A Passion for Pleasure(26)
Sebastian took the note. Suspicion flared beneath his heart, adding fuel to the fire that had burned since he’d received Darius’s initial letter. Never had he been given cause to suspect one of his brothers of malice, but Darius’s evasiveness left too many unanswered questions.
Then again, Sebastian hadn’t been truthful of late either.
He sighed. Since their parents’ divorce, secrets had begun to spear through his relationships with his brothers, cracking walls that had once seemed indestructible.
He turned away from Darius, trying to smother his suspicions. He’d never have even felt suspicious of his own brother had it not been for their mother’s betrayal. She’d been the one to incite doubts in all of them, for if the Countess of Rushton, the very epitome of the haut ton, could conceal such a reprehensible secret, were not the rest of the Halls capable of hiding secrets?
None of them had talked much about the former countess. Though Sebastian knew that Alexander and Talia had renounced all mention of their mother, he’d had little opportunity to learn Darius’s thoughts on the matter.
Then again, discerning Darius’s thoughts was like attempting to read and understand the Rosetta stone.
Sebastian shook his head as a humorless laugh stuck in his throat. God in heaven. The rest of the world was done with it. His brothers and sister were done with it. What would it take for Sebastian to bury the past?
Chapter Five
Clara stared at herself in the mirror. The bodice of her merino gown enclosed her curves in a close embrace, then cascaded over a wide crinoline. Mrs. Marshall had proven her skill with a comb by arranging Clara’s hair in a smooth chignon softened by tendrils that curled over her bare neck. Jet earrings matched the brooch pinned to her collar.
She looked well, but her expression betrayed her nerves—her eyes dark, her jaw tight with tension, her skin pale as milk.
She smoothed her skirts and turned to go downstairs. The sound of the doorbell rang faintly in her good ear. Her stomach jumped. She stopped in the corridor, out of sight, as Mrs. Marshall opened the door to admit their visitor.
Sebastian’s deep voice rumbled from the foyer as he greeted the housekeeper. Clara strained to hear.
“Lovely day out, Mrs. Marshall,” Sebastian said. “I suggest you pay a visit to the park if you’ve got a moment.” He paused, apparently to remove his greatcoat and hat. “Is that your exquisite apple cake I smell? I hope I’m fortunate enough to be offered a piece.”
A teasing lilt in his deep tone had Clara pressing a hand to her chest, the thump of her heart like a bird’s wing against her palm.
Such a thing of beauty was the man’s voice, especially when edged with that beguiling note that spoke of pleasure. Even with the recent struggles that had disheartened him, whatever they might be, Sebastian still found pleasure in a warm autumn day, the scent of baking, making an elderly housekeeper blush. He still found pleasure in life.
Although Clara was fiercely glad that those qualities she had so admired as a young woman were very much a part of Sebastian Hall, she didn’t believe they would advance her cause. A man like him would see no purpose in agreeing to a marriage based on practical ends. A man like him would desire a marriage of attraction. A joyous union of love and passion.
A flush swept up Clara’s neck to sting her cheeks. She could offer him none of those things, and for a moment she faltered in her resolve. This was a fool’s errand, a—
“I’ll just fetch Mrs. Winter, if you’ll wait in the parlor, sir,” Mrs. Marshall said. “I thought she’d be down by now, so prompt she usually is.”
Clara inhaled a hard breath and straightened her spine. She descended the stairs with measured steps, nerves twisting through her belly.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hall.” For the housekeeper’s benefit, Clara managed to keep her voice steady, pitched low, edged with just the right amount of warmth one would use with any welcomed visitor. “Do forgive my tardiness.”
Sebastian watched her approach the foyer, his dark brown gaze sweeping her from head to toe in an appraisal that sent ripples of heat over her skin. “The two minutes I’ve been standing here were worth the wait.”
Clara tried to resist the pull of his compliment, but the pleasure of it lightened her heart just a bit, easing her tension. She paused at the foot of the stairs and allowed herself to look at him. His morning coat was pressed and his boots shining, his face shaved clean of whiskers to reveal the hard edges of his cheekbones and jaw. And yet that rough energy still emanated from him with crackling force, as if proclaiming that this man could never be contained by propriety.