

 
She tried to smile. “It means a great deal to me that you are honest with me, Seger, and if at anytime, you want to talk about her, I’ll listen. I want you to share your feelings with me.”

  He considered that for a few seconds, then kissed her. “Thank you, but I believe I will refrain from talking any more about my tragic youth. Let’s put it behind us, shall we?”

  He was right. It would hurt if he talked about Daphne constantly and told her private things about their relationship, because as much as Clara tried to be understanding, her heart was aching on the inside. She was only human after all.

  Seger fastened his breeches while Clara arranged her skirts, then he rose and helped her to her feet. He pulled the leaves out of her hair.

  As they mounted their horses, she thought about Seger coming there with Daphne, and how often he must have pulled leaves out of her hair. Clara imagined Seger making love to Daphne, telling her that he loved her, as he must have done hundreds of times.

  He does not love me, at least not yet. Not like he loved her.

  The thought came unbidden, made her stomach clench, but she forced herself to banish it.

  Chapter 20

  Dear Clara,

  It sounds like he romanticizes his first love, and now you must compete with the ghost of a perfect woman. I hope he will eventually see how fortunate he is to have you, for I know how deeply you love him. Every man should be so lucky...

  Adele

  Clara was the one he wanted. Seger knew it with absolute firmness of mind when he climbed into bed with her that night.

  Yes, he had thought of Daphne a number of times since he and Clara had arrived at Rawdon Hall, but the memories were distant. They were vague and seemed almost childish, for he had been a mere adolescent when he’d first met Daphne. He was only sixteen. He had fallen madly, hopelessly in love, but he was no longer that innocent, optimistic young boy. He had changed a great deal in the years since. He had lived a completely altered existence.

  He wondered how he would feel about Daphne if he met her now, for the first time. He would probably not even notice her in a crowd of other women. He was far too experienced, or perhaps jaded was a better word.

  “I enjoyed myself today,” Clara said sweetly as she inched down under the covers. “I love this house, Seger, and I love the countryside. I will look forward to returning here after the Season has ended.”

  “As will I,” he replied with some surprise. He rolled on top of her, pressed his lips to her delicate mouth, and smiled. “Because this bed—with you in it—is like a little corner of heaven on earth.”

  His “experience” had moved him to choose Clara out of an endless sea of eager, predatory females. Now, Clara was there with him, in the flesh. She was no ghost. Her patience and understanding—knowing that he was thinking of another woman from his past—only served to shore up his respect for her. She had understood the complexities of the situation—that he couldn’t help but think of Daphne after returning to Rawdon Hall for the first time since her death—yet Clara had been sympathetic and tolerant.

  How could he not love her for that?

  Seger kissed her with an unruly passion and helped her pull her nightdress over her head.

  Seger did not mention Daphne again during the rest of their stay at Rawdon Hall, but Clara took note of the times he was quiet and melancholy and suspected that he was thinking of her.

  Nevertheless, she enjoyed their private time together and felt that by being understanding and patient, she had gained Seger’s respect. They had, in fact, forged a closer bond.

  Now, back in London and riding alone in the coach on her way home from a brief shopping excursion, Clara reflected on her marriage and began to believe that a deeper love between herself and her husband was indeed possible. Likely even, if they continued in the direction they were going. They had come forward a great distance since their wedding day. Seger had opened up to her completely at Rawdon Hall. He had held her tenderly in the night, and he had appreciated her understanding.

  Clara sighed heavily as a wave of relief and contentment moved through her. She felt optimistic about her marriage now, for the very first time.

  The coach stopped at an intersection, and without warning, her door opened, and a man stepped inside.

  “Sir!” she shouted. “This is not a hackney cab! Get out please!”

  Before she had a chance to call to her driver, the coach lurched forward, and the man settled himself on the seat beside her.

  She gazed at the familiar face, and it was as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. All she could do was murmur his name.

  “Gordon.”

