He grasped Clara’s waist, ignored the seizing of his hand, and lowered his head to kiss her. Her soft gasp slipped into his mouth, but her body curved against his as naturally as a leaf bows to a breeze. She parted her lips and smoothed her hands over his jaw and into his hair.
“I love you,” Sebastian whispered against her mouth. “If you will but trust me, I will not fail you.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks, salty against her lips. Sebastian brushed them away with his thumb and lifted his head. Though Clara might be correct that the core of his being remained the same, Sebastian knew he had irrevocably changed, and not solely due to the loss of his hand.
He had changed because of Clara, because she had shown him how to reshape desperation and use it as fuel. Because she, too, knew the black despair of having something taken away, and yet she had never wavered in her efforts to get Andrew back. If she would not waver, then neither would he.
“Your father is still in financial straits,” he said. “And while we cannot rely on Rushton’s help, I’m certain Alexander will give us whatever we need to appease him.”
Clara shook her head. “It isn’t about money, Sebastian. If it was, Fairfax would have made an explicit demand when we spoke with him about Wakefield House. I’m certain he would take whatever you offered, but I fear nothing will make him relinquish custody of Andrew.”
“Yet it also isn’t a question of Fairfax wanting to raise Andrew himself, is it? If it were, he wouldn’t send the boy away for medical care. I don’t imagine he would stay with Andrew in Switzerland, do you?”
“No.” Clara bit her bottom lip. “He never thought Andrew would amount to anything, Sebastian.”
So what else was there? Sebastian had the nagging sense that they were missing something important, and yet he had no idea what it was. On the surface, Fairfax was a grandfather committed to retaining custody of his grandson and putting him under the care of a physician.
Maybe the answer lay with the physician and the institution…if Fairfax chose not to stay with Andrew, which seemed likely, then Sebastian and Clara might have a chance to see the boy while he was under medical care. Fairfax would probably make arrangements to bar them from the institution as well, but money could work to unlock those doors.
And Sebastian would tell Alexander everything that had happened, if it would mean his brother’s financial support. Alexander would be furious over the revelations about Catherine Leskovna and might very well renounce both Darius and Sebastian for having associated with her again, but he would help give Clara the opportunity to see her son.
“I have an idea.” Sebastian gripped Clara’s shoulders, felt hope flow through him in a wave of sky blue. “Will you trust me?”
“I do trust you.” Her gaze searched his, her violet eyes filled with a mixture of warmth and sorrow. “And you have already proven your love for me. Now you must give me the chance to do the same.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Andrew did not want to return to London with his grandfather. That much was clear. Rushton watched as the boy all but cowered against the side of the railway car as they made their way back to the city. He looked at Fairfax.
“What was this talk about an institution?” he asked.
“Andrew has refused to speak since his father’s death,” Fairfax replied. “Several doctors have recommended I consult a Swiss physician who can help determine the cause of his affliction. I intend to leave Andrew with him until he is cured.”
“You’ve no idea how long that will take,” Rushton said. Unease laced through him as he glanced at Andrew again. If Fairfax abused the boy, then one would think Andrew might be relieved at the opportunity to get away from him. Then again, he’d have to consider an institution and a physician as the lesser of two evils.
“It does not matter how long it takes,” Fairfax replied. “As long as Andrew is well cared for and cured.”
“So your plan is to leave him in Switzerland while you return to London?” Rushton asked.
“Not London. I shall return to Manley Park for the remainder of the year.”
Rushton narrowed his eyes. His unease intensified, alongside the growing sense that Fairfax was leaving something out of his story, some vital piece that might prove illuminating.
“If you don’t mind my asking, Fairfax,” he said, keeping his tone