“I am,” she said, marveling at the sound and the power of the two small words. “I am.”
“That you are,” he said, smiling. “You are Serena Fitzroy, and I’m honored to have you as my wife.”
He’d intended to kiss her then, but she kissed him first, arching up to capture his mouth for herself. It was sweet and sensual, the way kissing her always was, but this time it was more than that. It was a pledge, a trust, a promise for their future together, and he loved her more in that moment than he’d ever thought possible.
“What is it, Colburn?” Father said behind them.
Lost in the moment, Geoffrey had forgotten that his father and Celia were in the room with them, and reluctantly he turned back toward them, his arm still around Serena’s waist. His butler was standing there at the door, and as practiced as Colburn was at revealing little, his entire posture couldn’t help but betray anxiety.
“Forgive me for interrupting, Your Grace, my lord,” he said. “But Lord Radnor and his party are here. His lordship says he knows you are at home, and he will remain until he is seen.”
“Blast Radnor,” Geoffrey said. It was exactly like Radnor to reappear now, at this inopportune moment, trailing his trumped-up Scottish officer as a witness and his jackanapes of a lawyer. “He has no decent business being in this house, and he can wait until Hell turns to ice for all I care.”
“I will see him,” Serena said. “Show my uncle here, Colburn.”
“That is not necessary, my dear,” Father said quickly. “Let him challenge you in a court of law if he chooses, but not in your own drawing room.”
“Forgive me, Brecon,” she said, “but if I end this now, I will never need face him again.”
There was a steely resolve in her voice that Geoffrey hadn’t heard before, nor expected. Her earlier forlorn uncertainty had vanished, and she now had the expression of a female warrior ready for battle, her golden eyes flashing.
“You are certain of this?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.
“Entirely,” she said. “My uncle has brought a man that he believes will discredit me as a lowborn, foreign imposter. You have reminded me of whom I have become, Geoffrey, and how no one else can make me into something I’m not unless I let them. When they enter this room, they will see only what I am: an unimpeachable English lady, surrounded by my family.”
Geoffrey smiled, and bent to quickly kiss her again. He motioned to the butler to have Radnor and the others join them as Serena took her seat beside the tea table. She sat with even more grace than usual, her silk skirts arranged elegantly over her legs and her body turned the exact degree to display both her posture and her figure. She sipped her tea, the translucent porcelain cup in one hand and the dish in the other, with the perfect precision of both art and nourishment.
Most of all, she managed to compose her face to be welcoming yet reserved, pleasant but distant, exactly what was expected of an English lady of rank. It was the same face with which Serena had greeted him on the night they’d met, and Geoffrey realized how very far they’d come together since then.
He returned to stand behind her chair, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder, and she smiled up at him. He’d follow her wishes and not interfere, but at the first sign of difficulty from her uncle he would be ready to step in and defend her.
Yet as soon as the door opened and her uncle entered the room, he felt her shoulder tense beneath his hand, and he wondered if this idea of hers truly was such a good one.
Serena wondered as well. She hadn’t thought her uncle could still have an effect on her, especially not with Geoffrey beside her. She’d believed she was brave enough to confront Uncle Radnor like this, and put an end to his plots against her once and for all. She needed to be that brave, or else she’d let him haunt her for the rest of her life—and that she was determined not to do.
But the moment her uncle entered the room, her resolve faltered, and her courage with it. How had she forgotten the contempt and dislike that was always in his eyes when he regarded her, as if she were some offensive scrap of nothingness that must be crushed and swept from sight?
“Be brave, love,” Geoffrey whispered beside her, under his breath, for only her to hear. “Remember who you are.”
She nodded imperceptibly. That was the key, to remember who she was. She wasn’t the sickly, terrified orphan-girl that he’d bullied so easily when she’d first come from India, though that girl had helped mold her into the woman she was now. For the sake of that lost girl, she would be strong now, and she would triumph.
His face flushed as soon as he saw she was not alone, with both the duke and duchess as well as Geoffrey to support her. Displeasure flickered through his eyes, but he recovered quickly, smiling as he bowed to each of them in turn and ending before Serena.
