Lady Triumphs (The Black Rose Trilogy Book 3)

by Renee Bernard

  “No. And I don’t want to talk about Trent. Not now.” She sighed. “Once the game starts, it will be soon enough for him to dominate my thoughts and fill my days. I don’t want to invite him into these moments.”

  “What a wise woman,” he said softly and rewarded her with a kiss. “Now let’s discuss how I’m to get around this chaperone of yours…”

  Chapter Three

  Serena sat back against the blue velvet upholstered seat of her closed carriage and made a quick internal inventory. A member of the Black Rose had sent word that the Earl of Trent had accepted an invitation to one of the Season’s inaugural events and from there, Serena had wasted no time in gathering the information she needed. She had made no open inquiries to anyone outside of her secret networks, preferring to camouflage her interests to guard them from casual gossip. The women of the Black Rose, and more often their servants, had provided all the details she needed.

  The earl rarely bothered with Town, and generally only came into London briefly for business or for his own benefit or when politics required his presence. Like many, he preferred his own stomping grounds in the country or the limited company of his investment cronies.

  But this season just as the papers had reported, he would be in London for the duration. It was impossible not to appreciate the timing of Providence and the twists of Fate that put her in a position to move against him at last. With Phillip Warrick at her back, there was nothing in her way and no one to stop her.

  Though for all of Phillip’s ardent vows to cooperate, Serena smiled at the memory of his pacing about like a bear in her bedroom that morning as she’d prepared to go out. She might have indulged him in a passionate distraction to settle his nerves but the clock was an unforgiving mistress.

  As the carriage halted in front an elegant home at the center of a tree filled square, Serena settled her thoughts on the afternoon ahead and the start of a dangerous game, perhaps the most deadly game she had ever played.

  No matter what Phillip had said, she did not underestimate Geoffrey Parke. Even on the surface, he was an enemy that provided no simple solutions. The earl’s business interests were good and his estates profitable. He had no weakness for gambling or whoring, nor any other vice that would expose him to social ostracism. He was yet unmarried but had no requirement of a direct heir since he possessed a nephew somewhere that she had never met.

  At first glance, he was untouchable.

  But Lady Serena Wellcott was not given to impulse or impatience and she was determined to look as long as it took until she found a chink in his armor. She already knew that Trent was an imbalanced soul and that his greatest weakness was his ego. One look at Phillip reminded her of the lengths he would go to if his “male pride” was wounded and she highly doubted that time had lessened his mania.

  But pride wasn’t exactly a straight path leading to a man’s downfall…

  “Lady Wellcott, you are as prompt as ever.” Lady Harriet Lylesforth gracefully swept forward to meet her on the steps. “Though I am not pleased at the notion of your arriving alone! What if I had been delayed?”

  “Harriet, unless someone has deployed a garrison to fight you in the streets, how is such a mishap possible?” Serena kissed her friend on both cheeks then leaned back to admire her new ensemble. “You are a force, Lady Lylesforth, and may I say, a little too pretty when you wear dark grey in the middle of the afternoon.”

  “Do not make your Dragon blush!” Harriet admonished. “It is unseemly!”

  Serena nodded, surrendering with a smile and taking her friend’s arm to climb the stairs to Norwich’s grand home. If there were any authority on what was “seemly” it was Lady Lylesforth, and no one in all of Great Britain wasn’t aware of it. All of twenty-eight years old, she would have been considered far too young and too beautiful to take on the role of a forbidding chaperone, but Harriet was not a woman to be defined by her age. Famous for her rigid standards and sharp tongue, Harriet was a widowed woman with a tragic past and she was renowned for her inviolate and uncompromising character.

  Only Serena knew her secrets and their friendship was forged in the strange fires of the Black Rose and the loyalty of shared combat.

  Harriet would be her chaperone or “Dragon” as Serena had affectionately dubbed her for the season and ensure that not a breath of gossip could mar Lady Serena Wellcott’s path in the weeks ahead.

  “Have most of the guests already arrived?” Serena asked.

  “All that matter,” Harriet said. “I have spoken to Lady Norwich and she is giddy to see you out so it’s a soft landing.”

