A Passion for Pleasure(52)

Clara hurried after him, nearly colliding into his solid back when she stepped outside. He stood with his shoulders hunched, his fists curled at his sides. She searched the shadows, relief welcome when she saw the cab rolling along the other side of the street. The driver had kept his word to wait.

When the cab was rattling through the streets, Clara gazed at Sebastian across from her, shards of light and shadow slanting across the hard planes of his face, his eyes burning, the black of his hair indistinct against the night.

“Don’t allow her to leave without seeing you again.” Her words came out as a whisper, floating on the dark air.

He didn’t respond, his jaw tight.

“Sebastian. She is your mother.”

“She betrayed us all. She can rot in hell, for all I care.”

“If you…” Her throat constricted. “If you do not give her the chance to make amends, you will regret it forever.”

“I have no reason for regret. She does.”

Pleas twisted through Clara’s mind. She knew nothing about the former Countess of Rushton—only that the other woman was a mother anxious to see her son again. Although Clara could not fathom the reasons behind Catherine Leskovna’s decision to leave her family, she knew all too well how it felt to long for one’s child. And to have that wish thwarted.

Clara started to speak again, but Sebastian held up a hand to forestall her. Words, pleas, faded in her throat.

When they reached the museum, Sebastian pushed open the door and strode to the front steps. Clara fitted the key into the lock and went inside, then turned and watched as he strode away, his back straight and stiff as metal.





Chapter Nine


Sebastian paced to the hearth. He’d spent a sleepless night wrestling with everything Darius had told him the previous evening. By morning he had still come to no satisfying conclusion. So rather than dissect the problem of his mother until his brain ached more than it already did, or surrender to his festering anger toward Darius, Sebastian would concentrate on the fact that he was to marry Clara Winter two days hence.

Ought to be interesting explaining that to the rest of his family.

He gave a hoarse chuckle and scrubbed his sore eyes. It might have been better if all his relations had remained in London. Then none of this would have happened.

Clara wouldn’t have happened.

His heart stung. He dragged a hand across his chest, his mind flaring with pictures of her blue-violet eyes shimmering with heat and determination. He didn’t want to imagine his life if she hadn’t entered it. Couldn’t.

Sebastian ordered the carriage, shoving his arms into his greatcoat as he descended the steps. A half hour later he was opening the door of Blake’s Museum of Automata and facing Mrs. Fox, who rose like a dark sun from behind her desk.

“Welcome to Blake’s…oh. Mr. Hall.” A gray thread of disapproval knotted her voice.

“Good morning, Mrs. Fox.” His attempt at a smile felt as if it might crack his face. “Lovely to see you again. Is Mrs. Winter at home?”

“She’s in the studio, as usual.”

He started down the corridor. With a swiftness that belied her redoubtable severity, Mrs. Fox stepped into his path.

“The fee, Mr. Hall,” she said, “is one shilling.”

Sebastian laughed, undiluted amusement coursing through him. It was the first genuine laugh he’d experienced in more than an age. The sound of it, booming and sudden, startled Mrs. Fox, who retreated a step and stared at him in astonishment.

Still chuckling, Sebastian went back to the carriage. He retrieved five shillings from the footman and returned to Mrs. Fox. He pressed the coins into her gloved hand and closed her fingers around them.

“Well worth the cost of admission,” he assured her with a wink.

The woman gaped at him, a pink blush bringing a welcome color to her pallid cheeks.

Sebastian’s spine straightened as he continued to the studio. He found Clara folding swaths of silk and stacking them in colorful squares onto a shelf. Granville sat at a table, adjusting an automaton of a crouching tiger. Brilliant stripes of black and orange decorated the animal, its pointed teeth gleaming white and its face twisted into a snarl.

Clara and Granville both looked up at Sebastian’s entrance. A faint tension crackled the air as they exchanged glances. In an instant, Sebastian knew Clara had confided all to her uncle.

Irritation needled him. Unwarranted, he knew. He himself had solicited their aid in not only finding the plans, but relinquishing them to him.