“Good day, niece,” he said. “I am pleased to see you looking so well. The married state must agree with you.”
“Good day, Uncle,” she said. His smile reminded her of a jackal’s, false and cunning. Without looking, she reached her hand back and rested it over Geoffrey’s on her shoulder. “Thank you, yes. I have never been happier, nor more content.”
She glanced past him to the footmen who stood near the door, motioning for them to bring chairs from along the walls of the room for her uncle and the other four men. The very presence of these four—the same four that had so frightened her when she’d spied them from the window—was awkward and unwelcome and humiliating, which was likely what her uncle had intended. The officer in his scarlet coat was at least a gentleman, but the lawyer, legal clerk and constable were not. They’d no place in a lady’s drawing room and especially not in the company of her ducal in-laws.
But she was able to pay him back in a similar fashion. The chairs occupied by the duke and duchess were mahogany armchairs with silk-worked cushions, while the ones for her uncle and the others were plain and straight-backed: a subtle difference, and a proper one under the circumstances. If Radnor had in fact been a favorite relative, he would have received an armchair as well, and he knew it, too, his face clouding with displeasure.
The lawyer’s clerk made a great show of opening his letter case and producing paper and stylus, poised to take down everything that was said, and the constable, too, sat on the edge of his chair with his tipstaff leaning against his knee, much like a hunting dog that’s scented prey and is waiting to be released. The officer stood behind her uncle, his face still hidden from her.
“You have called with a purpose, Uncle?” she said once they all were settled. “You have a reason for bringing this—this party into my home?”
“I have,” he said, smiling that jackal smile again. “As I have told you before, I thought it a great pity that you should marry without any members of your poor, late mother’s family in attendance, or even aware of your marriage. Thus I discovered your mother’s only brother, and he is as eager to meet you as you must be him.”
“Indeed,” she murmured, her heart racing even as she told herself the man was likely an imposter. “Shall you make the introductions, Uncle?”
“I am remiss,” he said, pointedly taking his time as he turned back toward the duke. “Your Grace, may I present Major Andrew Dalton of the 2nd Battalion of the 73rd Foot?”
His introductions continued, but as Major Dalton stepped forward to bow to her, his black cocked hat tucked tidily beneath his arm, she stopped hearing her uncle, and perhaps she stopped breathing as well.
The face of the thickset man before her was weathered and lined from a lifetime of harsh conditions, his yellow-blond hair streaked with gray and his eyes a pale and faded blue. Yet the resemblance between this man and her sister, Asha, was so striking that she couldn’t keep back a little cry, her hand flying to her mouth with shock.
Quickly Geoffrey bent beside her. “Are you all right? If this is too much for you to bear, then—”
“No,” she said as firmly as she could. She’d convinced herself that the man couldn
’t possibly be Asha’s real uncle, that he was sure to be a false contrivance, and yet one look at his face, and she’d no doubt that he was in fact Major Dalton. He was exactly the man her uncle claimed him to be, exactly the man who could drag her and Geoffrey and the rest of the Fitzroys into a bitter court battle over her inheritance. The major must already see that there was no resemblance between her and the rest of his family. How, really, could he not? “I am … surprised, that is all.”
“Pray forgive me, Lady Geoffrey,” the major said with gruff contrition. “I’ve no wish to distress you.”
“You heard my niece, Dalton,” Radnor said with a misplaced heartiness. He nodded at the lawyer, indicating that he should pay extra attention to what followed. “She’s fine enough. You startled her, and little wonder, if you’re long-separated family.”
The major shook his head even as he continued to study Serena, running his fingers lightly around the brim of his hat.
“It has been a considerable time since I saw my poor sister, my lord,” he said, hedging. “At least twenty years, and likely more. She was newly wed to Lord Thomas, and residing with him in Calcutta.”
