A Passion for Pleasure(53)

He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and folded his arms. “I don’t intend to see my mother again,” he said. “My only hope is that her presence in London remains a secret so as not to cause my family further harm.”

Granville wiped his greasy hands on a cloth, his gaze on the machine. “We’ve no one to tell, Mr. Hall.”

“Even if we’d wanted to,” Clara added.

The snarled knot in Sebastian’s chest loosened, easing the tightness of apprehension. He couldn’t confess any of these recent events to his brothers, but here stood two people with whom he’d been acquainted for less than a fortnight…and he knew to his bones that Clara and Granville would guard his confidences with steadfast dedication.

Words of gratitude stalled in his throat. He gave a short nod and turned to leave, forgetting the reason he’d come.

“Come in,” Clara said. She smoothed wrinkles from a bolt of silk and beckoned him to sit. “Have you taken breakfast yet?”

“I…no.”

“I’ll ask Mrs. Marshall to set another place.” Granville twisted a key on the automaton. The tiger pushed back on its hind legs, then lunged forward across the circular platform on which it crouched. A tiny door in the platform sprang open, and a delicate, painted gazelle leapt out in a graceful arc. A growl emerged from the mechanism as the tiger landed on the hapless creature, bringing it to the ground between two large paws.

“Well,” Clara remarked, “at least it works.”

Granville chuckled. “Commissioned for a man who enjoys hunting, I suspect. He’s sending someone to pick it up later this morning.”

He pushed away from the table and left in search of Mrs. Marshall.

“I’m sorry,” Clara murmured to Sebastian after her uncle was gone. “I shouldn’t have forced you to take me with you last night.”

No, she shouldn’t have, but she knew the truth now—and perhaps that was for the best, considering she was poised to become his wife. He’d been the one to insist the marriage would encompass more than mere legal ties.

Now revealed secrets scattered between them like packages ripped open, surrounded with torn paper and bits of string. Now there was nothing left to hide.

Sebastian went to the automaton and rewound it to watch the gruesome scene play out again.

“Why don’t you want to see her?” Clara asked.

“Because she ruined my family.”

“Your brother appears to be granting her another chance.”

“My brother is a fool if he thinks anything good will come of this.”

Clara was quiet for a moment, though he felt her perceptive gaze peeling through all the hardened layers of his soul. “Don’t make a decision now that you will later regret, Sebastian. Especially where your mother is concerned.”

“For God’s sake.” An old, long-buried anger surfaced. “If anyone should regret their decisions, Clara, it is Catherine Leskovna. Not me.”

“That may be so, but when someone has wronged you and then wishes to make amends…”

“What makes you think she wishes to make amends?”

“If she’d wanted to hurt you, she wouldn’t have gone to Darius first and asked him to facilitate a meeting. She’s giving you the chance to refuse, even though I’m certain she wants more than anything to speak with you again.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“I’m a mother. And I would give my blood to have my son again.”

Sebastian lifted his head to look at her. A pang cut through his chest at the sight of the fathoms-deep longing coloring her eyes.

“You…” A curious knot tightened his throat. “You are nothing like my mother, Clara. You did not make the choice to desert your family. Aside from separation, there are no similarities between my relationship with her and your relationship with Andrew.”

“Separation is a breach, no matter the cause. You have the opportunity, and choice, to cross it and see your mother again. Andrew does not.”

A choice. Sebastian’s fingers curled into his palm. He hadn’t chosen to end his career. Wouldn’t have chosen marriage had it not been for his father’s threats. Hadn’t had much of a choice to help Darius, not when he’d needed the money and, as Darius had bluntly reminded him, he’d had little else with which to occupy his time.

He had, however, chosen Clara. A brilliant, glowing fact he still feared to fully acknowledge in the event it was taken from him.