An Affair Most Wicked (16 page)

Clara’s would match that.

“Thank you for the compliment, Your Grace,” she said.

He was not satisfied. “May I indulge in some hope that you might change your mind if I give you time?”

She didn’t know what to say. She hated rejecting the duke, and there was of course a chance that Lord Rawdon would break her heart in the coming weeks. The possibility that she might be burning all her bridges loomed over her.

“I really don’t know, Your Grace. I don’t wish to give you any false hopes.”

He stared into her eyes for a moment. His darkened. “Is there someone else?”

Clara swallowed nervously. “I can’t say.”

“Can’t say?” His voice revealed agitation. Tension moved through Clara’s neck and shoulders. “You’re making a stupid mistake. You know that, don’t you?”

The duke’s harsh tone cleared her of any regret about rejecting him. She was now certain that she had done the right thing.

When she did not reply, he grabbed hold of her hand and pressed it against his cold lips. He began to drop hard kisses up her arm. “Maybe this is what a woman like you wants.”

His mouth reached the inside of her elbow, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in disgust. Heart pounding, she pulled her arm out of his grasp.

The duke’s petulant gaze shot to her face. Recognizing her revulsion, he sat up straighter. “I was right. Your interests do lie elsewhere.”

She tried to shake her head, but his eyes narrowed with accusation.

“I want to marry you,” he said. “I want to treat you with the respect you deserve. The Marquess of Rawdon does not.”

Clara stared at him, dumbfounded.
The Marquess of Rawdon
?

How did the duke know? No one had seen her last night. The marquess had come to call on her once, but surely that wasn’t enough to connect…

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”

“It is your choice, Clara. You can be a duchess or you can be a slut.”

Clara sucked in a breath. She had never been spoken to in such a manner. She certainly had not expected this from the duke, who had always appeared to be the epitome of proper, gentlemanly behavior.

Fury began to rage inside her. She stood. “Please leave.”

She made a move to walk around the sofa and open the drawing room door for him, but he grabbed hold of her arm.

“I will leave when you’ve realized your folly. You’ve attended two Cakras Balls and you have become besotted with a notorious rake. I saw the two of you here in this very room at your sister’s assembly. A few others did as well. I assure you, there were whispers. You do not emit purity, my dear. There’s something unchaste about you, and you have affiliated yourself with the marquess—a known degenerate. I am willing to overlook that fact because the damage is still reparable at this point, and offer you a respectable escape.”

“Respectable escape?” She jerked her arm from his grasp. “I asked you to leave.”

“I don’t believe you want me to do that.”

“And why not?”

“Because I have the power to destroy you, Miss Wilson. To put it in plainer terms, if you do not accept my offer, I most certainly will.”

“He said
what
?” Sophia asked, her voice brimming with horror and shock.

Clara sat numbly on the sofa. “He told me that it was my choice. That I could be a duchess or a slut. Needless to say, I didn’t tell Mrs. Gunther. She is very curious about what happened.”

Hands wrenching together in front of her, Sophia walked to the mantel. “I cannot believe this! The Duke of Guysborough of all people. I always took him for a gentleman.”

“So did I. I was stunned.”

“As you had every right to be! He behaved deplorably!”

“Yes.” Clara gazed around the room. “But I, too, behaved deplorably, and I must accept responsibility for the state of affairs. If I had not lost my head with the marquess, none of this would be happening.” She stood up and paced the room. “If you must bar your door to me, Sophia, I will understand. Perhaps I should leave now and go back to America before this spins out of control. I don’t want you and James to be sullied by it.”

“We will not bar our door to you.”

“James might wish it. He has every right to. He might want to protect Liam and John.”

“James will not wish it. You are a member of this family, and as far as he is concerned, you are under his protection.” Sophia crossed to the sofa and sat down. “Besides, this is as much my fault as it is yours. I should never have taken you to that Cakras Ball. Good Lord, I have been getting rid of Mrs. Gunther whenever possible. I’ve been a terrible chaperone.”

“No, Sophia. If you hadn’t taken me to that ball, I would have found some way to see the marquess again, and things could have been much worse. Or maybe I would have accepted the duke’s proposal, and paid for such
naďveté later.”

