not been free. He had been in chains, afraid to love. Afraid to let Clara into his guarded heart.
None of that mattered now. This...this new understanding of his misconceptions about the past was opening his heart and mind to the extraordinary gift he had in the present.
Still staring down at the letters, he recalled Clara’s patience and understanding when he had not been willing to give her his whole heart. He had never told her he loved her. He hadn’t known that he had, but now.... Yes, now he knew.
He had desired her from the first moment he saw her across a crowded ballroom. And every day since, that desire had grown until it matured into love. Love! Now that Daphne was here before him, he knew that he loved his wife, and he knew that she had been unwavering in her love for him.
“I don’t need to read these,” he said. “I already know how she feels.” She has shown me every day. She has persisted, steady in her constancy, while I have shut her out.
He heard Daphne’s voice as if it were coming from a great distance away. “You should know something else, Seger. Quintina paid Gordon Tucker to follow Clara yesterday. I know because I went to see him. He told me that Clara loathed him because he was a threat to what she had with you.”
Seger touched Daphne’s arm. “Thank you.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry for what I did to you, Seger. You’ve suffered long enough. You deserve happiness. Go and seize it.”
He stepped forward and took Daphne into his arms.
Clara peered out the coach window, saw Seger kiss Daphne’s hand, and knew she couldn’t bear to watch any more of this. Her fists were clenched so tight, she was surely going to draw blood. She needed air.
She opened the door and got out. She walked around to the other side of the coach—the street side, where she wouldn’t have to look at them, and where they wouldn’t be able to see her—and leaned her head back against the side of the vehicle.
What in God’s name was her husband thinking about and feeling right now? Had his love for Daphne come flooding back, and had he already forgotten the fact that he had a wife watching and waiting?
He had a wife.
Little more than a month ago, he had been a free man. He had married Clara very hastily. Was he regretting it now? Had proposing to her suddenly become the worst, most impulsive mistake he’d ever made?
Glancing up at the coachman, who was oblivious to her at the moment, she tried to decide what to do. She had always been understanding when it came to her husband’s grieving heart, but this was too much. He was now taking advantage of that understanding, and she couldn’t bear the weight of it anymore. She wasn’t a saint. She was a woman with passions and fears. Did he ever think of that? No. He was presently kissing another woman’s hand right under her nose—a woman he had admitted was the greatest love of his life.
It was just as Mrs. Gunther had said it would be.
Could Clara live like this? Could she survive a marriage that would cause heartache day in and day out? If it wasn’t Daphne, it was Gillian or Lady Cleveland or a score of other beautiful huntresses, all of whom wanted a share of her husband, and Clara wasn’t sure she could ever learn to trust him enough not to let them bother her.
She couldn’t go on like this.
A hackney cab came toward her, and the need to escape this pain and anger displaced all sense of reason. She stepped forward and waved a hand. The cab pulled to a stop in front of her, and she got in. As soon as she closed the door, she looked up at her coachman, who glanced down at her. He lurched forward in his seat, but it was too late for him to do anything. Her cab was driving away.
She was glad. It was time Seger knew that she was not his ever-faithful crutch. It was time he fretted about her for a change.
Seger walked back to his coach. He couldn’t wait to see Clara and prevail upon her the genuine truth that he wanted no woman in the world but her, and that he now had concrete proof that she was telling the truth about Gordon. He would assure her that he would deal with Gillian and Quintina