A Passion for Pleasure(88)

Clara pulled away from Andrew, cupping his face in her hands. She brushed her thumbs across his damp cheeks. “Are you all right?”

He nodded but didn’t speak. The train steamed into the station, disgorging clusters of passengers before the conductor called for embarkment. Clara turned to see Sebastian coming toward them, tickets in hand. He handed her two and guided her toward the door.

A sudden shout pierced her like an icicle. She whirled around, pulling Andrew closer. The footman and a police constable pushed through the crowd behind Sebastian. People gasped, parting to give them way.

Clara edged toward the train, her grip tightening on Andrew’s shoulder. The constable came closer. A wall of people closed between Clara and the train door. Air squeezed from her lungs. Sebastian’s hand slipped away from her.

Her heart slammed against her chest when he pivoted and shoved toward the approaching men. Before Clara could speak, he lunged toward the footman and sent them both to the platform floor. A woman screamed. People scattered.

“Sebastian!” Clara shouted. Panic flooded her as the crowd surged, pushing her toward the train.

She gripped the bar beside the train door. Her breath lodged in her throat when the constable edged around the struggling footman and started toward Clara.

The train started to move. Sebastian gripped the footman’s arm and twisted it behind his back.

The constable shoved aside two men, his expression dark and determined. Clara pushed Andrew ahead of her onto the train. A woman bumped into her from behind.

Then, quick as a cat, Sebastian leapt to his feet. He threw a punch at the footman. The man stumbled back. Sebastian ran for the train, dodging the constable. He grabbed hold of the pull-bar with his left hand and vaulted into the car just as it picked up speed. He slammed the door closed.

Clara clutched his arm. “Are you all right?”

He nodded, his chest heaving as he guided her and Andrew to a seat. He sat across from them, bracing his elbows on his knees as he caught his breath. Clara hugged Andrew closer, a shiver racing down her spine.

“Sebastian, what happened?” she whispered.

“Your father’s butler sent a note about their departure.” Sebastian sat up, pulling a hand through his hair. “It seems he realized Fairfax had planned nothing good.”

Beside Clara, Andrew tensed. She looked at her son, brushing his chestnut hair away from his forehead.

“Did you know about this?” she asked. “Why did your grandfather want to take you away?”

Andrew didn’t respond. He turned to look out the window, all emotion concealed behind a shield of wariness. A frown tugged at Clara’s mouth. She didn’t press him for a response, but kept her arm around his shoulders.

“Where can we go?” she asked Sebastian, keeping her voice low to avoid being overheard.

“Our family seat in Devon. We’ll stay there while we determine what to do next.”

They fell silent as the train rumbled over the tracks. Rain pounded on the windows, blurring the darkening view of the crowded London streets as they gave way to the expanse of the countryside. Shivers continued to ice Clara’s skin. The hum of conversation rose from other passengers. A porter came by with tea and biscuits.

When Andrew dozed off, lulled by exhaustion and the rocking motion of the train, Clara looked across at Sebastian again. She dreaded to know the results of his conversation with Rushton, so instead she asked, “Did you see your mother?”

He nodded.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Sebastian sighed and dragged a hand down his unshaven jaw. “Apparently she surrendered all for the sake of love.”

“Love?”

An image of Catherine Leskovna came to Clara’s mind, the calm and unrepentant woman who seemed at utter peace with her decisions. Had love been the balm that mended the wounds of her infidelity?

“Will you tell me her story?” she asked Sebastian.

He turned his gaze to the window, but told her about his meeting with Catherine and how a single encounter with a young soldier eventually led her to a love strong enough to pull her from her entire family.

Clara had no response when Sebastian fell silent. She, too, had deceived Sebastian. She had betrayed him. But she had done so with Andrew at the forefront of her mind. She had done so because she wanted her son back. Catherine Leskovna’s deceit and betrayal had separated her from her children, and that Clara would never understand.

Gazing across the distance between the seats, at once a space both too close and inaccessibly remote, Clara loosened her suppressed emotions and allowed them to fill her chest. She looked at the sharp, whiskered planes of Sebastian’s face, the wide slash of his mouth, and his thick-lashed eyes, which seemed capable of penetrating all the layers of her soul.