  “Good.”

  “Lady Wellcott! You bring the sun with you and enlighten our little gathering in every way possible!” Lord Norwich said as he crossed the foyer to greet her. “When my wife revealed that you were to join our party, I abandoned all pretext of hating garden parties then and there!”

  “I loathe the draft of the outdoors and hope you’ve provided cover if the weather changes quickly, Lord Norwich,” Harriet said archly, forcing Serena to stifle a giggle.

  Oh, she is going to press this to the hilt! What fun!

  “Lady Lylesforth! I would never risk anyone’s delicate health by failing to do so! But what a pleasure to see you as well. What a…delight.” The man’s enthusiasm dimmed as he bore the brunt of Lady Lylesforth’s unfriendly attention. “Though I am saddened to see you still have not completely abandoned your widow’s plumage, dear lady.”

  The furious spark in her Harriet’s eyes was sharp enough to cut diamonds. “Her Majesty has yet to abandon hers, Lord Norwich. I felt at liberty to make a similar choice and did not think to suffer comment.”

  “Oh, no. I…meant…” Lord Norwich glanced at Serena with an open plea for mercy in his gaze. “Aren’t you both lovely!”

  “Harriet has agreed to be my companion this season,” Serena explained.

  “Naturally,” Lord Norwich replied, a lifetime of manners intervening to save him. “How very sensible of you, Lady Wellcott!”

  “Thank you, your lordship. I was so happy to receive your invitation. You and your wife have been so kind to include me. But how is your Emily?”

  “She grew up, Lady Wellcott! When I wasn’t looking and may I say, without my consent!”

  “No! She is a child yet and there is time to enjoy her sweet company!” Serena protested mildly, completely aware that poor Lord Norwich was the father of a sixteen year old on the brink of breaking quite a few male hearts. Like most daughters, the first heart in danger would be the father who adored her and who would be forced to loosen his grip when she was launched into society.

  “Her company is not so sweet at the moment,” he sighed then smiled. “She has likened our care to that of an ogre holding her in a tower but—what parent would do less? One more year to hold her back and then…she is as eager as a colt in the traces.”

  Serena took his arm, patting his shoulder in a comforting but useless gesture. “Next season, she can run her first race and you will see. You will watch her with pride and understand that no one can take a father’s place, sir, and,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially, “after paying for a debut trousseau and all those dancing slippers, you may be of a different mind when a suitable young man raises his hand.”

  Lord Norwich laughed. “You always know what to say to cheer me, Lady Wellcott!”

  Harriet shook her head. “We should go in and pay our regards to your wife, Lord Norwich. We have monopolized your time enough.”

  He ducked his head meekly and waved them through the main doors to show them into the party. Then it was the usual social blur of familiar faces and new introductions as Serena mapped out the battlefield and allowed Harriet to keep them moving. Norwich’s garden party was early in the season but an elite gathering thanks to Lady Norwich’s close friendship to Princess Louise.

  Serena took a slow turn around the gardens, stopping to greet acquaintances as needed but making sure that she did not stray too far
into the gathering’s center. She wished to keep a close watch out for Lord Trent’s arrival but also ensure that if he spotted her it was not with the impression that she was being shoved under his nose.

  It wasn’t a long wait. Harriet squeezed her elbow and then subtly shifted away to leave Serena alone, heading toward the refreshments.

  Lord Trent’s arrival was a simple thing without fanfare or fuss but for Serena, it was as if the wind stopped and the birds fell from the trees. There he was. Familiar and nearly unchanged after seven years, impeccably dressed in an afternoon suit with the polish of a gentleman as comfortable in a royal court as he would be in a brothel. He’d been her guardian since she was ten and until she’d left to elope with Phillip Warrick, Geoffrey Parke had held a special place in her affections. Lord Trent had played the role of a kind, wealthy uncle and if Phillip hadn’t shoved Trent’s letter into her hands before throwing her out of that carriage, Geoffrey Parke was the man she would have unwittingly returned to for comfort and care.

  A slithering ache of dread moved down her spine at the memory and the certain knowledge that but for that letter, Lord Trent’s rejection would probably have been the final push she needed to end her own life.

