would catch the Brighton line at the London Bridge station and take the train to the coast, then procure two tickets to cross the Channel to Dieppe. There, by God’s will, she would be able to purchase tickets on a passenger freighter before Fairfax discovered where they had gone.
And then she and Andrew would sail across the sea to where the vast wilderness of America would enclose them in long, sweeping arms and hide them forever.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. Something even beyond the catastrophic failure of their strategy.
Sebastian watched Clara as she entered the morning room, looking lovely with her hair gleaming in a smooth coil, her dark blue gown sprigged with flowers.
“Good morning.” She smiled at him and took her seat, arranging her skirts on the chair, her back stiff. She lifted her coffee cup to her lips, then set it back on the saucer with a rattle that betrayed the tremble of her hand.
Sebastian’s gaze narrowed. Hovering on the clouded edges of Fairfax’s threats, Clara had been unnaturally brittle since their confrontation with her father, as if she held herself together with only glue and string. Her observation of Andrew the previous day had further diminished her, casting a haunted shadow over her brilliant eyes.
What was she plotting?
The question slithered with unpleasant implications into his mind. He hated the idea that his own wife hadn’t told him the full truth yesterday of her attempt to see her son. Had she thought he’d try to prevent her from doing so?
“What are your plans for the day?” he asked in a conciliatory tone.
“Oh.” She swept a ribbon of hair away from her neck. “A visit to Uncle Granville, perhaps. I’ve been remiss in my duties at the museum, though I don’t imagine Mrs. Fox laments my absence.”
She picked at a muffin, leaving her plate littered with crumbs, then took a delicate swallow of coffee. “Are you going out? Do you have time to leave me at the museum?”
Sebastian nodded. “Will you try to see Andrew again today?”
Clara fumbled again in the movement of setting her cup on the saucer. The cup tipped, spilling a few drops of coffee onto the pristine tablecloth. “Oh! I’m so sorry.”
“Never mind.”
Clara grabbed a napkin and began pressing on the stains. “Silly of me, wasn’t it?”
“Clara, leave it.” With a mutter of irritation, Sebastian pushed his chair back and went to her side. He grasped her wrist to stop her ineffectual wiping. Her skin was cold, her pulse beating rapidly against his fingers.
“Clara.”
She turned to him, a faint wildness darkening her eyes to purple. “I’ll just finish getting ready then.”
“Will you try to see Andrew again today?” Sebastian repeated.
Her throat rippled with a swallow. She lowered her gaze from his and shook her head. “It was foolish of me to go yesterday. I’m afraid Fairfax will learn of my presence, so it’s best if I stay away.”
Sebastian tucked his forefinger beneath her chin and lifted her face. He searched her eyes for signs of deception and found none. He found nothing. A transparent shield permitted the colors of her eyes to gleam as vividly as ever, but it concealed the emotions usually storming in their depths.
He stepped away from her. Irritation flared. “All right, then. I’ll leave you at the museum before my appointment at the bank.”
“Don’t do anything foolish.” A plea threaded her words. “We’ll think of another arrangement, come to different terms.”
And yet they both knew Fairfax would accept no other terms. Clara swallowed. For an instant, fear shone in her expression.
“I don’t know how much time we have left,” she whispered.
Sebastian cupped her face with his left hand and willed her to believe his next words. “I will fix this, Clara. You must trust me.”
“But if we don’t have the resources to contest my father…”
Her words faded as the doorbell chimed to announce his brother’s arrival. Clara stepped away from him and turned to hurry upstairs.
Sebastian watched her go. The resolve that had taken root when he’d first learned of Clara’s dilemma now flourished into something permanent and unyielding.
He strode to the foyer as Giles opened the door to admit Darius.
“I’ve made the arrangements for your meeting with Catherine Leskovna,” Darius said as they entered the drawing room. “The day after tomorrow at the dining room of the Albion Hotel.”
Sebastian sighed. “I should never have agreed to help you find those bloody plans.”
“If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have met Clara,” Darius replied mildly.
Sebastian lifted his head to meet his brother’s keen