“There was nothing to see.” He took a few more cautious steps closer.
She responded by turning her back on him and walking to the other side of the room. “That is a matter of opinion.” Every instinct she possessed sensed the intensity of his nearness as he quietly approached.
“No, it is not a matter of opinion,” he said. “Listen to me.” He turned her to face him. “I had to speak to Daphne to understand what had happened. I was in shock. You must understand that.”
“I’ve understood everything, Seger. I’ve done nothing but understand, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep coming up with excuses for my uncertainties about our marriage. I can’t continue to be understanding and patient, when I am actually frightened to death on the inside. I don’t trust you. I realized that this morning. I felt sick watching you go off to talk to her. I was sure you were going to leave me.”
“I’m not going to leave you.”
She looked into his eyes and saw sincerity. Desperation. But after everything she’d been through, she wasn’t sure she could believe it. Maybe this was just his way of appeasing her, so that she would give him the freedom he needed to....
She didn’t want to think about the rest.
Clara went to the table beside the crib and began to put Liam’s toys back into the toy trunk, one by one.
“She wanted to become my mistress,” Seger said.
Clara froze, then forced herself to continue putting the toys away. “That’s not surprising. There are a number of women in London who want the same thing.”
“But I don’t want them. Nor do I want Daphne. I told her that. She is going back to America.”
Clara whirled around to face him. “How can I believe you? She’s the reason you never married for eight years! She’s the reason you haven’t been able to love me!”
He shook his head at her. “Maybe she was the reason I chose to live as I did, but she has nothing to do with what is between us today.”
He moved closer and cupped her face in his hands. “I’m sorry I have not been able to love you, Clara, but it had nothing to do with Daphne. It was because I had become so accustomed to a certain way of life, it became almost impossible to imagine anything different. I’d begun to believe that I wasn’t capable of loving one woman. But from the first moment I saw you, I knew you were different. Everything about you was different, the way you looked, the way you made me feel. All other women were eclipsed by you, and they still are. You have been my friend and my lover, my confidante and my companion. You have made every day feel like heaven, and I think of nothing but you when we are apart. I could no more live without you than I could live without air in my lungs. I would die if I lost you, and that—I believe—is love.”
Clara saw the light in her husband’s eyes, and slowly blinked. Could she believe him?
“Seger....”
She had no idea what she wanted to say. All she knew was that her husband was kissing her. Holding her in his arms and calming her, soothing her.
He was such a magnificent kisser. Her body throbbed at the exquisite sensation of her breasts pressing up against the firm wall of his chest. Heat issued forth and simmered between them where their bodies touched. The tight, close contact began to melt the ice crystals she had worked so hard to forge around her heart.
He continued to hold her face in his hands as he gazed down into her eyes. Her body ached with desire. “I want no woman but you, Clara. I love you, and I will always love you.”
She felt herself bending to his will as she always did. How could she not? She was melting in his arms, burning to give herself over to his strong skillful hands, quivering with the need to feel his flesh next to hers.
She labored to subdue such weakness. She had to be strong. She could not give in so easily. This was a turning point in her life. She would set the rules now and demand his fidelity and respect, otherwise give him the power to tramp all over her heart in the years to come.
Her voice was steady as she spoke. “How can I trust that you’re telling me the truth? That you’re not going to go back to your old ways as soon as this is forgotten? I can’t live like that, Seger, and I won’t. I would rather spend my life alone than suffer that kind of anguish, and I will spend it alone if you cannot be constant.”
He stroked her hair tenderly. “Clara, I will be faithful to you until the day I die, and beyond.”
“Those are just words, Seger. I need more than that. I need proof.”
“Here’s your proof!” He placed her open palm on his chest. “I have changed. Every day since I met you, I’ve moved farther away from the shell of the man that I was. I feel it inside myself. I’m whole again. Surely you can see it, too.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Can’t you see it in my eyes? Hear it in my voice? Feel it in your heart? God, this morning Daphne appeared, alive, and offered to be my mistress, and I sent her away. Isn’t that proof enough that you are the only woman in the world for me? That my heart beats for you and you alone? I love you, Clara. You are my entire world.”
Tears of joy welled up in her eyes as she gazed at her husband and listened to all he said. Really listened. He was right—he had changed, and she could see it in his eyes. Still, she was so afraid to trust her instincts.
But she did love him. That much she knew.
“I love you, too,” she said.
He gathered her into his arms and held her tight, kissing her cheeks and neck and finally her mouth.
“Clara, you have given me so much, even when I gave nothing in return. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you. I want to have children with you and grow old with you. I want to prove to you that I will be the most faithful husband England has ever known.”
A wealth of emotions cascaded over Clara as she stared up at her beautiful husband in the afternoon light that was pouring in the nursery window.
“I sent Quintina and Gillian away,” he added. “They will never have another opportunity to cause you pain. No one will if I can help it.”
