A Passion for Pleasure(73)
Clara could do neither, but she couldn’t very well tell him that. Her spine lengthened as she approached his desk, her skirts rustling softly, her slippers soundless against the carpet.
“I beg you to tell me why Andrew needs a physician. Why you want to send him away.”
Fairfax’s mouth thinned. “I told you. He has suffered prolonged shock over the death of his father. I am doing what is best for him.”
“Will you allow me to accompany him to Switzerland?” Not until the question left her mouth did Clara realize she had even thought of it.
“No.”
“I will go under whatever conditions you impose.” Clara placed her hands flat on the desk and leaned forward, a tremor of urgency threading her bones. She pushed aside thoughts of Sebastian, ignored the ache building around her heart.
“Andrew needs a mother,” she said. “I regret that my behavior forced you to cast me out when you did. I will no longer disrespect your upbringing of my son. I will obey your rules. No one will say an unkind word against me, for they will never again see such a dutiful and loyal daughter. All I ask is to be near my son again.”
“Why should I allow you to be anywhere near him after what you have done?”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t.” Clara struggled against a wave of cold. “But I beg you to give me another chance. Imagine what people will say. How kind Lord Fairfax is to shelter his aggrieved daughter and reunite her with her son. Look at what care he bestows upon her and her son following Mr. Winter’s tragic death.”
Fairfax studied her for a moment from beneath hooded lids. “The death for which you were responsible.”
She shook her head, unable to voice the denials that had boiled inside her for so long. She jerked back when her father slammed a big hand onto the desk, the resounding crash vibrating up her arms.
“Foolish girl,” Fairfax snapped, pressing his fingers against his temple again. “You think you are worth what your useless husband can beg from his father? You think I would take you over an earl’s fortune?”
No. She hadn’t thought that for one second. But she was desperate enough to attempt anything. The black pit of hopelessness inside her widened, threatening to pull her into its endless depths.
No. No. No.
“Sebastian won’t just give you a fortune, you bastard,” Clara hissed, anger exploding like a cannon inside her head. “Not without Andrew in return.”
“You will never have Andrew again.”
“And you will rot in hell.”
“Get out, Clara,” Fairfax said, his expression hardening to stone. “And mark my words. Should you interfere again, I will not hesitate to tell people exactly what kind of woman the Earl of Rushton’s son married.”
Shock filled Clara’s throat. In her desperation, she had not foreseen the danger of such a threat. Unable to counter it, she turned and fled, the door banging shut behind her.
Run.
The command pulsed like a heartbeat through her brain as she hurried into the safety of the carriage. She stared at her father’s town house as the carriage rolled away from the building’s thin, narrow reach.
Although no shadows blurred the windows, Clara sensed Fairfax watching her retreat with the grim satisfaction of a general driving back enemy forces. There would be no compromise.
Run.
No other solution took shape beneath the windstorms whipping against the walls of her heart and soul. She had to seize her son and flee as if the hounds of hell would tear after them. She had to rescue them all from the quicksand of Fairfax’s power or the man would choke the very breath from their throats.
A strange, brittle calm settled into her bones as she entered the Mount Street town house and allowed a maid to take her cloak. The door to Sebastian’s study sat half-open, his deep voice, laced with urgency, rolling into the foyer. Clara paused just outside the door.
Another male voice joined Sebastian’s. Clara recognized it as belonging to Mr. Findlay, who had been drawing up the ineffectual contracts.
Tension gripped her shoulders when she realized the two men were discussing Sebastian’s finances and the possibility of liquidating several assets, selling stocks, and draining a fund he had established to provide music scholarships to worthy students.
Clara closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the cold wall.
What had she done?
In her desperation to have Andrew back, she had dragged Sebastian into a situation so tangled and fraught with peril that even the hope of escape was frail at best.