But when had she ever been able to compete with anyone where Seger was concerned? Gillian had been fooling herself to think that Seger could ever fall in love with her. She had no idea how to charm a man. How to be coquettish. Everything Gillian had told Clara about her father wanting her to marry Seger had been a lie. He would never even have considered such a thing. He’d always called Gillian an embarrassment.
Gillian should not have let Quintina manipulate her. She should have given up on those dreams the day of the wedding. Quintina had been wrong to suggest that things could change. She had given Gillian false hopes.
Quintina entered the room, saw her niece sobbing by the window, and immediately embraced her. “There, there darling. Go ahead and cry, get it all out. That’s better. All will work out, you’ll see.”
But Gillian did not see. She pushed her aunt away and wiped the tears from her eyes. “No! I have tried and tried, but she will not be broken! I can’t do it anymore. She is not behaving the way you said she would. You said she would be driven to tears, but I am the one who is crying.”
“Get a hold of yourself, dear. The war is not over.”
“This is not a war, Auntie. It is a marriage, and I am an outsider. I do not belong here. I should go home to my uncle’s house and forget about Seger. I should prepare for a Season of my own next year and find someone else.”
Quintina moved forward again and took hold of Gillian by the shoulders. “You are upset because they just left, but they will be back, and we still have one more scheme to execute. Do not give up now. I want Susan, God rest her soul, to know that I made your dreams come true, and to be frank with you, dear, I cannot bear to think that my future grandchildren will be half American. Wait until we at least exhaust all possibilities.”
“I’m beginning to think this is more for you than me!” Gillian replied. “You hate the fact that your parents lost their home to an American, and you can’t bear for it to happen again. But Clara is mistress of this house now, Auntie, and there is not one single thing we can do about it.”
“But there is!” Quintina replied desperately.
“No. I can’t do this anymore. It’s humiliating! I hate being in this house when he goes to her bed every night!”
“Gillian, calm yourself. Sit down and listen to me. Something significant is about to happen. I have been communicating with that man I told you about—the one from America. He has incriminating information about Clara and his very presence will knock her clear off her glowing pedestal. I have asked him to come to London, and I assure you, it’s going to be sordid. He is on his way here as we speak.”
Gillian sat down and tried to stop crying as she listened in foggy comprehension to what her aunt told her would happen next.
Chapter 19
Dear Adele,
I love Seger and I want to make him happy, but there are still so many barriers between us. While I believe I have overcome the problem with Gillian, I am still not at ease. I must continue to live with the knowledge that what happened to the woman he loved eight years ago has left a deep hole in his heart. She is the sole reason that his heart has been so inaccessible, and while I knew that from the beginning, I believed my love would fill that hole. I have just learned, however, that he has not returned to his home in the country since she died. We are traveling there today, and I do not know what to expect....
Clara
As the carriage approached RawdonHall and drove around the circular fountain in front of the house, Seger realized with unease that an emotional awakening did not come without some discomfort, for he could not seem to escape thoughts of Daphne.
He had always been able to avoid reminiscing—he had spent eight years teaching himself how to bury his feelings—but at present, he could not push her from his mind. She was so much a part of his youth and his memories of this house, which was why he had never returned. Until now.
He gazed out the carriage window at the south garden. All at once, a host of vivid images came hurling, spinning back at him. He recalled the excitement and anticipation of running through that garden, sneaking away in the evenings before dinner, to meet her secretly down at the lake. He remembered how his feet would carry him across the lawns and through the woods, how his heart would race at the thought of seeing her. For four years she had been his best friend, his confidante. She was—and would always be—his first love.
A knot of tension formed in his gut as the carriage rolled to a stop. He remembered the last time he had been there, when he’d driven away devastated and shattered—emotionally bruised and beaten down into a state of complete and utter grief over Daphne’s death. He had not looked back. He couldn’t. He’d been so full of rage toward his father for sending Daphne away. For being the cause of her death.
Why had she gotten on that ship? he had wondered so desperately afterward. Why hadn’t she come to him? If she had, they could have run away together.
The question had haunted him for years. He had wondered what he’d done wrong. In the end, he finally accepted that she’d chosen to leave, thinking it was for his own good. She’d always worried about his parents’ disapproval. She had not wanted to be the reason his father would disinherit him, as he had threatened to do.
The carriage stopped in front of the house, and Clara squeezed Seger’s hand. He smiled at her, pleased at least that she was here to distract him from those memories and remind him that life was not the same as it was. Now he was married to an extraordinary woman he desired beyond any imagining. He had come around full circle. He was home, and he was about to start a new life.
He helped Clara out of the carriage and escorted her into the front hall where the servants were standing in two straight lines, eager to greet the new marchioness. Seger recognized almost no one. He supposed many of the former servants must have moved on and been replaced over the years. Even the butler was strange to him.
A short while later they were shown to their rooms, and Clara seemed genuinely pleased with her boudoir and the house in general.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “I’ll be very happy here, Seger. We will live here, won’t we? You won’t continue to manage things from London?”
Seger kissed her hand. “If you wish to live here, then we will make it our home.”
He was surprised to hear himself speak those words so quickly, without really thinking it through. He had expected more of a resistance from his deeper self—from the place where the memories lived.
But he supposed he had faced those memories just now and had not suffered so much after all. Yes, he had remembered things—things he had not permitted himself to revisit before now, because they were too painful. But they were only memories. Scattered and dim. Small, individual fragments of the four years he had spent with Daphne. Sad memories of a difficult and turbulent time, yes, but there were pleasant memories, too, and for the first time since he couldn’t remember when, he had faced them. He had remembered how he had felt when he was sixteen.
Perhaps he could let himself remember other things as well. Face all of it at last and put it behind him.