He kissed her again until her lips were burning with need. She clutched at him, feeling as if all her dreams had come true. She did trust him. Deep in her soul, she knew he was the man she’d always believed him to be. Today, she had feared the worst. She had thought she would be heartbroken for the rest of her life, but he had pulled her out of that abyss and shown her what was real.
“Please know in your heart,” he said, “that I will never leave you, nor will I ever go back to the empty existence that was my wretched life before you walked into it. You are my whole world, Clara, and I love you with all my heart.”
She smiled and gazed into his fathomless green eyes, then wrapped her arms around his neck and cried tears of pure, perfect joy.
Epilogue
Three weeks later
Quintina entered the blue guest chamber—the room Gillian had taken at her brother’s home in Wales. A note lay on the dresser.
Dear Auntie,
I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I am leaving. I am going to America to marry Gordon Tucker because I have fallen in love with him. He is a handsome and exciting man, and he tells me I am pretty. I believe I have finally found true happiness.
Love,
Gillian
P.S. I took the diamond pendent that you lent me, as we were short of funds.
Quintina read the note twice, then sank onto a chair by the bed. No, no. No! Gillian could not have gone off with a prison convict. She could not have been so foolish! She could have married a duke or an earl!
What would Susan think if she were alive today? She would blame Quintina for not making things right, for not taking better control of her daughter.
Quintina buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She could not accept that her niece—her dead sister’s only child—was going to become an American!
Clara rai
sed the covers for Seger to slide into bed beside her, and inched down cozy and warm. “I’ve been waiting for you for almost ten minutes. What took you so long?”
He smiled that rakish grin that she loved. “I wanted to make sure my robe was on straight and my hair was just right.”
“Why?” she asked in a coquettish voice. “It’s just me.”
“Just you? You are the center of the universe, my love.”
“Not for long,” she replied.
He gazed questioningly at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, there’s going to be a new center in our universe very soon. In about eight months to be exact.”
His eyes sparked with joy. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I saw the doctor today.”
Seger gazed down at her flat stomach and rested his warm hand upon it. “A baby.”
“Yes, Seger. Our first child.”
He lowered his lips to hers. “I am the luckiest man on earth. You have made me so.”
“Just as you have made me the luckiest woman.”
Seger covered her body with his own and kissed her again, more deeply this time with full abandon. His hips thrust forth, gently but firmly, causing a sensuous arousal deep in her feminine core. She pressed her own hips forward and wrapped her legs around him.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, and laid a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.
“I love you, too. I never knew life could be so wonderful, Seger. Make love to me.”
He grinned and nuzzled her nose. “I will fulfill your every desire, my lady. Where would you like me to begin?”
Clara smiled in return. “Wherever you wish. You always seem to know what I want before I know it myself.” She lifted her head off the pillow and kissed his open mouth, then relaxed as his lips made their way down her neck to the open collar of her nightgown. Gooseflesh shimmied down her spine. He slid his warm hand inside and Clara sighed with enchantment.
“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked, sliding her nightgown up, and cupping her behind in his hand. “You have given me such pleasure.”
“More than just pleasure, I hope.”
“Much more.” He positioned himself above her and paused.
“I want all of you,” she said.
His voice was laced with seductive teasing. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her on the nose in the flickering candlelight. “Positively sure?”
Her head came off the pillow as her body trembled with need. “Yes!” she cried out, laughing.
Seger smiled. “Then you may have all of me, my love, for the rest of my days and beyond. Thank you for giving me back my life.”
Then slowly, very slowly, he pushed into her until she quivered all over with ecstasy.
Author’s Note
According to Oscar Wilde, the English gentleman admired the American woman for her “extraordinary vivacity, her electrical quickness of repartee, her inexhaustible store of curious catchwords.” If such a woman was also an heiress, all the better.
In the late Victorian period and early in the twentieth century, approximately one hundred American heiresses married British nobles. A fair exchange of titles for money became the business of the day, and millions of American dollars wound up in the hands of impoverished English lords, who certainly couldn’t work to replenish their bank accounts. That would have been ungentlemanly.
In that light, marrying for money was nothing new in the British aristocracy. It had been going on for centuries. With modern industrialization in America, however, Wall Street had come into its own. New Money was everywhere, and there was a freshly stocked market for brides who were not only wealthy, but beautiful and spirited as well.
But why were these American fathers willing to send their daughters and their hard-earned fortunes across an ocean to a country they had fought a war against one hundred years before?
As Marion Fowler states in her book, In a Gilded Cage, they longed for “the poetry of class.” They felt the chill from those with “old money” in America, who turned their noses up at a society that had earned its fortune, not inherited it. The “new rich” wanted respectability, refinement, and something more than mere economic standing.
