A Passion for Pleasure(68)

Clara looked at him, her gaze skimming across his face, her fingers tightening on his.

“Oh yes,” she whispered. “It was.”

His heart thumped.

“It seems to me that you have experienced enough regrets in recent months,” she said. “I do not wish for you to endure more of them.”

Neither did he. He’d had so few regrets in his life prior to the difficulty with his hand, simply because he’d always done as he pleased. He’d made a career of doing the very thing he loved to do.

He sighed and looked at Clara, her eyes filled with wary hope. He hated the idea of being the source of yet another disappointment for her. He flexed his right hand and tried to imagine seeing his mother again. A mixture of doubt and, surprisingly, anticipation rose in him.

“All right,” he finally said. “I will pay my mother a visit.”





Chapter Thirteen




Andrew is out with his tutor today.” Clara gripped the curtain in her fist as she stared out the window at Fairfax’s town house. The day following her wedding, she had sent her father a note requesting an interview. He had agreed to see her at precisely three o’clock on Tuesday, and now all the events of the past three days—the wedding, Sebastian’s admission of love, Catherine Leskovna’s visit, and now this meeting—collided in Clara’s mind like crashing stones.

Fear shuddered through her. “I suspect my father wouldn’t have agreed to see us if Andrew were at home. Especially not after—”

Sebastian settled his large hand on the back of her neck, stopping her words. “It’s done,” he said. “We have what he wants. All he needs to do is agree and sign the papers.”

Not wanting to risk granting the baron any time to rethink his decision, Sebastian had had his brother’s solicitor draw up the papers for the transfer of Wakefield House to Fairfax’s name. Even if Fairfax agreed to the terms, Clara knew her father wouldn’t sign the contract without his own solicitor’s review, but at least they could shorten the duration of the transaction.

Sebastian tucked the file of papers beneath his arm and stepped from the carriage. He helped Clara descend, holding her trembling hand in his as they approached the town house and rang the bell.

The gray-haired butler Davies admitted them, rigid as a stone column, his gaze cold as it skirted over Clara. No light of recognition flashed over his impassive features, even though he had known Clara since she was a child and had always treated her with kind respect.

Sorrow congealed in Clara’s throat. “Hello, Davies.”

“Mrs.…Hall. Your father awaits.”

Apprehension shuddered through her as she saw the half-open door of Fairfax’s study, a triangle of light edging from the room. Davies divested Sebastian of his greatcoat and Clara of her cloak before preceding them down the corridor.

Her father stood beside the hearth, his lean frame sheathed in a black morning coat and gray waistcoat, his white hair furrowed with comb marks. Like a tree in winter, stark and unyielding.

Clara smothered the urge to remain within the comfort of Sebastian’s presence. She made a quick gesture indicating he should remain by the door. Though protest vibrated from him, he came to a stop.

Clara’s heart slammed against her ribs as she forced herself to take measured steps across the carpet. Never had a room felt so vast, so cavernous, as she made her way to where her father stood. Sweat collected on her nape when she finally halted and lifted her head to meet his cool, gray eyes.

“My lord.” Her voice shook. She swallowed and tried to conceal the shades of panic coloring her words. “Thank you for agreeing to see me. I beg your forgiveness for my rash and imprudent behavior earlier this month.”

Fairfax didn’t reply. He slanted his gaze to Sebastian. “You, there. What did you hope to gain by marrying her?”

“A good wife.” Sebastian’s deep voice rang close behind Clara. Relief rippled through her at his nearness, despite her mandate that he remain by the door.

“Mr. Hall did us both a great service with this union,” Clara said. A bead of sweat rolled down her spine as she continued to hold her father’s flinty gaze. “The day we wed, Wakefield House transferred into his name.”

Satisfaction clenched in her as a flash of surprise glinted in Fairfax’s expression. Papers rustled. Sebastian placed the contract on the low table between them.

“What is that?” Fairfax jerked his chin to the papers.