A Passion for Pleasure(87)

“Mr. Hall?” A twist of alarm crossed Mrs. Fox’s sedate features. “Is everything all right?”

“Tell my brother and Granville.” Sebastian threw the paper into the bin and yanked open the door. “Davies says Fairfax has made plans to take Andrew to the Continent. They’re leaving tomorrow.”



Rain pounded on the roof of the cab. Only a few pedestrians hurried past, umbrellas blooming like mushrooms over their heads and puddles splashing around their feet. Clara peered through the carriage window at the façade of Fairfax’s town house, two windows burning with light. No movement shifted behind the water-streaked glass.

Please, she thought. Please let him come out. Please let them go somewhere, anywhere, just get Andrew away from Fairfax and I’ll think of something…

She slid her gaze to a carriage that rattled over the street and came to a halt at the curb. Her heart stumbled when Sebastian descended and walked toward Fairfax’s house with a long, determined stride.

If he intended to confront her father…

Alarm ripped through her. Without thinking, Clara shoved open the door. “Sebastian!”

He stopped and turned, rain streaming off his hat to drench his shoulders. Two seconds later he was pushing her back into the cab, his expression taut with anger and…fear?

“What?” Clara gasped, clutching at the damp sleeves of his greatcoat. “What happened?”

“He leaves tomorrow for Switzerland. With Andrew.”

“No.” All the strength drained from Clara’s bones, pooling into terror. She sank onto the seat, still gripping his sleeves, trying not to shake. “He can’t.”

“He won’t.” His mouth set in a grim line, Sebastian eased himself away from her and grasped the door handle. “Wait here.”

“No.” She tightened her grip. “You can’t see him.”

“I will—” His voice stopped as he looked to the door of the town house.

Andrew, his tutor, and a footman descended the steps toward a waiting carriage. Sebastian snapped an order at the driver and slammed shut the door of the cab. The cab rattled after the carriage at what seemed an exceedingly slow speed—the dappled mare no match for Fairfax’s fresh gray pair. Thankfully the rain had slowed the pace of traffic, and the cabdriver was able to keep the carriage within his sights.

When the carriage pulled up to the entrance of the British Museum, Clara tried to dart out before Sebastian, but he curved his gloved hand around her wrist and forced her back. Panic clutched her.

“You can’t…”

“Wait here,” he ordered, then vaulted from the cab just as Andrew and his tutor climbed out.

Clara’s breath stopped. Like a blade slicing through cloth, Sebastian ran across the street. Rain streamed down, splashing against mud-slick cobblestones. He dodged a wagon and a water cart, swerved between two phaetons, and skidded onto the steps of the museum before Andrew.

The boy and his tutor recoiled at the sight of the water-drenched stranger, then the tutor reached for Andrew’s shoulder to draw him aside. Sebastian lunged forward. In one movement, he hauled the boy into his arms and ran.

The driver shouted. The white-faced tutor stared. Andrew kicked at Sebastian, twisting and flailing to escape. The footman leapt off the bench and pursued Sebastian, his boots sliding on the slippery stones. Sebastian held fast, darting in front of a ragpicker’s cart to reach the cab.

A burst of hope cracked open Clara’s shell of terror. She threw open the door. “Andrew!”

He twisted in Sebastian’s grip at the sound of her voice. And then he was there. With a cry, Clara clutched her son as Sebastian pushed him into the cab and followed.

“Go,” he shouted at the driver. “Paddington station.”

The driver hesitated. The footman neared, face slashed with determination. Sebastian pounded on the roof. The cab lurched forward just as the footman grabbed the door handle. His foot skidded on the slimy gutter, his grip loosening. The cab clattered down the street, picking up speed as it rounded Great Russell Street and headed toward the train station.

Clara hugged Andrew to her chest, hardly daring to believe she was again holding her son. Tension wove through his slender frame before the fear dissipated, and then he sagged against her. His arms crept around her neck. Clara buried her face in his dark, wet hair and sobbed. Fairfax would have to rip her in two before she’d let her son go again.

Time compressed to nothing when the cab halted in front of the railway station. Sebastian urged Clara and Andrew out before him, handing several coins to the driver before he strode toward the ticket booth.