  “Yes.” He stared at her for a few seconds. “Upon my word, Clara, you are more beautiful today than you were the last time I saw you. How is that even possible?” He placed his hand on his chest, as if he were trying to still his beating heart.

  Panic surged into her veins and Clara had to fight to think clearly. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in prison.”

  “I was released three months ago.”

  “But you promised you would never contact me again. What do you want?”

  He lounged back in the seat and rested both hands on his walking stick. “Straight to the point, as usual. It’s what I always admired most about you, Clara. You always knew exactly what you wanted. Well, almost always.” He smiled—a sinister, knowing smile—and leaned toward her, as if he wanted to sniff her.

  Clara slid away from him. “I am married now, Gordon. I don’t wish to see you. I must insist that get out of my coach immediately. Driver!”

  But the driver didn’t seem to hear her.

  “Yes, I know all about your triumphant marriage,” Gordon said. “It was splashed all over the New York papers.”

  Clara tried to keep her breathing slow and steady. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

  “Why do you think I’m here?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that I want you to leave.” How could she ever have been so young and foolish as to allow this man into her life?

  He shook his head at her. “You must know I’ve never stopped loving you.”

  Clara frowned. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You never loved me. You wanted my father’s money, and you got it when we parted—a great deal of it—so you had better leave now before he finds out about this, and takes steps to see you back in prison for blackmail.”

  “I don’t wish to blackmail you,” Gordon replied. “I only wanted to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve been thinking of you every night since we parted…every wretched night I was in prison. Surely you remember what we had together. How exciting it was.”

  She slid away from him again, disgusted by his mendacity. “I remember nothing! You manipulated me and lied to me.” When he did not respond to those accusations, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you send that telegram to my husband on our wedding day?”

  He considered the question for a moment. “No, that wasn’t me.”

  “But obviously you know about it. Who did you tell? Who sent it?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m here only to see you again for my own personal reasons, and to remind you of the love we shared.”

  “It wasn’t love, and the only thing I am reminded of is filth. Get out of my carriage, Gordon, and do not ever contact me again.”

  “But I don’t want to get out.”

  He moved closer until she was pinned up against the side of the coach. He moved his face in slow circles in front of hers, so close she could almost feel his mouth touching hers. She turned her face away in disgust.

  “I want to be with you again,” he said. “We belong together. Surely your husband of all people will be open to his wife taking a lover. Based on what I’ve he
ard about him, he would probably encourage it.”

  Clara tried to squirm out of his grasp. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it isn’t true. Our marriage isn’t like that.”

  He continued to paw at her, kissing the side of her head. “You’re dreaming if you think he isn’t taking lovers of his own. If nothing else, why not get revenge?”

  “Let go of me!”

  Just then, the coach bumped, and Clara glanced out the window. “We are almost at Rawdon House,” she said in a panic. “Get out of here, Gordon, or I will call my husband out to remove you himself, and I guarantee he won’t be gentle.”

  Gordon glanced out the window as well. “Damn. I suppose I should hop out now before he finds out about us.” He slid away and picked up his hat. “As the English say, Cheerio.”

  He opened the door and leaped onto the street, leaving Clara behind to still her racing heart.

  “There is no us!” she shouted after him.

  The coach reached Rawdon House and stopped. Clara bolted inside to tell Seger what had happened, for she had vowed on their wedding day that there would be no more secrets, and she intended to keep that promise.

  Seger descended the stairs at his club. He had been informed that Quintina was waiting for him outside with an urgent message. She had never come looking for him at his club before.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, exiting the building and letting the door fall closed behind him.

  Quintina was pacing back and forth on the pavement. “Seger, I apologize for interrupting you, but may we take a walk?”

  He stared at her a moment, then met her at the wrought iron gate and offered his arm. “Certainly.”

  “I have something to tell you,” she said, as they strolled down the street, “and I don’t know exactly how to say it. It has come as a shock to me, and I hope it will not be unduly painful for you to hear.”

  “What is it, Quintina?”