“I saw your father not three weeks ago at a steeplechase. Visited Manley Park recently, have you?”
“No…no, not for some time, my lord.” She paused, glanced at Rushton, then back to Margrave. “Have you been to Manley Park, my lord?”
“This past summer, yes,” Margrave replied. “Your father invited Lady Margrave and myself for a Saturday to Monday visit. He’s procured a very impressive stud-horse.”
“I’ve heard, yes.” Tension threaded her voice. “Was Andrew Winter present, my lord?”
Sebastian saw a slight frown tug at Rushton’s mouth, but the implications of the question appeared lost on Margrave.
“No, no, didn’t see him, unfortunately. Fairfax said the boy wasn’t well.” Margrave shook his head. “He’s back in London now, I think, Fairfax is. Must speak to him about the railway investments he was considering. Might have brought the boy along. Beg your pardon, there’s Lord Crombie. Rushton, I’ll see you at the club, yes?”
Clara took a step back, her skin white as paper. Margrave bid them a good evening and pushed through the crowd.
“Well, Mrs. Winter, if your father is in town, I’d be pleased to make his acquaintance,” Rushton remarked.
Sebastian slipped his hand beneath Clara’s elbow.
“Clara?”
“Excuse me. I…I need some air.” She pulled from his grip and hurried toward the doors leading to the street.
Sebastian and Rushton exchanged glances before Sebastian went after her. He caught her on the steps, reaching out with his right hand to grasp her arm. Momentarily startled, he watched his hand obey his instinctive command to draw her to a halt.
She spun around. “What? What?”
Sebastian cupped her cheek with his other hand, easing her face upward to look at him. “Why are you so afraid of your father?”
“He has my son, Sebastian. And if he comes to London, he won’t allow me to see Andrew.” She pressed her hands to her face and closed her eyes. “Lord Margrave said Andrew wasn’t well. What does that mean? What’s wrong with him?”
She shivered, hugging her arms around herself. Sebastian removed his coat and slipped it around her shoulders as protection against the cold night air.
Help her.
The command fell through his mind like a stone into a lake, expanding outward in foaming waves. He slipped his hand to her neck. Her pulse beat strong and rapid. He eased his thumb to touch the soft, vulnerable hollow just beneath her jaw. He wanted to remove his glove, feel the softness of her skin against his thumb.
She still hadn’t told him everything. He’d sensed it when she’d first proposed, but he had told himself it didn’t matter, since the marriage would fulfill their practical goals. Now, seeing the distress written so plainly across Clara’s face, Sebastian wanted her to trust him enough to confide in him.
“Have you tried to see Andrew in Surrey?” he asked.
Clara shook her head. “Fairfax has banned me from Manley Park.”
“Why?” He wound a lock of her hair around his forefinger. “Why is your father so vehement about keeping Andrew from you?”
Clara’s eyes skidded to meet his. A dark red bloomed in their depths, like the molten heat of an incipient volcano. When she spoke, her voice was even, cold as glass in winter and edged with black.
“Because he thinks I killed my husband.”
Sebastian recoiled in shock. A thousand years passed in the instant between her utterance of the dark confession and his absorption of her words. He stared at her, knowing the falsity of such an accusation and yet unable to fathom the reason for its very existence.
“It’s why I was forced to leave,” Clara said. “Richard and I had argued about Andrew accompanying them on a hunting excursion. I didn’t want Andrew to go because the weather looked threatening, but Richard insisted. I accompanied them because I thought I could at least return to the house with Andrew if a storm approached.
“We were gone for an hour when I realized Andrew had forgotten his satchel. I went back for it, and when I returned I found Richard had fallen from his horse and hit his head. He was still breathing, but…”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She looked away, the burn of despair darkening. “Neither my father nor Andrew was there. I didn’t know what had happened. I started shouting Andrew’s name, which is how my father found me. I don’t know what he thought at that moment, but he hauled Richard’s body onto his horse and rode back to the house to send for the constable. I think by the time he arrived at home, he’d already decided