part to satisfy his father’s ultimatum.
“I believe Lord Rushton capable of such an ultimatum,” Catherine said. “But Sebastian would not have agreed to marry you had he not wanted to, regardless of Rushton’s threats. I hope you know that.”
Clara did. She’d known the moment Sebastian told her their union would be both real and permanent. And in a very secret corner of her heart, Clara had wanted that too.
“Have you asked for Rushton’s assistance in the matter with your father?” Catherine asked.
“No. Sebastian would not hear of it.”
“No, I imagine he wouldn’t.” A crease marred Catherine’s forehead. “I wish I could offer you advice or assistance, but I’ve lost whatever connections I possessed in London. And I don’t dare contact anyone lest I cause trouble for Darius. I owe him a great deal.”
“When Darius told us the true reason for his return to London, I attempted to convince Sebastian to agree to meet you,” Clara admitted. “Although I know very little about what happened, I do believe he should not deny you the opportunity to explain.”
Clara realized that her wish extended beyond the fact that Catherine was Sebastian’s mother. Clara herself knew well what it felt like to have one’s efforts at reconciliation thwarted, and she did not want that pain for Catherine Leskovna. Questionable though Catherine’s choices might have been, her feelings for her children were genuine.
“I am extraordinarily grateful to you, then.” Catherine set down her teacup and rose. Such calm infused her gestures, even the air around her. Despite the turmoil Catherine Leskovna had both caused and sustained, she appeared unrepentant, as if something had soothed the sting of her deceit.
Clara wondered what it was. And she wondered if she would ever know that kind of peace following the storms that had battered her over the past year.
Catherine approached to take Clara’s hand. A kind smile curved her lips. “Darius believes you are a good match for Sebastian. I must say I agree with him. Your mother would be proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Clara tightened her hand on the other woman’s. Her mother would not have censured Catherine without having known the truth of the rumors, and so Clara would not either. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”
Catherine smiled. “I do know.”
Sebastian pushed his right hand into his pocket and watched his father clip dead leaves from a plant. The humid, musty air of the greenhouse filled his nose with the smells of damp soil and moss. Flowers flourished throughout the glass-encased house—asters, roses, lilacs. Only here among his plants did Rushton ever seem relaxed, at his ease. Elsewhere, the earl still wore an air of caution, as if he knew the restoration of his family’s standing remained somewhat fragile.
“Bastian, stir the soil in those pots, would you?” Rushton nodded toward a row of Botany Bay plants lined up on a shelf. “Just the surface. And open the window sashes to let some air in.”
Sebastian picked up a trowel and proceeded to dig into the pots. For a few moments, they worked in silence before Rushton set down his clippers and wiped his hands on his apron.
“She’s not what I’d expected,” he finally said, “but she is suitable enough and appears to be very well mannered.”
Sebastian almost smiled.
“She is suitable indeed,” he agreed.
Rushton picked up a water syringe and began misting the plants. “I understand her father is visiting town. Thought I would invite him to dine one evening.”
Sebastian turned away so Rushton wouldn’t see the tightening of his expression. Two days hence, he and Clara would approach Fairfax with the completed proposition about Wakefield House. Then they would know if she would finally have Andrew back.
“I’ve explained that Clara and her father are estranged,” he told his father.
“Still, it would be in good form if I were to introduce myself to Fairfax. And bring Mrs. Hall for tea one day soon,” Rushton suggested. “Her uncle, too. I’d be interested to speak with him more about his rather unusual creations.”
“I’m certain he would be pleased to accept.”
“You ought to tell Darius about his inventions as well.” Rushton began putting the tools away. “Have you written to him and Alexander with the news of your marriage?”
“I intend to do so later this week.” The lie stuck in his throat, for he could not tell Alexander anything until he had settled the matter of Clara’s son.
And he knew Darius had not told their father he was back in London. The secrecy of his brother’s presence, not