Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,70

physical attraction? Had this conversation spoiled their chances for anything deeper?

She felt as if she had taken one step forward with Seger—they were getting married after all—but two steps back as far as true intimacy was concerned.

Finally, a small fragment of affection found its way back into his eyes, and he kissed her hand. “I will see you in a few hours?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

With that, and nothing more, he walked out, leaving Clara feeling as if she knew him less now than she had the first time she’d met him.

Chapter 15

“I cannot believe he is going through with it,” Quintina said to Gillian in the carriage on the way to the church. “What in the world did she say to him to prevent him from calling it off?”

Gillian gazed listlessly out the rain-soaked window. “Maybe she lied.”

“We can only hope. If she did, there might be a chance for an annulment. He could claim fraudulent misrepresentation or something of that nature.”

Gillian turned to her. “How do you know about that sort of thing, Auntie?”

Quintina’s eyes bored into Gillian’s. “I’ve been reading up on it, my dear, trying to find ways to shift things in our favor. The last time this happened, Henry—God rest his soul—had used an iron fist to stop Seger’s marriage, but I don’t have that option. Seger is the marquess now and he has an iron will of his own. We must be more conniving and move him to end it himself. Believe me, if there is any way to terminate this, I will find it. I am not one to give up hope.”

“But he is going to marry her today, Auntie. After that, there won’t be any hope.”

Quintina gazed at her niece, saw the pained look in her eye, and remembered the day Susan had died. A sickness had spread through her body, and for weeks leading up to the end, it caused her excruciating pain that made her writhe on the bed. Quintina had found it difficult to stay with her, for it was too horrific to watch. Grotesque, really. She had not been there when Susan died, though Susan, her twin, had asked for her repeatedly.

Quintina still felt guilty about that.

At least Gillian had been there at her mother’s side the entire time, waiting, praying, and hoping. She had been dutiful to the end.

There was such a desolate finality in death, Quintina thought as she watched her niece stare out the window at the passing traffic. No wonder the girl found it difficult to imagine happiness now.

Quintina squeezed Gillian’s hand. “Do not despair. This is happening very quickly, and a man who marries in haste often finds himself nursing regrets later on. Fortunately for us, Seger is not the type to worry about divorce scandals. I believe he would be the first to leap on an opportunity for freedom if he is not happy.” She leaned back and pulled on her gloves. “We must hope there won’t be any children right away. That would only complicate things.”

“What are you saying, Auntie?”

“I’m saying that even if he does marry the American today, it doesn’t mean he will remain married to her. I know, it sounds scandalous to even suggest that there should be a divorce in our family, but I cannot bear to see you hurt. You have been hurt enough, with your dear mother departing this world and your father nothing but a cruel brute, God rest his putrid soul. Your mother was my twin, and you are as precious to me as my own daughter. You deserve to get what you want, Gillian, and you have wanted Seger all your life.”

“I’ve more than wanted him, Auntie. I’ve loved him.” The carriage swayed back and forth and rumbled over the bumpy cobblestones. Gillian smiled at Quintina. “Do you remember when I was twelve, and I fell in the courtyard at Rawdon Manor and cut my knee?”

Quintina nodded, her heart squeezing with sympathy as she recalled that cloudy afternoon.

“I remember how badly it hurt and that I couldn’t get up, and I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t because I was afraid Father would find out. He always got so angry when I cried. Then Seger appeared out of nowhere and scooped me up in his arms and carried me inside. I buried my face in his coat collar, and he said, ‘Don’t worry, Gillian, I’ve got you. You’ll be fine,’ and I burst into tears. Nothing ever felt so good as to cry that day. My