James narrowed his gaze at her. “You would have Clara marry a man who threatened to publicly destroy her?”
“No one would ever have to know about that.”
“But I would know!” Clara practically shouted. “I wish to be happy, Mrs. Gunther, and I would not be happy with the Duke of Guysborough.”
The older woman’s cheeks flushed with smug condescension. “Why not? Because he is not as handsome as the marquess? Mark my words, Clara, a handsome face will not keep you happy when your husband is cavorting with other women right under your nose.”
Clara bristled.
James held up a hand again to hush everyone. He turned toward Mrs. Gunther. “I believe, madam, that your duty to my sister-in-law has been fulfilled.”
Though she spoke to James, Mrs. Gunther turned her admonishing gaze toward Clara. “She is making a grave mistake, Your Grace.”
“I do thank you for your attendance to her,” he added, “but perhaps it is time you returned to America.”
Mrs. Gunther rose from her chair and smoothed her hands over her skirt. “If you will excuse me, I am suddenly in need of a rest. I will be in my boudoir.” She walked out with her nose pushed high in the air.
Clara sat in silence staring after her chaperone and felt a great weight lift from her shoulders.
After Seger broke the news of his engagement to his stepmother, he retired to his study and realized that the expression on her face had been the same as it had been eight years ago when he’d told her he intended to marry a merchant’s penniless daughter.
Only Clara wasn’t penniless. She was, however, American and not “one of them.”
After Quintina realized that she would not be able to change Seger’s mind, she made a point of mentioning that at least with an American bride, their vulgar in-laws would remain on the other side of the Atlantic and would not be dropping by for tea.
Seger sat down at his desk and realized with some chagrin that he was experiencing a slightly perverse pleasure from her exasperation.
A knock sounded at his door just then. “Come in.”
Quintina entered. She strode all the way in and stopped before him with her hands clasped in front of her as if she were nervous.
“Yes, Quintina, what is it?”
She hesitated a moment. “I believe, Seger, that I...I would like to invite your fiancée as well as the Duke and Duchess of Wentworth to dine with us one evening next week.”
Seger leaned back in his chair and stared. “Pardon me?”
“You heard me the first time. You’re just making me repeat it to punish me further.”
“None of this is intended to punish you,” he replied. “I want to marry Clara Wilson because she delights me. It’s as simple as that.”
She nodded quickly, almost as if she needed to hush him, as if she did not wish to hear any more explanations of that nature. “Either way, if we are going to be related, we must come to know these people.”
He supposed it didn’t hurt that Clara’s sister was a duchess. American or not, a duchess was a duchess. That was likely what was behind this.
Well, he’d take it. “Magnificent. Send the invitation first thing in the morning.”
“Very well.” She turned to leave but stopped at the door. “And Seger. Congratulations.”
He gazed with surprise at his stepmother, feeling uneasy at her remark, for he knew it was taking every bit of willpower she possessed just to speak the words.
“Thank you,” he replied, then returned to his correspondence.
Quintina walked out of her stepson’s study and closed the door behind her. She met Gillian in the hall and stopped abruptly. The girl’s eyes were red and puffy. She was clutching a handkerchief.
Quintina felt her heart throb painfully in her chest.
“Well?” Gillian asked in a shaky voice.