For a long time, neither of them said anything. The mantel clock ticked and ticked. Clara felt a heavy weight upon her shoulders—the uncomfortable, cumbersome weight of her emotions.

“Sometimes,” she said softly, gazing up at the flowers on the mantle, “when I think about the marquess, it feels as if I am possessed. I don’t know if it is love or something darker… something purely hedonistic. Most of the time, all I can think about is being alone with him again. I cannot suppress my desire to give myself to him in the physical sense. Completely.”

She turned her gaze to her sister, expecting to see shock and condemnation in her eyes.

Instead, she saw compassion. “I understand how you feel,” Sophia said. “I remember… with James.” Sophia stood up again and took both Clara’s hands in hers. “Do not distress yourself. You are a normal, healthy young woman with very human desires, and I agree with you on one point—that the marquess acted honorably, having spared your virtue when clearly you could have been easily persuaded. Compared to Guysborough, he is a gentleman through and through.”

Clara nodded.

“It appears,” Sophia continued, “that the marquess and the duke are very different from how they are perceived. Things are not always what they seem, are they?” She hugged Clara. “I’ve always believed there was more to a person than what they reveal on the surface. That’s why I despise the gossip mill.”

Clara sighed and stepped back from the embrace so she could look at her sister. “I’m afraid I might be dragged through the gossip mill very soon, if the duke doesn’t get what he wants—which is undoubtedly a mammoth settlement from Father.”

Pursing her lips, Sophia turned away from Clara. “It is nothing short of blackmail. I will not stand for it. James will not stand for it. We must tell him. He will know what to do.”

A wave of apprehension moved through Clara. It was colored with shame and remorse. She hated causing problems for the two people she respected most in the world, and she did not want her sister’s husband to think badly of her. “Please don’t tell him about my sneaking out the other night. Everything else, but not that.”

Gazing uncertainly at Clara, Sophia spoke softly. “Don’t worry, Clara, it will not change how he feels about you. James is a man of the world. Besides that, he
must
know, because we cannot allow him to take steps without knowing all the facts.”

Clara sat back down. “He won’t go to the marquess, will he? I would die if he did.”

“I will ask him not to. Either way, it will not be his first priority. The marquess will not be the one to face the core of his wrath today.”

* * *

In the end, Clara told James everything that had occurred between herself and the marquess over the past few weeks. She even confessed to the letters and the scandalous rendezvous in the carriage, though she spared him the more intimate details.

Standing by the window in his study, he gave her a responsible speech about the importance of propriety, then made her promise never to do anything like that again.

Clara agreed without hesitation.

James glanced out the window for a brief moment before turning his attention back to Clara, who sat in a small chair.

“You’re certain that the duke knows nothing about the meeting in the carriage?” he asked.

Clara nodded. “He would have used it against me if he knew. He only mentioned the Cakras Balls and the way the marquess and I were looking at each other at the assembly.”

James folded his arms. “The duke should have known better than to reveal his knowledge of a Cakras Ball and to use it to threaten
anyone’s
reputation. He’ll pay for that mistake, I assure you. You have nothing to worry about, Clara.”

She gazed up at her brother-in-law. “You’re sure?”

He smiled warmly. “I’m positive.”

“But what about Mrs. Gunther? She has no idea why I refused the duke and she is pressing me to explain.”

“I will speak to her and tell her that you simply did not favor the man.”

All her fears drained away in that instant, but were quickly replaced by another cause for concern. “You won’t intimidate the marquess, will you? As I told you before, he has been nothing but honorable toward me. Well, with the exception of certain things he said in the letters, and inviting me out in the middle of the night, but even then, he did not take advantage of me when he could have. Will you think of that, James?”
When you are face-to-face with him, as I’m sure you will be later today
.

Her brother-in-law stepped away from the window and came around the desk. “I will indeed endeavor to think of it. Now, do not trouble yourself with this disturbance another minute. Guysborough
will
back down, and you have my word that he will behave himself in the future. Go to the nursery now and try to smile, my dear. I believe Sophia is waiting for you to play
peek-a-boo with Liam.”

Clara rose from her chair and allowed James to escort her out of his study.

Sickening dread poured through her, however, when she stood at the top of the stairs a few minutes later, watching her brother-in-law slip into his long, black greatcoat and place his top hat on his head, and inform the butler that he was going to take care of a thing or two.

