Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,94
about her, I’ll listen. I want you to share your feelings with me.”
He considered that for a few seconds, then kissed her. “Thank you, but I believe I will refrain from talking any more about my tragic youth. Let’s put it behind us, shall we?”
He was right. It would hurt if he talked about Daphne constantly and told her private things about their relationship, because as much as Clara tried to be understanding, her heart was aching on the inside. She was only human after all.
Seger fastened his breeches while Clara arranged her skirts, then he rose and helped her to her feet. He pulled the leaves out of her hair.
As they mounted their horses, she thought about Seger coming there with Daphne, and how often he must have pulled leaves out of her hair. Clara imagined Seger making love to Daphne, telling her that he loved her, as he must have done hundreds of times.
He does not love me, at least not yet. Not like he loved her.
The thought came unbidden, made her stomach clench, but she forced herself to banish it.
Chapter 20
Dear Clara,
It sounds like he romanticizes his first love, and now you must compete with the ghost of a perfect woman. I hope he will eventually see how fortunate he is to have you, for I know how deeply you love him. Every man should be so lucky...
Adele
Clara was the one he wanted. Seger knew it with absolute firmness of mind when he climbed into bed with her that night.
Yes, he had thought of Daphne a number of times since he and Clara had arrived at Rawdon Hall, but the memories were distant. They were vague and seemed almost childish, for he had been a mere adolescent when he’d first met Daphne. He was only sixteen. He had fallen madly, hopelessly in love, but he was no longer that innocent, optimistic young boy. He had changed a great deal in the years since. He had lived a completely altered existence.
He wondered how he would feel about Daphne if he met her now, for the first time. He would probably not even notice her in a crowd of other women. He was far too experienced, or perhaps jaded was a better word.
“I enjoyed myself today,” Clara said sweetly as she inched down under the covers. “I love this house, Seger, and I love the countryside. I will look forward to returning here after the Season has ended.”
“As will I,” he replied with some surprise. He rolled on top of her, pressed his lips to her delicate mouth, and smiled. “Because this bed—with you in it—is like a little corner of heaven on earth.”
His “experience” had moved him to choose Clara out of an endless sea of eager, predatory females. Now, Clara was there with him, in the flesh. She was no ghost. Her patience and understanding—knowing that he was thinking of another woman from his past—only served to shore up his respect for her. She had understood the complexities of the situation—that he couldn’t help but think of Daphne after returning to Rawdon Hall for the first time since her death—yet Clara had been sympathetic and tolerant.
How could he not love her for that?
Seger kissed her with an unruly passion and helped her pull her nightdress over her head.
Seger did not mention Daphne again during the rest of their stay at Rawdon Hall, but Clara took note of the times he was quiet and melancholy and suspected that he was thinking of her.
Nevertheless, she enjoyed their private time together and felt that by being understanding and patient, she had gained Seger’s respect. They had, in fact, forged a closer bond.
Now, back in London and riding alone in the coach on her way home from a brief shopping excursion, Clara reflected on her marriage and began to believe that a deeper love between herself and her husband was indeed possible. Likely even, if they continued in the direction they were going. They had come forward a great distance since their wedding day. Seger had opened up to her completely at Rawdon Hall. He had held her tenderly in the night, and he had appreciated her understanding.
Clara sighed heavily as a wave of relief and contentment moved through her. She felt optimistic about her marriage now, for the very first time.
The coach stopped at an intersection, and without warning, her door opened, and a man stepped inside.
“Sir!” she shouted. “This is not a hackney cab! Get out please!”