A Passion for Pleasure - By Nina Rowan Page 0,89

key. The instruction came back to him with surprising ease, and a distinct pleasure wound through him when Andrew played the first line correctly.

“Good.” Sebastian straightened, glancing at the boy’s face. “Did your grandfather provide any music lessons for you?”

Andrew shook his head and concentrated on pressing the G key. He looked toward the door as Clara entered. She paused a short distance from the piano, a shadow of uncertainty passing across her features. Sebastian flexed his fingers and tried to temper the anger toward her that had smoldered inside him for the past day.

“Andrew, would you like to see the conservatory?” Clara asked.

Andrew shook his head, his attention on the piano keys. Clara twisted her fingers into the folds of her skirt.

“There’s also a library at the other end of the manor,” she continued. “I’m certain Mr. Hall won’t mind if we borrow some books to read.”

Andrew didn’t respond. Clara bit her lip, her uncertainty darkening into outright worry. Sebastian tried to deflect the sympathy that lanced through him and turned back to the boy.

“Andrew, while we wait for Mrs. Danvers to prepare breakfast, I’ll show you the river where my brothers and I used to fish,” he said.

Andrew pressed his fingers onto the keys again, then pushed to his feet and turned toward the door.

“I’ll stay with him,” Sebastian told Clara.

He let the boy precede him to the gardens, then followed along the wet flagstone paths winding around the flower beds where a few late roses still bloomed.

Rather than ask questions that might not provoke a response, Sebastian merely talked—telling Andrew about the summer days he spent here with his brothers and sister, the hoop races they’d had on the grassy inclines, the trees they’d climbed. He pointed out the stables, the road to the village, the field where they’d practiced archery.

Andrew didn’t offer any comment, though he appeared to be listening. Sebastian wondered if the boy was unable to speak or chose not to. Either way, this was likely the affliction that had prompted Fairfax to seek a physician.

By the time they returned to the house, Mrs. Danvers had organized a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast. After eating in silence, Andrew went out to the garden again, with an admonition from Clara not to wander too far.

She looked at Sebastian, her face pale in a stream of morning sunlight. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t tell her it didn’t matter. His right hand clenched inside his pocket.

“Did you think I wouldn’t help you?” he asked, his voice tight. Did you think me incapable of it?

“I was trying to protect you.”

“How is running away protecting me?”

“My father threatened to spread rumors that I was responsible for Richard’s death. I hoped that if I left, he would turn his attention to me and leave your family alone.”

“He could never prove you had anything to do with Richard’s death.”

“No one else knows that, do they?” Her voice stretched thin as she stood and paced to the hearth. “Why wouldn’t they believe Lord Fairfax, who was so close to his son-in-law and who has been such a dedicated grandfather? What possible recourse do I have against such an accusation?”

“I am your recourse, Clara,” Sebastian snapped. “Why didn’t you trust me when I said I would help you?”

She whirled to face him. “I did trust you!”

“If you had, you wouldn’t have gone to my father.”

“I didn’t go to him, Sebastian,” Clara said, spreading her hands in desperation. “He came to the museum to ask about my estrangement from Fairfax, and I…my plans had been thwarted because of the rain. When Lord Rushton started questioning me, I realized he is the only person I know who is more powerful than my father. If he couldn’t help me, who could?”

“I could.”

“We had no time left, Sebastian. If Fairfax had taken Andrew away again, to an institution no less, what could either of us have done?”

“So you found it necessary to tell Rushton about my mother.” Sebastian’s jaw clenched to the point of pain. “And my hand.”

Clara pressed her palms to her flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Why did you tell him?”

“Because I was scared! What if Fairfax made good on his threat? When your father spoke of associating with him, I had to warn him that Fairfax might attempt to spread lies about me. I hoped that if I were honest with Lord Rushton about everything, he would prove to be my ally instead.”

“Yet you gave no thought to the effects of such a revelation.”

Despair rose to

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