Chapter 11

Seated at the desk in his study, Seger glanced up from the newspaper when his butler entered and informed him that the Duke of Wentworth wished to see him.

Seger laid his newspaper aside and inhaled deeply. “Send him in, Cartwright.”

As soon as the butler closed the door behind him, Seger stood. “Bloody hell.” He went to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “Here we go.”

A moment later, the duke entered the room. Hands at his sides, he said simply, “Rawdon.”

Seger poured another glass of brandy and approached the duke with it. He held it out. “I suppose we’ll each need one of these.”

The duke removed his gloves and accepted the snifter. “Thank you.”

Seger noticed the duke’s right knuckle was bloodied. “Were you practicing on a tree outside in the garden?”

Wentworth glanced absently at his hand, then took a deep swig of the amber liquid. “It wasn’t practice.”

For a long moment, the two men regarded each other, then Seger gestured toward the chairs in front of the fireplace. “Care to sit?”

“I would indeed.” The duke sat down and waited for Seger to sit before he spoke. “We shall dispense with small talk, then?”

“By all means.”

Wentworth nodded. “You’re no fool, Rawdon. I’m sure you know the motive behind my call.”

Seger swirled the brandy around in his glass and took a sip. “I can hazard a guess. You want me to stay away from your sister-in-law.”

Wentworth’s gaze narrowed with shrewd scrutiny, as if he were trying to figure out what to make of Seger. “To be frank with you, I’m not certain. I’d like clarification from you first.”

“Ah. Concerning what, in particular?”

The duke took another sip. “I shall come right to the point. Clara informs me that she is still in possession of her virtue. Is that true? And I will have the truth, Rawdon.”

Seger considered the material facts. Images of every exquisite sexual act he’d performed with Clara in the carriage flashed like fireworks in his mind. He remembered sliding his hand into her drawers, taking them off and tossing them to the floor. He remembered what she’d tasted like and sounded like when she’d climaxed. Then he recalled Clara on his lap, bringing him to an acutely satisfying orgasm.

If anyone had peered in at them, it would have looked like they were having intercourse. They weren’t, but it was damn close.

He had certainly taken a good deal of her innocence the night before, but for all practical purposes, he’d left her with the most important part of it—her maidenhead. He’d ensured she would still have choices.

“It’s true,” he replied, then downed the rest of his brandy in one gulp. “She is still in possession of her virtue.”

“Despite your appointment with her last night?”

“Despite that, yes. You have my word that I did not harm her. Most of the time, we talked.” That, too, was the truth.

The duke continued to glare at him.

“Do you believe me?”

Wentworth dipped his head. “Yes, unless some evidence in the future points to the contrary, in which case you would deeply regret our conversation today.”

Seger understood. The duke would not be lied to.

“So I take it,” Seger said, “that you are not here to muscle a marriage proposal out of me?”

“Not today.”

“But you do want me to stay away from her.”

Because that’s what male relations of Seger’s paramours
always
wanted.

For a long time the duke stared at Seger, appearing as if he were considering the question. “Clara is my wife’s sister. She’s a kindhearted, intelligent girl and her happiness is my primary concern. From what I can tell, she has an affection for you, and I will not be the one to tell her that her affections are misguided. I don’t as yet know one way or another if they are. I will, however, watch carefully over the coming weeks to ensure that she is not treated in a cavalier manner. You will see her only in respectable situations, and you will not continue to encourage her if there is no future in it. If you do, there will be consequences. Do you understand my meaning?”

“Perfectly.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“I must also inform you,” the duke said slowly, “that you are very close to the center of another scandal, a scandal I attempted to avert just over an hour ago.”

Seger glanced down at the duke’s bloody hand again, and felt the muscles of his forearm tighten as he clenched his own hand into a fist. “What kind of scandal? It doesn’t involve Clara, does it? Is she all right?”

The duke slowly blinked. “She is fine, and your concern for her does you credit. Yes, it involves her. The two of you were seen together at two separate Cakras Balls, and a certain gentleman who covets Clara’s marriage settlement has threatened to reveal that fact. Under other circumstances I would have words for you in that regard, but from what I understand, Clara’s attendance at the ball was accidental, at least the first time, and you steered her away and suggested she leave. You did the same the second time, when it was
not
accidental.”

