repeated to herself so often, the phrase whose truth lodged like a burr in her chest.
“Nothing for me was easy with my father.”
“What happened?”
“Richard died after being thrown from his horse while out riding.” Her eyes stung. “I was shocked to learn that he had designated my father as Andrew’s guardian. When I resisted my father’s rules, he threatened to send me away to America. I left Manley Park before he could.
“I arrived here at my uncle’s determined to find a way to regain custody of Andrew. All my and Uncle Granville’s efforts have come to naught. We attempted to try to sell Wakefield House in the hopes of appeasing my father, but by the terms of the trust and inheritance, I’m unable to do so.
“However”—she inhaled a hard breath—“if I were to marry again, the house would transfer into my husband’s name and he would be allowed to sell it.”
For a moment that seemed to stretch forever, Sebastian looked at her. A swath of hair fell across his forehead, almost into his eyes. Clara was seized by the urge to brush away the thick strands, to tunnel her fingers into the dark mass of his hair.
She clenched her fists tighter.
“So,” Sebastian finally said. “You want to marry me so I can give Wakefield House to your father.”
He spoke with a straightforwardness that made Clara jerk her gaze to his. Perhaps she needn’t have rehearsed her speech after all.
“I’ve one thing to offer you in exchange,” she said.
His brows rose as he waited for her to continue.
“The plans for the cipher machine you seek.”
Sebastian’s breath hissed out in a rush. “You told me you’ve no knowledge of it.”
“I didn’t. I still don’t. But before his death, Jacques Dupree sent my uncle numerous crates and boxes of machinery and plans. His son sent even more after Monsieur Dupree died. It’s entirely possible the cipher machine plans are among those possessions. If so, I will find them.”
“And if they aren’t there?”
“Then you are free to terminate our agreement.” Clara spoke with a bravado she didn’t feel. She spread her hands, glad that the tremors in them had eased. “Have you anything to lose?”
Except your freedom?
Sebastian didn’t speak, didn’t turn his gaze from her face.
He hadn’t rejected her. The realization shone like sunlight through her fog of anger and despair. She clung to that thread of hope and used it to force down the rage, to prevent it from boiling into her blood.
“I ask…no, I beg for your help in getting Andrew back,” Clara said, hating the desperate note in her voice. “I have no claim to him, Sebastian. My father is his sole and legal guardian.” She paused for breath. “Wakefield House is the only asset I have, and it’s one that my father wants. If I can offer it to him through you, I have a chance of getting my son back.”
Sebastian rubbed his right hand with his left, a movement that appeared unconscious. Clara watched him for a moment before he stopped and pushed his hand into his pocket abruptly. “Have you gone to the courts to seek custody of your son?”
“I considered it, but the risk is too great. It would be scandalous for my father’s reputation, not to mention my own, regardless of the outcome. We might not be a well-connected family, but gossip has never surrounded us. I certainly cannot cause any now.”
She drew in a ragged breath. The misshapen difference between society’s view of her life and the brutal reality still had the power to unnerve her, even as she recognized her good fortune in the distortion. If her behavior had caused scandal to erupt in Fairfax’s domain, Andrew would truly be lost to her forever.
“Not even my falling-out with my father caused a whisper in society,” she admitted. “Ask anyone of consequence in Surrey and you’ll hear of my husband’s tragic accident, how brilliant he would have been had he been elected to Parliament, how magnanimous my father was in taking him under his wing, and how devastated he was to have lost the young man he’d considered his second son. You’ll hear how my father dotes upon his grandson, and how fortunate Andrew is to have such a devoted grandfather.”
Clara stopped, shocked by the bitterness discoloring her voice. She turned her back to Sebastian and stepped to the windows, fighting to calm her inner turmoil.
A lengthy silence stretched, almost vibrating with tension.
“And you?” His deep voice was close. Too close. Clara could almost feel