Stopping on the pavement, Seger faced his stepmother squarely. “I would like to know this woman’s name, if you please. This is a matter that must be addressed posthaste. I will not have anyone spreading lies about my wife—lies that concern something that is dead and buried in the past.”
Quintina sighed. “But Seger…I’m not entirely sure that itisdead and buried, which is why I felt it necessary to speak to you immediately. You see, my friend wrote to me about this issue quite some time ago, but I chose not to mention it, because I like Clara very much, and I want your marriage to be a success. But I could not keep it to myself any longer, not after what happened today. Can we stroll again?”
Seger nodded and offered his arm. They walked in silence for a few seconds before Quintina finally spoke. “First of all, I’m not sure that Clara was entirely innocent. My friend informed me that her signature was on certain documents, but that is not what concerns me now. As you said, it’s in the past. What concerns me is Clara’s association with the man who lured her into this embezzlement in the first place. She was engaged to him, I understand.”
“Yes, but Clara severed her relationship with him when she learned about the embezzlement, and he went to prison.”
“But he is out now. Here in London, in fact.”
Seger stopped again. “In London, you say?”
“Yes, but it’s much worse than that. He came to the house looking for Clara, and she went off with him in the coach. Alone. I don’t think she realized that I knew who he was. She said he was an old family friend.”
Seger glared at his stepmother, then uttered an oath and turned to summon his carriage.
Seger walked into the house, where he found Clara sitting alone in the drawing room, gazing absentmindedly out the window.
At least she was there, and not somewhere else.
He approached and stood over her where she sat on the sofa. Eyes wide, she gazed up at him.
“What happened today?” he asked directly.
She stared dumbfounded for a moment, then went pale. “Seger....” Her voice betrayed her trepidation. “You know?”
“Yes. But I wish to hear your description of the events.”
She continued to gaze up at him with dismay, then rose to her feet, wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.
“I tried to find you when I came home, but you had gone out.” Her voice began to quiver. “Oh, Seger, Gordon has come to London.”
He would have liked to see her eyes when she spoke, but her cheek was still pressed to his chest. “I am aware. What happened, Clara?”
“He caught me off guard. I was on my way home from Piccadilly, when he opened the door of the coach and got in. There was no warning. He must have been following me.”
“He got into the coach with you?”
“Yes. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t.”
Seger reached around to pry her arms off him. He stared at her, trying to see the truth.
Just then, Quintina entered.
Seger held up a hand. “Give my wife a chance to explain.” He turned his attention back to Clara. “He did not come to the house? You didn’t go with him willingly?”
She shook her head.
Quintina stepped forward. “What do you mean, Clara? Of course he was here. Mrs. Carruthers told me who he was, and I watched you leave with him. I watched you from my window upstairs.”
A heavy silence descended upon them while Clara and Quintina stared at each other, as if they were each trying to comprehend what the other was saying.
“I didn’t leave with him,” Clara finally professed. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but I did not see Gordon in this house.”
Quintina shook her head in disbelief. “You think both the housekeeper and I imagined it?”
“Yes!”
Quintina turned to Seger and gestured toward Clara with a hand. “Perhaps she wishes to spare your feelings, Seger.”
