He was quiet for a few seconds. “Come, we’re missing the dance.” He gathered her into his arms again and moved across the floor.
“I still don’t understand,” she said, knowing she should let it go. She was pushing him to talk when he didn’t seem in the mood. This—after she’d just told herself to let go of her insecurities. “It’s just not the way these transatlantic marriages are usually done,” she said with resignation.
Seger spun her around. “You underestimate your charms, darling. And don’t worry, your father didn’t get off entirely scot-free, and you won’t have to decrease your spending. He insisted on providing you with a monthly allowance for his own peace of mind, and I agreed. You will, like your sister, have your own bank account and your own money, so you will have the freedom to spend what you like without having to ask your husband for a handout.”
Clara absorbed his meaning and gazed up at him with consternation. “No, no, that’s not why I’m asking you about the settlement. I don’t want you to think that I’m worried about my financial situation. Truly, I don’t care about the money. It’s you I want.”
He raised a flirtatious eyebrow at her and smiled. “I’m glad. And at least we agree on one thing—that the wedding night can’t come soon enough.”
His seductive gaze traveled over her face and caused an intense flare of heat inside her. It was the first time he had flirted with her all evening and she was surprised by how relieved she was to bob back to the surface—back to the superficiality. She was relieved that he was behaving more like his old self, the charmer that enjoyed flirting with her.
The following week passed quickly for Seger, with decisions to make about the honeymoon and ten-dozen details about the ceremony to work out. He was glad. Glad to be busy, glad to be one day closer to the finale. He would be even happier when it was over, when all this commotion would settle down.
He woke on his wedding day, however, to the unfortunate sound of thunder booming just over the house. Rain beat noisily against his window and poured down the panes, almost as if someone were standing on the roof, dumping buckets of water.
He tossed the covers aside and sat up on the edge of the bed. Sleepily, he walked to the window. The fog was so thick, he could not even see the street. Lightning flashed, then thunder boomed again.
A fine day for a wedding.
He washed and ate breakfast in silence in his room. Calmly, he read the newspaper. An hour later, he decided it was time to dress. He was about to summon his valet when a knock sounded at his door and a footman entered carrying a silver salver with a letter upon it. A telegram, Seger discovered as he picked it up.
It was from an anonymous person in New York.
YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE SETTLEMENT STOP YOUR BRIDE IS A LIAR STOP YOU’RE NOT THE FIRST STOP ASK HER ABOUT THE EMBEZZLEMENT STOP
He read it again. “What the bloody hell?”
Seger turned it over, looking for a clue about who would send such a thing, but there was nothing to reveal who had written it.
Perhaps it was a scandalmonger who had read about their marriage in the newspapers and wished to create havoc.
He flipped it over again.You’re not the first.
Of course he was the first. He knew he was. He had made love to Clara a week ago and she had been a virgin. There was no doubt about that.
But then, what the hell was the person referring to, and what embezzlement?
Seger rose from his chair and walked to the window. Looking out at the storm, he made a fist and tapped it a few times against the dark oak frame. They were to be married that day. In three hours to be exact.
He felt an urgent need to know the facts behind this note before he said “I do.”
A half hour later, he was stepping out of his coach in front of Wentworth House and dashing through the cold, hard rain to the door. He noticed the look of concern on the butler’s face when he informed him that he wished to speak to Miss Wilson but paid it no heed. He followed the butler upstairs to the drawing room, where he had to wait a significant number of minutes before Clara appeared.
Finally, she walked in wearing a simple green morning dress. Her hair was elegantly adorned with pearls and white flowers and combs that sparkled.
He saw the apprehensive expression on her face, watched her wring her hands together in front of her, and regretted coming there unexpectedly and in a panic. He was surely causing her great distress. She probably feared he was about to call everything off.
“You look lovely,” he said, crossing the room to take her hands in his, kissing them and hopefully easing her mind.
She spoke with uncertainty. “Thank you. Why are you here?”
He tried to convey warmth with his voice and expression, for he did not wish to cause her any further anxiety. Surely a woman’s wedding day was filled with enough anxiety as it was, without the groom barging into the bride’s house two hours before the ceremony to ask accusing questions. He would try not to let it sound that way, at least until he knew the particulars.
“I received a telegram this morning from someone in America, but it was anonymous. I wanted to ask you about it. The sender mentioned an embezzlement. He suggested you were not being entirely honest with me.”
Clara felt her heart gothumpinside her chest. All she could do was stare bewildered at her fiancé and wonder how and why this telegram had come to him today at the worst possible time.
She had told Seger about Gordon proposing to her, but she had not told him everything. She had not explained all the details and complexities. Now she wished she had.
