She swallowed.
‘I suppose,’ she said, pushing herself to her feet as slowly as she could, considering the fact that something was telling her she needed to get out of there while she still could, ‘I had better go.’
‘There is no need,’ said Clement, leaning back as though it was of no great importance to him either way. Only, he was tapping his forefinger on the arm of his chair, a sure sign he was nowhere near as calm as he looked.
‘No…but…’ She gave what she hoped was a resigned shrug.
‘You know how I feel about you consorting with that man. But since you clearly believe you are married to him—’
‘Yes,’ she said, seizing on the excuse he’d handed her. ‘I made vows in church and—’
‘Say no more.’ He flicked his hand in a contemptuous gesture of dismissal. ‘Just know that when you have repented of living as his whore, I shall be here to help you. Even should you find yourself with child…’ His gaze flicked to her belly.
She laid a hand over it, in an instinctively defensive manner. Help her? He didn’t want to help her. Or any child she might have. He wanted to…destroy her marriage, by the looks of it.
She stumbled to the door and out onto the cobbled street, putting up her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sunshine. And as she did so, it struck her that though the sunlight was half-blinding her, it wasn’t anywhere near strong enough to warm the coldness that was making her innards clench.
She’d only gone a few paces before she started to shiver. And her legs felt so unsteady that she wasn’t sure they’d carry her as far as the harbour. Though they had to. They had to.
Because if they didn’t, if she collapsed on the street and one of Clement’s…gang picked her up…they’d carry her back to him.
And she’d never see Rawcliffe again.
She just knew it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Clare drew on every scrap of control she could muster, stuck out her chin and made herself walk down the hill at a decorous pace. And when she reached the quayside, she allowed the captain to hand her into the boat, stepped carefully over to the cushions upon which Rawcliffe was lolling, his hat pulled over his eyes, sat down next to him and folded her hands in her lap.
He eyed her from under the rim of his hat with the cold expression he always adopted when trying to conceal what he was feeling. For once, it filled her with admiration. She’d never realised, until just now, how hard it was to prevent anyone knowing what you felt, or thought. And it was jolly hard work.
‘Enjoy your visit with your brother?’
‘Not really. And I am sorry, since you went to so much trouble to arrange it, but—’ she spread her hands in a gesture of exasperation ‘—that is Clement for you.’
‘What it Clement, exactly?’
‘Impossible! He—’ She broke off, glancing at the captain and his lad.
‘They cannot hear us,’ said Rawcliffe, sitting up and setting his hat to the correct angle. ‘Besides which they are too busy concentrating on steering this craft out of the cove, without running on to any of the hidden rocks which present such a danger to the unwary.’
‘Really.’ He had clearly spent his time, while she had been enduring that painful interview with her brother, chatting with the crew about the nature of the cove.
‘Yes. Besides—’
‘Another besides?’
‘Yes,’ he said firmly. ‘I need to know what he said to upset you so.’
She ground her teeth. Where to begin?
‘Well, to start with, he tried to have me doubt the legality of our marriage.’
Rawcliffe stiffened. But before he could say anything, she carried on. ‘Which is perfectly absurd. Because if you have made me go through some kind of bogus ceremony, then so have Lord Becconsall and Lady Harriet, who stood up before the same officiant in the same church. And the prospect of him tricking Lady Harriet is…ridiculous.’
‘But not the thought I tricked you?’ He spoke with such coldness that if she hadn’t been so furious she might have tried to appease him. But her blood was up.
‘Don’t be absurd. The chances of a spate of fake marriages breaking out amongst the ranks of the ton is so unlikely it is laughable! Why would you all suddenly decide you want to live in sin, unless it is so that you can get rid of your wives at some later date, without having the bother of pushing a bill of divorce through Parliament?’