A Passion for Pleasure(8)
He gave a bitter laugh and took a swallow of his drink. “Hell, in the end, she didn’t even care about her family, did she?”
Sebastian couldn’t disagree. No one had heard from the former Countess of Rushton, who had disgraced their family by having an affair with a Russian soldier. After Rushton divorced her, she had fled England and her children to live in sin with her lover. No one knew where she was now.
The woman was dead as far as Alexander was concerned. The earl hadn’t spoken of her in the years following the divorce, not until now. All traces of her were long gone from every property in Rushton’s domain. Talia no longer mentioned her. Nicholas…well, no one ever knew where his loyalties lay, except perhaps Darius, but the distance of oceans had long separated the twins.
Sebastian wondered if his brothers and sister thought of their mother anymore. Almost three years later, he was still twisting the thing around and around in his mind, like unraveling a knotted ball of twine. He would never have expected such betrayal from his mother, who had seemed both faultless and distant.
The countess—indeed, the earl as well—had left the rearing of their five children to nurses and governesses before sending the boys off to school. Nothing about the utter correctness of their upbringing and their parents’ marriage had prepared the Hall children for the consequences of their mother’s affair and the subsequent divorce.
Catherine, Countess of Rushton, had been possessed of a lovely perfection that one could gaze upon but never touch. She’d been like a window decorated with spangles and curls of ice, cold against one’s fingertips, impenetrable.
Except for when she played the piano.
“Find a woman who is the opposite of your mother,” Rushton said, “and you’ll begin your marriage on a far stronger foundation than I did.”
When Sebastian didn’t respond, Rushton stepped closer, his mouth compressing. “In fact, Bastian, I suggest you seriously consider my words. Do not think I’m averse to withholding your allowance, or indeed, even your inheritance, should you continue following this ignominious path on which you have embarked.”
Rushton turned and strode toward the card room. Sebastian smothered a flare of anger, hating that his father’s threat could affect him now. Five months ago, he’d have laughed and gone off to flirt with any woman, respectable or not, who happened to catch his eye. Nothing Rushton said would have altered his desire to live as he pleased.
Now he could no longer do that, even if his father hadn’t issued a command.
Finding it difficult to draw in air, Sebastian headed through the adjoining room toward the gardens. Alexander would help him financially if he asked. But asking meant he would have to divulge more than he wanted. Asking would mean disrupting Alexander’s own life, now finally one of happiness and contentment. Asking would mean defying Rushton and forcing Alexander to do the same.
Asking would mean eliciting his brother’s pity.
Not for the first time, Sebastian experienced a pang of envy at the thought of his elder brother.
Alexander fixed things. If he were in Sebastian’s position, he would force things back into place—by the strength of his will alone if there were no other method. He wouldn’t capitulate to their father’s wishes because he had no other choice.
Then again, Rushton wouldn’t give Alexander an ultimatum of any kind. Since the scandal and divorce, Alexander’s successes had only illuminated Rushton’s failings as both a peer and a father. Now that Rushton’s new appointment as Undersecretary at the Home Office had garnered a degree of prestige among his fellow peers, he intended to ensure that the rest of his family fell into a straight and precise line right behind Alexander.
Starting with Sebastian.
Chapter Two
She dreamed of him again. For two nights after seeing Sebastian Hall for the first time in a decade, Clara’s slumberous mind filled with images of the man she remembered from her past. The handsome young musician whose eyes creased with smiles, whose graceful hands flew across the piano keys like soaring birds. She dreamed of herself, so many years ago when she, William, and their mother had lived within the enchanted land of Wakefield House, when they had greedily seized those summer days like children grabbing cream-filled cakes.
She dreamed of the grassy hills cresting around the warm, rustic stones of Wakefield House, the wildflowers popping up in fragrant clusters, the gliding foam of the sea as it surged forth to meet the sandstone cliffs hugging the coast.