Princess Diana’s great grandmother was an American heiress. In 1880, Frances Work of Newport married the Honorable James Burke-Roche, younger brother of an Irish baron. Burke-Roche had traveled to America and spent time in Wyoming, raising cattle, before meeting the woman of his dreams—the beautiful and very wealthy daughter of a Vanderbilt stockbroker. The couple traveled back to England where they had twin sons, one of which was Diana’s grandfather.
Winston Churchill is another offspring of a transatlantic marriage. His mother was Jennie Jerome of New York, who in 1874 married Lord Randolph Churchill, second son of the seventh Duke of Marlborough. He proposed to her when she was nineteen, three days after meeting her on board a cruise ship, at a ball held in honor of the Prince and Princess of Wales. In 1895, Randolph died. Jennie married two more times and devoted herself to her son’s political career. Jennie had two sisters who also married Englishmen.
I hope you’ll look for the other books in my American Heiress trilogy, based on three fictional American sisters: Sophia, Clara and Adele. Sophia’s book is To Marry the Duke and Adele’s story is called Falling for the Viscount. Read on for an excerpt from that novel.
After that, you might enjoy the spinoff trilogy about other members of the Duke of Wentworth’s family. That trilogy begins with Love According to Lily, the story of the duke’s younger sister. A complete booklist follows.
If you would like to stay informed about my future releases, or learn about my monthly autographed book giveaway, please visit my website at www. juliannemaclean.com and sign up for my email newsletter. I would love to send news to you. Lastly, if you would like to know when an ebook edition from my backlist goes on sale for 99¢ (or is occasionally offered for free), please go to my author profile on Bookbub and click the “follow” button. You’ll be sent an email whenever there’s a flash sale. I am also on Facebook and Twitter where I chat with readers every day.
–Julianne
In Love with the Viscount
Could this love nonsense really be worth the trouble?
To Adele Wilson the answer is clear: of course not! She has seen her two sisters dragged through scandal and heartbreak (not to mention every ballroom in London) to find the husbands of their dreams. And that’s why she said yes to the first British lord who requested her hand. And why shouldn’t she marry him? He is kind, honest, and not sentimental in the least.
Unlike his wilder, more mysterious cousin Damien Renshaw, Viscount Alcester. Ignoring Damien altogether would be easy if he were the sort of man intent on seducing his cousin’s betrothed. But he is clearly trying to resist her, and his suddenly proper behavior only makes him more tempting to the usually well-behaved Adele. Indeed, Damien seems to be bringing out another side of Adele, a heady, passionate, exhilarating side. It seems that fate is contriving to teach her — against her best intentions — exactly what this love nonsense is all about …
Excerpt from
In Love with the Viscount
Teaser Excerpt
Copyright Julianne MacLean Publishing Inc. 2020
Prologue
May 1884
Inside the lavish interior of the SS Fortune, steaming smoothly across the deep, dark Atlantic at night, Adele Wilson stood in her first-class stateroom and gazed uncertainly at her reflection in the mirror.
A heavy lump formed in her belly. Why? Everything was as it should be. Her mother was in the adjoining cabin to her left, her sister Clara to her right. Adele had just eaten a delicious supper at the captain’s elaborate table and was about to undress for bed and read a most thought-provoking novel before turnin
g down the lamp and going to sleep.
She removed a pearl and diamond drop earring and watched it sparkle in her hand. She closed her fist around it, then looked up at her reflection again.
She felt oddly disconnected from the floor, as if she were in someone else’s body. A stranger was staring back at her—an elegant, sophisticated heiress who wore a jewel-trimmed Worth gown from Paris made of the finest silk money could buy, and around her neck, an antique, pearl-and-diamond choker to match the earrings.
She turned away from the mirror and looked around. Suddenly, even the room seemed wrong. Wrong. There was no other word for it. Carved mahogany panels covered the walls, the ceiling was painted gold with extravagant ornamentation around a dazzling crystal chandelier. The sheets on her bed boasted the ship’s monogram, and all the fixtures, from the doorknobs to the lamps, right down to the nails in the bulkhead, were polished brass, pompously gleaming.
Sometimes it seemed as if she were living someone else’s life. She had not been born into this wealth. She didn’t even know how to feel comfortable with it. At the moment, she felt as if she shouldn’t touch anything.
Adele sighed. What she wouldn’t give to be riding bareback through the woods as she used to do when she was younger, before they’d moved to the city and ventured into high society. Oh, to smell the damp earth and the leaves on the ground, and the green moss around the lake....
She inhaled deeply, longingly, wanting to remember, but smelled only the expensive perfume she wore. Feeling absurdly deprived, she exhaled.
It’s nerves, she decided, crossing to her bed and removing the other earring and setting both of them on the night table. Tomorrow she would greet her future husband, Lord Osulton. An English earl. The newspapermen would probably be there to greet the ship and take her picture. No wonder she was nervous.
She would get through it, however.
Falling for the Marquess (American Heiress Trilogy Book 2) Page 28
