A Passion for Pleasure(27)
“Do come in.” Clara gestured to the parlor. “Tea, please, Mrs. Marshall.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The housekeeper puffed off toward the kitchen.
Clara led Sebastian inside and bade him sit. Her eyes traveled swiftly over the room, though she had spent the morning instructing Mrs. Marshall and Tom on how best to clean and arrange the furnishings.
Now it appeared perfect—the windows gleaming, every surface clean of dust, the wood polished to a shine. Several vases of flowers bloomed, perfuming the air with sweetness. The bouquets were an expense the household could ill afford, but Clara had only one chance at this, and she needed all the weapons at her disposal. Flowers brightened the room, adding splashes of color that pleased the eye, and their fragrance could soothe an intemperate disposition.
Moreover, not five minutes ago Sebastian had encouraged Mrs. Marshall to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather, so surely the man would appreciate the beauty of the bouquets.
Clara swept her hand over the surface of a table, collecting a few shed petals in her palm. She walked to the settee, dropping the petals discreetly into a Grecian urn before taking her place across from her guest.
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
He nodded. Although his clothing was pressed to perfection, his hair was still overlong and mussed by the wind. He lifted his left hand as if to drag it through the dark strands, then seemed to think better of the gesture and lowered his hand to his knee. His right hand remained tucked into his pocket. “Is your uncle here?”
“No.” Now her heart began to pound tangibly. “I don’t expect Uncle Granville back until supper. And Mrs. Fox has gone to the shops.”
“Ah, well.” He shifted, his shoulders moving beneath the stretch of his coat. A shallow crease formed between his eyes. “So what is this about then, Clara?”
She loved the way he said her name, as if his voice were embracing it.
Heat suffused her. She rose in a rustle of skirts and went to the door to hide her discomfort.
“Let’s have tea first, shall we?” She forced herself to sound casual and airy as she peered into the foyer. “Ah, here we are. Thank you, Mrs. Marshall. Apple cake too, how lovely.” She waited for the housekeeper to depart, leaving the door ajar, before returning to the sitting area.
She concentrated on pouring the tea before extending a cup and saucer toward Sebastian. She glanced up and saw that he was watching the movement of her hands.
Her lips parted, but no words emerged. Her body reacted as if he were touching her, heat searing across her skin. She put the cup down on the table in front of him. The cup rattled in the saucer, betraying her slight tremor.
Clara sat back and curled her fingers into her palms. Her corset and bodice constricted around her, shortening her breath. She watched Sebastian as he brought the teacup to his mouth, his lips closing over the paper-thin rim.
The heat intensified. Clara tore her gaze away. Not daring to lift her own cup for fear of revealing the unsteadiness of her hands, she rose again and went to the windows. She waited a few heartbeats for Sebastian to enjoy his tea and a slice of cake. Wouldn’t do to have the man hungry as well as shocked.
“Sebastian, I…I’ve asked you here for a specific reason.” Her voice, at least, remained even. She waited for him to set his cup down and turn to face her.
Again, no surprise flashed across his features, only a faint curiosity. “And what reason is that?”
She had rehearsed this. She had a speech prepared. For hours last night, she’d lain in her bed and practiced it over and over again in her mind. She knew where to start, where to pause for effect, how to list her reasons in a tone that was both persuasive and practical. She intended to call upon every determined technique she possessed in order to convince Sebastian Hall that he must agree to marry her.
And yet all her intentions fell away as she blurted out the words with hasty desperation. “Sebastian, I wish to present you with a marriage proposition.”
There it was. The shock he hadn’t yet exhibited now flared in his eyes, spread across his features. He blinked. His mouth opened and closed.
Clara clenched her fists and cursed inwardly. Now he’d think she was mad. She held up a hand to forestall his stammered response.
“Please, hear me out.” She forced a wry note into her voice. “I didn’t mean to surprise you, though I can’t imagine what other reaction I expected.”
He stared at her for a second, then barked out a laugh. “Of all the reasons I could imagine for you inviting me here, that most certainly was not one of them.”