A Passion for Pleasure(74)

Clara pushed away from the wall and tried to draw air into her constricted chest.

She had to leave her husband. If she managed to seize Andrew and run away, Fairfax might turn his attention toward pursuing them and leave Sebastian alone.

Dear God, let him leave Sebastian alone. She could break the tenuous prayer with a breath, so thin and slight were its chances of being answered, but Clara had nothing else. She would succeed in this rash, dangerous escape for no other reason than to save her son and protect the man she loved beyond measure.

She pressed her hands to her eyes and allowed the strong, lovely pleasure of that admission to ease her simmering agony. Leaving the flow of conversation behind her, she went to her bedchamber and sat at the secretary.

A plan. She needed to sever her emotions and employ every particle of intellect and cunning she possessed in order to implement a plan. She dipped a pen into the inkwell and began to write.

She would defeat Fairfax. She had to defeat Fairfax, even if no one had ever done so before.





Chapter Fifteen


There was a regimen to Fairfax’s household. Clara had lived within its boundaries for most of her life, so she knew her father adhered to strict routines and behaviors. Both times she had gone to the Belgravia town house, in the late afternoon, Andrew and his tutor had ostensibly been on an outing to the public garden.

Clara would give herself three days to determine the schedule. She could afford to wait no longer than that. Fairfax might leave London at the end of next week, and if Andrew were once again confined to Manley Park or, God forbid, an institution in Switzerland, Clara knew she could never breach such impenetrable walls.

This was her only chance. The day following Fairfax’s threat, she hired a cab just before tea, making excuses to Sebastian that she needed to run some errands and would prefer to leave him the carriage since she didn’t know when she expected to return.

Not quite a lie, any part of it.

She didn’t dare venture close to Fairfax’s town house and instead instructed the cabdriver to stop at the edge of Belgrave Square Garden. If Andrew and his tutor walked to the park from the town house, they would likely take Chapel Street. Hands knotted together, sweat trickling down her back, Clara waited.

She watched birds pecking at bits of grass. Pedestrians strolled along the pathways. Smoke wafted from a coal fire at the meat-pie stand situated on the corner of the street. The vendor, a man with whom Clara had conversed that morning, caught her eye and gave a short nod.

A humorless laugh lodged in Clara’s throat. The man’s pockets bulged with the small fortune she’d given him in advance for his assistance. Never had she imagined she would be in league with a meat-pie vendor.

A wan-faced girl trudged past the cab, her thin fingers clenched around an open box of ribbons, scraps of fabric, and spools of snarled thread.

A thin stream of sunlight fell onto the box, sparking against the shiny waves of ribbons. On impulse, Clara pushed the door open. “Miss? Miss!”

The girl turned, regarding Clara through weary eyes. “Thread, ma’am?”

“The ribbons.” Clara dug into her pocket for the remainder of the coins. “How much are they?”

“A penny apiece, ma’am.”

“Give me all of them, please.”

The girl’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she quickly gathered the trailing ribbons. Clara gave the girl several shillings, then closed her hand around the ribbons and shut the cab door. The ribbons slithered between her fingers, bright and shiny. She tucked the spilling mass into her pocket and returned her attention to the window.

Her heart stumbled over itself as a familiar figure rounded the corner.

Not Andrew. Not Fairfax.

Sebastian strode to the cab as if it were his intended destination, his steps long and determined, the breeze ruffling his dark hair beneath his hat. Clara shrank back and tried to dissolve into the shadows, but a spear of sunlight flared against her as Sebastian wrenched open the door.

Their gazes clashed for an instant before the driver shouted down at him.

“I’m her husband,” Sebastian replied curtly, tossing his hat onto the seat. “Leave off and there’s a crown in it for you.”

The driver fell silent. Clara’s fingernails dug into her palms as Sebastian entered the cab and slammed the door behind him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice edged with steel.

“I…I thought to catch a glimpse of Andrew again.”