“That was before I was born, Major Dalton,” Serena said, striving to regain her composure. She must remember who she had become, not who she had been born, exactly as Geoffrey had told her, and as if he could read her thoughts, he gave her shoulder a small pat of encouragement. If she wished Major Dalton to believe who she was, then she must first believe it herself.
“At that time, my father still maintained his commission with the East India Company,” she continued. “It was not until after my mother died that he resigned, and moved to the neighborhood of Hyderabad.”
“He knows that already, niece,” Radnor said impatiently. “We all know that.”
She turned her face toward her uncle, keeping her head straight and her features composed. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her.
“Forgive me, Uncle.” No matter how she tried, she was unable to keep the tension from her voice. There was simply too much at stake. “But I believed this to be a conversation, not an interrogation.”
She heard the duke make a small cough of amusement behind her, a response her uncle did not share.
“You know perfectly well why this gentleman is here, Serena,” he said, his irritation clear. “Yes, he has come to see you as a member of his family, but he is also here to answer the question of who exactly you are.”
“She is my wife,” Geoffrey said sharply, and at once Serena pressed her hand over his, silently begging him not to challenge her uncle.
“Lord Geoffrey is right.” After so many lies, she was determined now to speak only the truth, and she chose her words slowly and with great care. “I am his wife, Lady Geoffrey, Uncle. To you and others in our family, I am Serena Carew Fitzroy.”
“But if Major Dalton tells us otherwise, then it will most certainly matter,” Radnor declared. “Then you are guilty of fraud, and malicious deception, and thievery, too, as these two men will attest before a court of law.”
“Mind what you say to my wife, Radnor,” Geoffrey began again, and again Serena pressed her hand over his.
“While I welcome Major Dalton as a member of our family, Uncle,” she said, “I do not see how the opinion of anyone else should be held against me, or used to defame me in this manner.”
“Damnation, Serena, all of London speaks of it!” her uncle said, swinging his fist through the air as his resentment finally spilled over. “Everyone believes you are an imposter, foisted upon my family by my scoundrel of a brother to deprive the Carews of the fortune that by all rights belongs to us, not to you—you damnable Fitzroys!”
Serena gasped, and beside her Geoffrey swore, and she twisted in her chair, desperate to keep him from lunging at Radnor. The duke had risen to his feet, as ready as Geoffrey for a brawl, and around them the footmen were waiting only for an order to charge into whatever happened next.
And none of this was what she wanted, not at all.
She clambered to her feet, forgetting all her resolutions to be genteel and demure, and pushed herself between her uncle and her husband.
“No more of this, Uncle,” she ordered breathlessly, her hands outstretched. “No more of any of this!”
“Step aside, Serena,” Radnor said brusquely. “I won’t have your interference in this.”
He put his hand out to shove her aside, but before he could, the major deftly seized her uncle’s arm and twisted it behind his back.
“Forgive me, my lord,” he said. “But I cannot stand here and let you attack this lady with no reason beyond your own greed and malice.”
Furious, Radnor struggled to break free. “How dare you handle me in this fashion!” he sputtered. “I will see you broken, sir, and stripped of your commission for daring to treat me like this! You there, Constable. Act as my witness. Mark how I am being abused!”
The constable stood with his tipstaff ready in his hand as if longing to strike Radnor with it. “What I see, my lord, is how this officer has defended her ladyship against your unwarranted attack.”
“No!” Radnor raged. “Dalton, you promised that you’d swear she was a lying little chit. You promised you’d swear against her, as is only right.”
“What I promised, my lord, is that I would swear to the truth,” the major said curtly, “and what you desire me to say has not a speck of truth to it.”
He gave Radnor a final shake, then let him go. Radnor scuttled out of reach, breathing hard.
“You cannot believe that she is one of us,” he demanded hoarsely. “You cannot swear that she is anything but a false pretender!”
“I can, my lord,” the major said curtly, “and I will. In her ladyship I recognize every grace and virtue that my dear sister possessed. I am honored to be her ladyship’s uncle, my lord, and it will give me the greatest pleasure to testify to that effect in any court of this land.”
