Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,64
and send Gillian in to take over where the heiress had left off, after having lit the stove, so to speak.
A sudden heated rage rose up inside Quintina. Gillian had been waiting forever. She’d wanted Seger since she was a girl!
Quintina rose from her chair, picked up a vase full of flowers from the sideboard, and smashed it on the floor.
The American. In two weeks. It couldn’t be true.
She took a number of deep breaths to calm herself, then left the breakfast room and informed the housekeeper that she required a carriage right away. She had to send an urgent telegram to America. She could not let this marriage take place.
Chapter 14
Dear Clara,
He must truly love you if he is willing to give up his way of life for you. If you want to be happy, you must believe that in your heart.
Love,
Adele
Beatrice Wilson of New York stepped out of the grand ducal coach and onto the pavement. Wearing a flounced traveling gown that made her look even shorter and plumper than she was naturally, she gazed up at Wentworth House from beneath a wide brimmed, purple plumed hat.
This was the home of a duke. Her daughter’s home. A wave of satisfaction washed over her.
Her maid stepped out behind her just as Beatrice’s two daughters came running out the front door to greet her.
“Mother,” Sophia said. “You’re here at last.”
They hugged and laughed, then Clara and Sophia stepped back to give their mother room to breathe.
“You both look beautiful,” Beatrice said. “Congratulations, Clara. I can’t wait to meet this marvelous young man you have captured, and Sophia, I must see my grandchildren.”
“Of course. Come inside.”
A footman took care of the trunks, while the housekeeper greeted Beatrice’s maid and showed her to her room in the servants’ quarters.
A short while later, Beatrice was in the nursery picking up her newest grandson, John, second in line to the dukedom. “What a beautiful boy you are,” she cooed, letting him clasp her finger. “Sophia, what an accomplishment. Two sons in two years. The dowager must be pleased.”
“She is, Mother. I never thought I would say it, but we’ve become very close.”
Clara gathered Liam into her arms.
“And you....” Beatrice said, turning to Clara. “You are about to marry a marquess. My two girls. What legends you have become back home. Sophia tells me your marquess is devastatingly handsome. No doubt your children will be the envy of all the mothers in England.”
Clara smiled, wondering if the future heir to the title was already planted in her womb. “He is handsome, Mother. And charming and wonderful. I’m very happy.”
“I’m glad. You deserve it. The world has come around right, has it not?”
“Yes, Mother,” Clara replied, knowing her mother was referring to that dreadful time two years ago, when it felt like any hope for respectability had been lost forever.
“How is Adele?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
“Adele is having a wonderful time going to parties and balls, but she has not written off the possibility of a London Season of her own. She might wish to come next year and explore the spoils London has to offer—spoils which seem to be quite impressive, judging by what you two have accomplished.”
She winked at Clara and swayed from side to side to rock the baby. “I’ve hired an English governess for Adele,” she continued, “and the woman is spectacular. She knows all about the aristocracy and tells me she has connections here as well. Though of course, what better recommendation can a young woman have than to be the sister of a duchess and a marchioness?” Beatrice’s eyes glimmered with pride. “I am so proud of both of you.”
“You will be even more proud,” Sophia said, “when you meet the marquess and his family at the Wilkshire Ball. May I be the first to tell you that the date of the wedding has been moved up since yesterday? They’re going to be married next week, Mother. They are that much in love.”
Beatrice’s mouth fell open. “You don’t say. Then it is true.”
“What’s true, Mother?” Clara asked.
“That it’s a love match. The newspapers in America are churning the story out like butter.”
Clara laughed out loud. “But where would they hear such a thing?”
“Heaven knows. The only thing that matters is that you are an American heroine.” She affectionately wiggled Clara’s nose. “I can’t wait to meet this man of yours.”
Sophia approached and put her arm around Clara. “You will approve of Lord Rawdon, Mother. I am sure