A Passion for Pleasure(106)

Men capable of teaching Rushton a thing or two about how to conduct oneself in the world.

Andrew Winter might become the same type of man, given the opportunity to attend school, play sports, travel, work, marry. But such a future appeared in doubt, if his grandfather carried through with his plan.

Rushton tore his gaze from Andrew and looked out the opposite window. None of this was his concern, at any rate. Fairfax was the boy’s guardian. And Rushton’s sole concern was to prevent anything from further damaging his family’s reputation.

By helping Fairfax reclaim his grandson, Rushton had fortified the walls around the earldom. That was all that mattered.

At the Paddington station, they procured two cabs to take them back to their respective residences. Rushton nodded a farewell to Fairfax and turned to ensure his luggage was loaded into his cab.

There was a quick, sharp tug at his sleeve. He glanced down. Andrew stood at his side, his shoulders hunched furtively.

“She didn’t do it,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with disuse. “Didn’t.”

Before Rushton could question the boy, Andrew darted back to his grandfather. Fairfax was speaking to the cabdriver and appeared not to notice Andrew’s short absence.

Andrew climbed into the cab and looked at Rushton through the window. He shook his head.

Disquiet tumbled through Rushton’s chest. Was Andrew speaking of his abduction? Or Clara’s involvement in Richard Winter’s death? Although Rushton didn’t believe her capable of murdering her husband, he hadn’t discounted the potential of her accidental involvement. Fairfax would hold to his accusation that Clara was responsible for Richard’s death.

But how did Andrew know she was not?



The familiar smells of paint and grease permeated the museum. In the front exhibition room, Clara pivoted on her heel and paced to the window. Her mind ferreted through all the tangles of the newest plan they had concocted since arriving back in London yesterday.

She could no longer afford to carry the weight of hopelessness and anguish. For the past year, such emotions had pulsed alongside her blood, fueling her desperation, but ultimately they were useless. She would never see Andrew again if she allowed despair to rule her heart.

And now, she was no longer alone. Even when faced anew with the loss of her son, even though darkness still fought to pull her downward, she reached for the light shining like gold coins on the surface. She and Sebastian had reclaimed Andrew once, and they would do so again.

She glanced to where Sebastian sat by the hearth, his brow creased as he studied the latest missives from his brother’s solicitor.

“He didn’t sign the deed of conveyance.” Sebastian pushed to his feet and began to pace, latching a hand behind his neck. “That’s to our benefit, at the least.”

Darius unfolded himself from a chair and approached to examine the papers. “Though there appears to be no possibility of Fairfax’s willingness to settle.”

“No.” Sebastian shook his head. “We will not approach him again. I will write to Alexander explaining the situation and send the letter in Monday’s post.”

“I’ve the information about the institution here.” Granville riffled through a stack of papers. “As well as all the papers pertaining to Wakefield House.”

Relief eased some of the tension from Clara’s shoulders. Wakefield House remained in Sebastian’s hands, still useful as a point of negotiation should the situation arise, doubtful though that might be.

She met her husband’s warm gaze, her heart fluttering again at the reminder that not once had he wavered in his determination to remain by her side.

The sound of the doorbell rang faintly in her ear. She went to the foyer to answer it, as both Mrs. Fox and Mrs. Marshall had left for the day. Clara pulled open the door, her breath stopping in her throat as she stared at the Earl of Rushton.

“Mrs. Hall.” He gave her a stiff nod, his features set like stone. “Sebastian’s footman said he was here.”

“Yes.” Confused and wary, Clara stepped back to allow him entrance. After he’d divested himself of his greatcoat and hat, she gestured to the drawing room. “Everyone is inside.”

Rushton’s shoulders tightened, but he nodded. Praying he would not throw yet another obstacle into their path, Clara preceded him and closed the door after he’d entered.

Silence crashed over the room. Darius and Sebastian exchanged glances, their stances guarded. Apprehension flickered across Granville’s face.