A Passion for Pleasure(64)
And yet both heat and tenderness billowed through her every time she allowed herself to relive those moments in Sebastian’s arms, the flex of his muscles beneath her hands, the glide of flesh against flesh. The sensation of his heart beating against hers.
“Mrs. Hall?” Mrs. Fox’s voice came from the doorway. “A visitor has just arrived.”
Clara forced down the tangle of emotions and schooled her features into impassivity before she turned to face Mrs. Fox.
“Have they requested a tour?” she asked.
“She has requested to speak with you,” Mrs. Fox replied, her severe expression mitigated by a faint air of confusion.
With a frown, Clara followed her to the foyer. A tall, dark-haired woman, clad in a plain black cloak and hat, stood beside the desk. Her large, dark eyes were framed by thick eyelashes, and her skin appeared bronzed from the sun.
The instant Clara met her gaze, she knew the identity of the woman. Her heart crashed against her ribs as she stepped forward.
“Mrs.…?” Her voice faltered.
“Leskovna.” The woman extended an elegant hand, her eyes sweeping Clara from head to toe. “You are Mrs. Sebastian Hall?”
“I am.”
A strained silence fell. Mrs. Fox cleared her throat delicately.
“Mrs. Hall, if you’d care to bring your guest into the parlor, I will have tea brought in.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you, Mrs. Fox.” Grateful for the direction, Clara gestured for Sebastian’s mother to follow her and closed the door behind them. “Mrs. Leskovna, I’m glad to make your acquaintance. Darius is in the studio with my uncle, but I’m afraid Sebastian isn’t here.”
“I know. It’s the only reason I dared visit you.” Catherine Leskovna tugged off her gloves. She cast a glance around at the automata and mechanical toys. “I feared Sebastian might have me thrown out otherwise.”
Clara’s chest constricted as she murmured, “He wouldn’t do that.”
Yet her words did not have the ring of conviction, and clearly Catherine sensed its lack. Clara waited, guarded, uncertain of the reason the woman would have come here knowing Sebastian was elsewhere.
“I’m certain you know the reasons my children have renounced me,” Catherine said. “When I heard about Sebastian’s resignation from Weimar, I could not believe it. I was convinced something disastrous had befallen him. Sebastian would never abandon his patrons and supporters on the basis of a disagreement over his work. I had to learn the truth of what had happened to him.”
“Why did you not approach him first, then?”
“If I’d thought he would speak to me, I would have. And perhaps he might have considered it, were he not so loyal to Alexander. Even as children, he and Alexander had a bond that would not be broken. And I know…” She paused and looked down at the floor, only the slight tremble in her voice disclosing her emotions. “I know Alexander has forsaken my very existence. Sebastian would not betray his brother by opening the door to me.”
“Yet Darius did.”
Catherine gave a sad smile. “Darius is ruled by his head rather than his heart. Not unlike his father. Though he might feel hurt by my actions, Darius would not allow his emotions to overrule his intellectual curiosity. Not to mention his appreciation of a good challenge. And so when I approached him and explained the situation, he conceded to my request. Yet Sebastian continues to refuse a meeting with me.”
“Surely you understand the reasons why.”
“Yes. But I cannot remain in London much longer, Mrs. Hall. I am aware of the scandal I created, and in its aftermath I thought I would leave England forever. Certainly that was the least I could do considering the wreckage I created. I returned solely for the purpose of seeing Sebastian again, but I will not allow my presence here to cause renewed gossip.”
A brief knock announced Mrs. Marshall arriving with the tea tray. After the housekeeper left, Clara poured the tea and sat back to study Sebastian’s mother. Catherine Leskovna had lost the refined elegance of a countess, but she possessed a kind of self-assurance, a calmness, that seemed at odds with the disgrace of her infidelity.
Though Clara had encouraged Sebastian to visit his mother, a flare of anger swept through her chest suddenly. How dare Catherine Leskovna not flay herself with remorse over what she had done? How dare she sit here with such graceful stillness, as if she did not regret anything? How dare she seem to be at peace?