Serena caught her breath, stunned. This man that she’d only just met was choosing to be her uncle, with kindness and regard that her real uncle had never once shown her.
“Damn you, Dalton,” Radnor growled. “This isn’t over.”
“But it is,” Geoffrey said, his voice so taut with anger that Serena pressed back against him. “Your attacks end here, in this room.”
She’d never seen the kind of fury that flooded her uncle’s face. “Then damn you, too, Fitzroy! Damn you and your bitch of a wife!”
“Go,” Serena said, her voice slicing through the hostility that filled the room. “Go. Your lies and hatred have no place in my home, or in my life. Go, and never, ever return.”
He stared at her, his eyes red-rimmed and his mouth working with impotent rage. Somehow, she did not flinch or look away, but met his gaze. She would be brave; she wouldn’t back down.
And at last, she won. Radnor snatched up his hat from his chair, and stormed from the room, and as soon as he was gone, she felt all the tension in her body rush away in a wave. Her knees buckled beneath her and she swayed forward, only to have Geoffrey gather her in his arms and hold her tight, his strength all that she needed.
“It’s done,” he whispered. “It’s done.”
LONDON
July 1772
The celebrations at the Royal Hall for Foundling Girls could not have gone any better. The new lodgings had been dedicated and pronounced a great improvement, stirring anthems had been played by a brass consort, and many toasts drunk by the ladies and gentlemen and sundry dignitaries who had joined the directors in marking the auspicious day. As the late afternoon sunshine began to slip over the Hall’s tall brick walls, the children who had been on such good behavior throughout the ceremonies had at last been freed to play, and they darted across the lawn in their bright blue petticoats with white aprons and caps, laughing and shouting in playful abandon.
For Serena, it was the best sight of the day, far better than all the weighty speeches and toasts and self-satisfied dignitaries. She couldn
’t help but smile as she stood watching from the Hall’s front steps, her hand firmly tucked into the crook of Geoffrey’s arm.
“This is why I did it,” she said proudly. “So that these girls may be as lighthearted as children should be, and not need to worry about which alley doorway will be their bed tonight, or who will prey upon them, or what they must do to earn their bread. They’re safe here, Geoffrey, where none of the evil of the streets can touch them. It’s only a start, to be sure, but a start nonetheless.”
“It’s a very large start,” he said, smiling at her instead of the children. “Your gift is the greatest the Hall has ever received. Not even Her Majesty has been as generous.”
“I have a special interest in these girls,” she said, knowing he’d understand in a way that no one else would.
As soon as it was clear last year that her uncle, Radnor, had finally abandoned his intention to press a case in court against her, she had decided to give the majority of her father’s fortune to the Foundling Hall for the boarding and education of young girls and infants rescued from the city streets. The girls would have a home at the Hall until they were old enough to be entered as apprentices to a useful trade, with the aim, in time, of supporting themselves honestly. Today had been the first step, opening the refurbished older rooms to accommodate more girls, while construction had also begun on a new addition that would double the size of the existing Hall.
It was a very lofty goal, and one to which Serena had determinedly devoted much time as well as money. Yet what had pleased her most today was the simple sight of the girls playing on the lawn, behaving exactly as children should.
But at this moment, there was one child in particular that she wished most to see.
“Where is Mrs. Betty?” she asked Geoffrey, looking in both directions. “She should be back here by now.”
“I believe they went to inspect the chickens,” Geoffrey said. “Ahh, here they are now.”
The nursemaid bustled up the steps toward them, with a footman close behind. In the nursemaid’s arms was an impatient bundle of infant energy with wispy dark curls and bright blue eyes, snug in drifting layers of embroidered linen and lambs’ wool: Miss Caroline Fitzroy, exactly twelve weeks old. Few aristocratic babies would be brought from their nurseries to such an event at such an age, but Serena wanted her daughter to be aware of how fortunate she was and how she must look to the welfare of those who weren’t. At least that was what Serena had told anyone who’d shown surprise at the baby’s presence. What was closer to the truth was that Serena could not bear to be apart from Caroline, not even for an afternoon.
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