Was he receiving a commendation? Seger wondered, staring at the duke’s dark blue eyes. Why was he telling him all this?

“You attempted to avert the scandal,” Seger said. “You were not successful?”

“I made an impression, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to make an impression as well. I believe we should present a united front.”

Seger tried to keep his anger in check. “Who, may I ask, is the gentleman in question?”

“Guysborough.”

“The duke? The bloody hypocrite. He, of all people, should know the rules of the Cakras Society. He tried something like this once before, didn’t he?”

“Yes, two years ago he was suspended for speaking about a particular lady who had rejected his attentions at one of the balls, but I think in this case, Clara’s value financially was worth the risk of being suspended again.”

“The Society won’t take kindly to a second misdemeanor. A suspension would be the least of his punishments.”

“I reminded him of that. Perhaps you should, too. Tell him we spoke.”

“Will that do the trick?”

“Who’s to say for sure? All I know is that I don’t trust him.” Wentworth set his empty glass on the small table next to his chair, and stood. “Thank you for the brandy, Rawdon.”

Seger stood too. “I’ll show you out.”

They went to the front door where the butler was waiting with the duke’s coat and hat.

Wentworth was halfway down the steps on his way to the waiting coach, when Seger called out to him. “Wentworth!”

The duke stopped and turned.

“I appreciated the invitation you sent, for my family to attend your assembly.”

A bluebird flew overhead, then swooped down and perched on the stone wall by the gate.

“It was my pleasure, Rawdon,” Wentworth replied. He settled his hat on his head and continued toward his coach.

Seger stood there for a moment or two. The meeting had not gone the way he had expected it to.

Finally, he closed the door and returned to his study. All he could think about was Clara and the idea that a scandal had brushed by her, no thanks to him. God! He hated the idea that he had brought her even the smallest measure of grief or anxiety. She had trusted him with her reputation and he had let her down.

Seger sank back into the chair he had occupied a few minutes ago and stroked his chin. He gazed at the empty grate in the fireplace and let his mind wander where it would. He recalled the taste of Clara’s open mouth when he’d kissed her the night before.

Remembering her irresistible erotic whimpers when he’d been busy with his tongue in certain places beneath her skirts, he had to fight to suppress the inconvenient surge of arousal that accompanied the heated memories. And the guilt for what she had suffered today.

With firm resolve, he decided that he would take care of the scandal. He would see Guysborough, and ascertain what exactly had happened, then he would ensure the man behaved himself in the future and never so much as looked at Clara again. Then Seger would call on Clara to assure her that all was well.

Oh, who was he trying to fool?

He didn’t want to see her to ease her mind about any scandal. He wanted to see her for the simple reason that he wanted to be in the same room with her. Touch her if possible.

With some apprehension, he rose from his chair and summoned his butler to tell him that he intended to go out, that he had a certain personal matter to attend to.

Just when Clara thought the day could not possibly have been more distressing, a footman entered the nursery. Clara was holding John, singing a
lullaby.

The tall footman announced that Clara had a visitor. “It is the Marquess of Rawdon, Miss Wilson.”

Clara shot a glance at Sophia, who froze.

“Tell him I’ll be right down,” Clara replied, and the footman took his leave.

“What’s he doing here?” Sophia asked, picking Liam up off the floor and laying him down in his crib. “James hasn’t even returned yet. We haven’t had a chance to find out what happened.”

“You don’t think James coerced Lord Rawdon to propose, do you? Because I will not agree to a forced wedding.”

“I don’t know.” Sophia took John out of Clara’s arms. “Just go, Clara. Don’t keep him waiting. Offer him tea. I’ll give you a few minutes before I follow.”

“Thank you. You are the best sister.”

Clara inhaled deeply and tried to smooth out her hair on the way to the drawing room. Nervous twitters gathered in her belly at the mere thought of seeing Seger’s face again.

She stopped and paused outside the drawing room doors, fighting the butterflies, then tried to look at ease as she entered.

The marquess stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back as he looked out. The sunlight shone in on his face, illuminating the square cut of his jaw, his full lips and straight nose. All Clara’s senses careened. Such power he could wield over her, merely by standing there, doing nothing.

Then he faced her. They stared at each other for a moment. Excitement swirled up and down Clara’s spine.