A Passion for Pleasure(109)

Andrew started to shake, all color draining from his face. He tried to yank his arm from Fairfax’s grip, but Fairfax took a step back and pulled Andrew with him.

“Andrew, you know nothing of the kind,” Fairfax said.

“I…I do,” Andrew gasped, throwing his grandfather a terrified but determined look. “It…it wasn’t M-Mama.”

Tears sprang to Clara’s eyes at the sound of her son’s voice, music that had been silenced for the past year. A cascade of relief burst through her fear. She took another step forward. Andrew suddenly wrenched his arm from his grandfather’s grip and flung himself at Sebastian, the impact powerful enough to send Sebastian stumbling back. A collective gasp rose from the crowd of people who had gathered nearby.

“It was him!” Andrew pointed a trembling finger at Fairfax the instant before Sebastian’s arm closed around his shoulders. “He k-killed my father. I saw him d-do it.”

Clara froze, swamped with horror. She stared at her father, saw the truth of the accusation in the guilt that flared across his features before a shutter descended. His eyes hardened to ice as his gaze broke from hers. He darted forward to grab Andrew.

Sebastian stepped back, his hand curling around Andrew’s arm. His grip faltered. He cursed. Fairfax hauled Andrew up and turned to flee. He staggered a few steps then, realizing the hindrance of the boy’s weight, he dropped Andrew and ran.

“Andrew!” Clara hurried to her son and fell to her knees beside him, relief billowing through her as she gathered him into her arms. “Are you all right?”

He nodded, his slender body shaking with fear and exertion as he sagged against her. Sebastian passed them in a blur of speed. His boots slammed against the cobblestones as he gave chase.

Fairfax’s dark-clad figure was halfway down the street when Sebastian caught up to him, both of them crashing to the ground with one lunge. A scuffle ensued as the two men fought, but Fairfax was no match for Sebastian’s height and strength. Within seconds, Sebastian had subdued the older man and dragged him to his feet.

Still clutching Andrew, Clara turned to search for Rushton. For a moment, she couldn’t find him in the growing crowd, but then he pushed past a group of people. Two police constables followed, their batons at the ready as they approached Sebastian and Fairfax.

Voices rose from the crowd in excited chatter. Clara tightened her arms around Andrew and led him to the safety of a doorstep. She pressed her cheek against his hair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “So sorry it happened this way.”

One day soon she would ask him exactly what he saw happen between Fairfax and Richard, but that day could wait. Right now all she wanted was to hold her son again and get reacquainted with the boy he had become—this time, without the portent of fear hanging over them like a thundercloud.

They waited together, huddled close, as the crowd began to disperse and Sebastian returned to find them. He scraped a hand through his messy hair and crouched in front of them, balancing on the balls of his feet.

“You did the right thing, Andrew,” he said. “No harm will come to you for having told the truth. Had you feared that it would?”

Andrew nodded. Sebastian lifted the boy into his arms, then extended a hand to Clara and helped her up. He pulled her to his other side, holding them close. A tremble shuddered through Clara as she embraced both her husband and her son. She and Andrew would always be safe at Sebastian’s side.

Slowly, she turned to find Lord Rushton.

“Fairfax is in police custody.” His face reddened from exertion and lined with concern, the earl stopped beside them. “Rest assured, Mrs. Hall, I will do everything within my power to ensure that justice is served.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Clara didn’t doubt his promise. Rushton was determined that nothing would shake the foundations of the earldom again, but he was not so uncompromising that he would allow a murder to go unpunished.

Her heart clenched. Murder. Richard had been murdered by the very man to whom he had entrusted his son.

As if sensing her thoughts, Sebastian lowered his head to whisper into her ear. “He will never harm you or Andrew again.”

She tightened her hold on him. “I believe you.”



Several days after returning to London, Andrew explained in slow, halting speech what he had seen that fateful day when his father died. They sat in the parlor of Blake’s Museum of Automata—only Clara and Sebastian, as Andrew had said he wanted no one else present. He huddled in a chair before the fire, his hands cupped around a bowl of hot cocoa. Soon he would have to recount the events to the police superintendent, but everyone had agreed to give the boy a chance to recover.