Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,85
he ordered the lamb and requested a newspaper.
Not five minutes later, he heard someone speak his name and looked up.
“Quintina. Gillian.” He set down the paper and stood. “What are you two doing here?”
As he rose to greet his stepmother, he realized that their relationship had not been quite so strained lately. He had not thought about his anger toward her concerning Daphne, which had been the leading wedge between them for years. He wondered if Clara’s companionship was affecting him in imperceptible ways that were influencing other areas of his life.
“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Quintina said. “We’ve been shopping and thought we would stop for a bite to eat.”
Seger gestured toward the empty chairs at his table. “Please join me.”
The ladies ordered their meals and told Seger about their purchases—hair ribbons and combs for Gillian, a hat for Quintina. Just before the food arrived, however, Quintina pressed a hand to her head.
“My word, I have developed the most painful headache.”
Gillian touched her hand. “Can I get you anything, Auntie?”
“No, no, thank you, dear.” She touched her head again. “Ooh. It is quite severe.” Glancing around the cafe, she said, “I believe I will skip lunch. Would you mind, Seger, if I leave you to bring Gillian home? I wouldn’t want to spoil her afternoon.”
“Certainly.”
“That’s not necessary, Auntie,” Gillian said. “I’ll go with you.”
At that moment, the food arrived. “Don’t be silly, my dear girl. Enjoy your lunch.”
Seger walked Quintina to the door, then returned to his table. He spent a pleasant hour with Gillian, though as usual, he had to work hard to keep the conversation going.
Clara dressed for dinner and walked to the drawing room. She did not expect to see Seger, for he had told her he would be dining at his club with an old friend from Charterhouse who now lived in India—but who was in London for a fortnight.
Clara entered the drawing room. Gillian stood in front of the window, looking out. She turned and smiled brightly when Clara entered the room.
“My, don’t you look lovely this evening,” Gillian said.
Clara wondered how it was possible that Gillian could be so hateful at times and so sweet at others. Sitting down on the sofa, she wished she had brought a book with her so she wouldn’t feel obligated to talk, but she had not thought of it, so here she was.
Gillian sat down next to her. “Did Seger tell you?”
The look in the young woman’s eyes made Clara’s stomach careen with dread. “About what?”
“About the dress? We had lunch together in Piccadilly today, and he told me how much he liked it. I believe he was thinking of it for you.”
“You believe?”
And my husband met you for lunch?
They’re cousins, she told herself. Cousins sometimes ate together.
Gillian stared at her blankly. “Yes, I think that’s what he meant when he mentioned it, though I suppose one can never be sure.”
Clara decided not to respond to that. In fact, she was not going to say one single word. She would not help Gillian spin any tales.
The tense silence caused Gillian to rise to her feet. She wandered to the mantel and fiddled with knickknacks as if she were bored. “It was a very nice lunch, except for when we talked about Lady Cleveland. I hope I didn’t sound too angry.”
The normal response would have been “Angry about what?” but Clara didn’t let herself ask the question, because that’s exactly what Gillian wanted her to do.
Nevertheless, the girl chattered on. “I really do despise that woman. I suppose you must feel the same way. I wish there was some way we could ruin her, you and I together, but I don’t think Seger would like that very much, would he?”
Still, Clara said nothing, but her teeth were grinding together.
Gillian continued. “I know I once said that if I were Seger’s wife, I would look the other way, but now I’m not so sure. I do see your plight. When I bumped into Lady Cleveland today in one of the shops, my blood literally boiled, because I knew Seger had just left her house. He said he’d gone to see his solicitor, and maybe he did, briefly, but I knew the truth.” She gazed down at Clara. “I suppose it’s our lot in life to suffer through that sort of thing, isn’t it?”
That was it.
Clara could not endure one more minute of this petty harassment. She stood up. “I’ve had enough of this, Gillian.”