Had he trimmed it because of this single assembly? Had he gone out and changed himself just for her? Or would he have done it for any other invitation?
Either way, the sight of it made her feel joyful inside. He had come out of hiding.
Clara watched him greet Sophia. “Duchess, it is an honor.”
“The honor is mine,” Sophia replied, turning casually toward Clara. “May I present my sister, Clara Wilson of New York. This is Clara’s first Season in London, Lord Rawdon.”
He moved to stand before her. He was so tall, grand and sophisticated that she almost forgot to breathe. “At last,” he said, bowing his head to her.
A shiver of desire tingled across her flesh. “Welcome to Wentworth House, my lord.”
Locked in his smoldering gaze, Clara melted at the grandeur of his face—the masculine line of his jaw, the discerning intelligence in his eyes. Neither of them spoke, until the moment was broken by Sophia, who cleared her throat. Clara felt wrenched out of a trance.
The marquess smiled again, more broadly this time, as if he recognized that she was enamored. Not that he hadn’t seemed enamored himself, but perhaps that was just his way. Perhaps he was enamored with all women.
The divorce scandal of three years ago flitted across her mind. She reminded herself to be wary.
The marquess’s gaze swept across the crowded drawing room, but before he ventured inside, he faced her one more time. “I would enjoy hearing about America this evening, Miss Wilson, if you would be inclined to describe your home to me.”
“I will seek you out,” she replied.
“I look forward to it.”
He entered the room, and Clara faced the door again to greet two more guests, while struggling to wipe the silly grin off her face and quiet her trembling heart.
There were very few people whom he could talk to, Seger realized as he moved about the room and felt more than a few disapproving gazes follow him to the buffet table. He had not attended a proper assembly in three years, and consequently did not move in these circles. His acquaintances were of a different breed now—not so strict and straight-laced, less judgmental of others—and his entertainments were less correct, by Society’s standards. Apparently, most of these people knew that.
Did they think he wanted to be accepted again? He hoped not, for he had never wished to reconcile with them. They had forsaken him, as was their prerogative, and he had accepted that. He was here for quite another reason this evening. To satisfy a lusty curiosity. Quench it if he could, for he was not interested in marriage for profit.
Yet he could not deny that he was interested insomething.
He noticed his stepmother and Gillian in the far corner but was not inclined to join them. Instead, he reached for a glass of champagne as a footman passed by and downed it in a single gulp.
Setting the empty glass down on a table, he slowly made his way around the perimeter of the room, feeling very much like an outsider. The only pleasant distraction was Miss Wilson still at the door, teeming with charm as she greeted the last few guests. She had smelled like strawberries again.
Her sister, the duchess, was also charming. She had welcomed him without a hint of contempt.
The duke had been cordial as well. Seger wondered if His Grace knew about his wife and sister-in-law attending a Cakras Ball. From what Seger knew about the duke, he was not the sort of man one kept secrets from, nor was he the sort who would remain in the dark for long about any and all events involving members of his household. Regardless, if His Grace had known about his wife’s little adventure, he certainly hadn’t revealed it. Still, he was a man Seger should not underestimate.
Seger did manage to meet a few gentlemen he knew from his current social circle, gentlemen who had the rare ability through certain connections to cross over from one sphere to the other. They were surprised to see him at the duke’s assembly and made no secret of it as they waved him into their conversation.
There, he was introduced to a few respectable ladies and gentlemen, and the first crack in the barrier of his expulsion became visible to both himself and others in the room. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He had not come there to chisel his way back in.
A short time later, he was still intensely aware of Miss Wilson’s presence on the opposite side of the room, her gaze locked on his from yards away, her eyes smiling with mischievous anticipation. He turned away from a group of laughing gentlemen to walk toward her.
They met in the center of the room but did not settle there. Seger led her toward the wall.
“You wanted to hear about America,” she said cheerfully.
“That, and whatever else you wish to tell me about. I’ll listen to bible recitations if that would please you.”
Her whole face beamed. She gazed over her shoulder at the other guests and spoke softly. “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”
“I wasn’t sure myself, but I’m glad I did. May I mention that the wig you wore the other night does not do you justice?”
She sighed. “Still full of flattery, I see. I thought you might be more reserved in a more...normalsituation.”
“You call this normal?” He glanced around. “I’d forgotten how completelyabnormalthese things could be. No offense to the hosts intended.”
