what it feels. I still believe that the marquess should not be ruled out as a possible match for you. He came here today, which suggests that he is at least willing to make an effort to act respectably. Perhaps he does want to change. Perhaps he was only waiting to be invited back into good society, and now that he has been, he will be able to court proper, unmarried young ladies like yourself and look to a brighter future. Perhaps that just wasn’t an option for him before.”
Clara narrowed her eyes at her sister. “First of all, I do not want him courting proper, unmarried young ladies like myself. I only want him to court me. But do you think there’s hope for him? That I should give him a chance?”
“He came here today. He made a promising effort. Yes, I do think you should give him a chance.”
But you haven’t read his letters.
Oh, who was Clara trying to fool? She knew very well that she could no more forget him than she could forget to breathe. Perhaps she simply had to leap in headfirst and take a risk. If it all blew up in her face and he broke her heart, well, she would simply have to live with that. At least that way, she would never have to ask herself, what if?
She only hoped he was as discreet as he claimed to be in his last letter, and that he would not lead her down a winding path to ruin.
Chapter 8
Dear Clara,
The marquess sounds like a very dangerous man....
Adele
Seger walked out of Wentworth House and wondered if he had taken leave of his senses. What was it about Clara Wilson that brought him to such heights of desire? It was entirely out of his realm of experience. It bordered on obsession.
He climbed into his coach and tapped his walking stick against the roof to signal the driver, then he tried to ground himself. He labored to remember the sorts of relationships he was accustomed to. He was not like other men. He was not seeking a socially acceptable wife. He enjoyed his life exactly the way it was.
Why then, had he just taken the first step toward a proper courtship with a respectable young lady, after swearing to both himself and the lady in question, through a number of audacious letters, that he was only interested in a brief, secret affair? The usual stuff where he was concerned. He had made it clear in no uncertain terms that that was what he wanted, but at the last second, after he sent the letter, he panicked—yes, panicked—and feared he had gone too far, come on too strong. Consequently, he made a complete about-face and bloody well contradicted himself. He had called upon her. Properly.
He remembered suddenly that he had dreamed about her the night before. Seger felt a disturbing jolt of confusion, as if two conflicting musical notes were chiming in his head at the same time. He winced at the discord.
He wasn’t even sure what he wanted at this point. It had been a number of years since he’d desired a woman who was innocent. (Presuming the heiress was in fact untouched, which he did presume, rightly or wrongly).
Daphne had been innocent. He had loved her unreservedly without any thought to whether or not it was wise. That led to disaster.
He was, however, no longer a boy. He was a man, and he was the Marquess of Rawdon. His father was no longer alive to dictate Seger’s future. If Seger wished to marry someone completely unsuitable—such as a bold American heiress—no one could stand in his way.
Seger chided himself. He did not wish to marry Miss Wilson. He certainly didn’t need her money. He only wanted her in the physical sense. He wanted to hear her sigh with contentment after he’d brought her to the most ferocious climax she’d ever experienced in her life—all the better if it was her first. What he wouldn’t give to show her that kind of pleasure for the first time.
Which was, he supposed, the primary problem. One couldn’t enjoy an innocent without repercussions. Without responsibility and commitment and permanence. Without the young woman’s expectations of love and devotion.
He had been living too long outside the lines. He’d forgotten how to play by the rules. After Daphne died, he’d lived the life he’d wanted to live, without caring what other people thought about him or wanted from him. Women especially. He