Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,80
Gillian glared impatiently at her aunt. “Which is what?”
“You must continue to say things that make her mad with jealousy. Hint at things—even things about Daphne—but never be clear. When you are with Seger, behave as you always have. Even ignore him a little more than usual, so he will think that Clara is imagining everything. If we can drive her to tears, that will be even better, because you know how he hates that sort of behavior. He’ll think she’s unbalanced. Then, I will top it all off with my trump card.”
“What’s your trump card, Auntie?”
Quintina smiled. “Would you really like to know?”
A glimmer of malice lighted Gillian’s eyes. “Of course.”
Quintina sat down on the bed. “As it happens, there is a gentleman traveling here now from America. His name is Gordon Tucker, and he has agreed to do something for me.”
Clara spent the afternoon riding with Gillian through Hyde Park. She had not wanted to go, but she hadn’t wanted Seger to learn that she’d refused, so she accepted Gillian’s invitation, donned her black riding habit and top hat, and pasted on a smile.
The sky was overcast and the air cool, and as Clara galloped over the grass, she was surprised to be enjoying herself. Perhaps it was because Gillian was so quiet. She spoke very little, never mentioning their conversation the morning before. She merely rode ahead of Clara, who gladly brought up the rear. She had no desire to race with the girl.
They were on their way home, however, when Gillian slowed her pace and waited for Clara to ride up beside her. Their horses nickered and flicked their ears.
“What a glorious day for a ride,” Gillian said. “We should do this every afternoon.”
“It is lovely indeed.”
“I enjoy our friendship very much, Clara. I am so happy Seger married you.”
The statement surprised Clara, who instantly doubted her feelings from the day before. Perhaps she had jumped to conclusions, and Seger had been perfectly justified to react the way he had.
“I enjoy it, too, Gillian,” she replied, patting her horse’s neck.
They trotted side by side. “Did you know,” Gillian said, “that my father had once wanted me to marry Seger?”
Clara’s mood took a sudden dive. “Is that so?” She did not want to be having this conversation!
“Yes,” Gillian said brightly. “I refused, of course. I told my father that Seger was only a friend to me, that I could never imagine him as my husband, and then after the scandal with Daphne, and Seger’s withdrawal from society.... Well, Father changed his tune after that. He wouldn’t hear of it. He wanted someone respectable for me. Of course, I never believed that Seger was not respectable. I knew he had more honor than any other man in London, and he was merely pining away over Daphne, whom he had loved very deeply. But Father could never see that. He didn’t know Seger as I did.” She gave Clara a sidelong glance. “But you must know him intimately as well, because you’re his wife. He must share everything with you. He probably tells you he loves you every time you’re together.” She looked up at the sky. “You are a very lucky woman, Clara.”
Clara didn’t feel so lucky at the moment. She felt like she was losing her mind. Nothing Gillian said hinted at anything untoward between her and Seger. Gillian had said that Seger had been a friend to her, and that her feelings went no deeper than that. Yet there was something in her tone. Something that goaded Clara—and seemingly on purpose. Gillian’s voice was condescending, and she seemed intent to have Clara recognize it.
And she kept bringing up Daphne.
“I’m so happy we’re like sisters now,” Gillian said, “and that we can tell each other everything. It must be wonderful to be married. I envy you. Tell me about it, Clara. How many times a day does Seger tell you he loves you? Do you ever get tired of hearing it?”
Clara swallowed over the urge to tell Gillian to go ride her horse straight into the Thames. She reminded herself, however, that Gillian was a member of Seger’s family, and she could not be so rude. And for all she knew, maybe she was imagining things. She could be feeling vulnerable because of all the other women in Seger’s life—whether they were former lovers propositioning him at balls, hateful cousins, or the ghosts from his past.