A Passion For Pleasure by Nina Rowan

Clara?
    After so many months of feeling as if circumstances had been forced upon him—the infirmity and resignation, the failure of the surgery, the position with the Patent Office, Rushton’s ultimatum—Sebastian welcomed the idea that he had chosen to confide in Clara.
    “She has no idea where the plans are,” he told Darius. “Or even if her uncle has them.”
    “Yet it won’t be a hardship for you to continue searching.” Darius removed a folded note from his pocket. “Contact me here when you find them. I’ll need them by the middle of next week, and I promise to compensate you handsomely.”
    “Why next week?”
    “The Home Office has already appointed members for a select committee on wartime correspondence,” Darius explained. “If I can secure the funds, I want to construct the machine before their next meeting. First, however, I need to analyze the plans and determine if construction is even possible.” He extended the note to Sebastian. “It’s an important machine, Bastian, one that might prove extraordinarily effective in both war and as part of telegraph and railway systems. That is precisely why Jacques Dupree wanted to ensure its secrecy.”
    Sebastian took the note. Suspicion flared beneath his heart, adding fuel to the fire that had burned since he’d received Darius’s initial letter. Never had he been given cause to suspect one of his brothers of malice, but Darius’s evasiveness left too many unanswered questions.
    Then again, Sebastian hadn’t been truthful of late either.
    He sighed. Since their parents’ divorce, secrets had begun to spear through his relationships with his brothers, cracking walls that had once seemed indestructible.
    He turned away from Darius, trying to smother his suspicions. He’d never have even felt suspicious of his own brother had it not been for their mother’s betrayal. She’d been the one to incite doubts in all of them, for if the Countess of Rushton, the very epitome of the haut ton, could conceal such a reprehensible secret, were not the rest of the Halls capable of hiding secrets?
    None of them had talked much about the former countess. Though Sebastian knew that Alexander and Talia had renounced all mention of their mother, he’d had little opportunity to learn Darius’s thoughts on the matter.
    Then again, discerning Darius’s thoughts was like attempting to read and understand the Rosetta stone.
    Sebastian shook his head as a humorless laugh stuck in his throat. God in heaven. The rest of the world was done with it. His brothers and sister were done with it. What would it take for Sebastian to bury the past?

Chapter Five
    C lara stared at herself in the mirror. The bodice of her merino gown enclosed her curves in a close embrace, then cascaded over a wide crinoline. Mrs. Marshall had proven her skill with a comb by arranging Clara’s hair in a smooth chignon softened by tendrils that curled over her bare neck. Jet earrings matched the brooch pinned to her collar.
    She looked well, but her expression betrayed her nerves—her eyes dark, her jaw tight with tension, her skin pale as milk.
    She smoothed her skirts and turned to go downstairs. The sound of the doorbell rang faintly in her good ear. Her stomach jumped. She stopped in the corridor, out of sight, as Mrs. Marshall opened the door to admit their visitor.
    Sebastian’s deep voice rumbled from the foyer as he greeted the housekeeper. Clara strained to hear.
    “Lovely day out, Mrs. Marshall,” Sebastian said. “I suggest you pay a visit to the park if you’ve got a moment.” He paused, apparently to remove his greatcoat and hat. “Is that your exquisite apple cake I smell? I hope I’m fortunate enough to be offered a piece.”
    A teasing lilt in his deep tone had Clara pressing a hand to her chest, the thump of her heart like a bird’s wing against her palm.
    Such a thing of beauty was the man’s voice, especially when edged with that beguiling note that spoke of pleasure.