  But I ended it differently, didn’t I?

  Come, Serena. Think of oaks and sunshine and Phillip’s kisses because if Trent sees a single phantom in your face, then we lose before we start.

  He spotted her, his expression one of delighted surprise as he came toward her. “Lady Wellcott! My goodness, what an incredible stroke of luck to meet you at last!”

  She smiled, holding out her hands to him and walking forward to close the gap more quickly. “And the best kind of surprise! Lord Trent! You are unchanged and as handsome as ever!”

  “Am I? Men do like to see themselves as carved in stone and immune to time but—I cannot fumble with a similar claim about you for I swear, you have done nothing but blossom!” He kissed her on both cheeks then stepped back to assess his forgotten ward. “I was a fool and underestimated how beautiful you would become, Lady Wellcott.”

  She shook her head. “It was that first startling impression of a child with knobby knees sharp enough to blind the most discerning man that misled you sir.”

  He laughed. “Brava!” He leaned in to add, “I knew you would land on your feet but I never dreamt you would do so with such grace. I am so pleased and—awestruck, Lady Wellcott. Well done.”

  She curtsied and treated him to a wicked and flirtatious wink. “It was ever my desire to make you proud, sir. And yes, you are clever to perceive that I do not answer to my old name.”

  His reaction was so openly appreciative that she nearly gasped at it. His gaze dropped to admire her décolletage, the color in his face heightening.

  Are you…interested, sir? What an unexpected twist…

  “What a delight you are, Lady Wellcott!” he said, the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable.

  She smiled, forcing herself to warm to the words. “Are you in London for long, Lord Trent? Will this be my only chance to see you out and about?”

  “You will scarce believe it but I am here for the season. I took a grand little house near Hyde Park on Long Street and have determined to prove that I can still hold my own in the cruel cold of a London summer.”

  Serena shook her head. “I cannot credit it. You hate the city, I remember you saying it a thousand times.”

  “I still do,” he admitted with a sigh. “But now that I see you, I have forgotten why.”

  “Oh! Such flattery and now I know you are only speaking kindly because of a gentle nod to nostalgia.” She risked a pout, determined to assess what kind of threat he posed. “Of course, what am I doing fawning all over my dear former guardian and greeting you with smiles? I should have stomped on your toes for my troubles with Warrick but the sight of you drove it from my mind!”

  “Nonsense! I knew that boy wouldn’t get the better of you.” Geoffrey’s cheerful countenance never wavered. “But if you insist on punishing a man’s toes, then I’ll have to ask you to dance when the opportunity arises. You may march on my instep to your heart’s contentment—and then we can be friends again.”

  “A happy solution!” she conceded brightly.

  “Here, take a turn about the garden with me, Lady Wellcott.” He held out his arm and she took it, gracefully falling in step next to him. “Nostalgia is a wicked thing, in my opinion. It is the gilded lies we tell ourselves when the truth doesn’t suit.”

  “I have always enjoyed the truth. Perhaps that is your influence, Lord Trent.”

  “Rightly so!” He straightened his shoulders proudly. “Did I not aim to create the perfect woman? And there you stand, as beautiful as a goddess, unflinching and without silly sentiment to cloud those eyes!”

  “Taking all the credit, are you?” she teased him.

  “Naturally.” He grinned. “Though to see you now, I regret the waste of such a pretty bit of bait for so sluggish a fish as Warrick.”

  She playfully struck him lightly on the shoulder. “Do not say his name. I had nearly forgotten the fool yet it’s twice we’ve invoked him so let’s not risk a third just in case some pagan god of mischief sets out to ruin our day by plunking him in our path.”

  “I missed your wit.” He shook his head. “It was worth every penny I spent on your education, Lady Wellcott.”

  “I wonder why you would bother to educate me if all I was ever meant to be was a pretty little piece of bait?”

  “Why?” Geoffrey was nonplussed. “Why not is a better question. I never paid much attention. As you yourself said once, I instructed your tutors to cover the very basics to ensure your appeal and then the rest…” He shrugged his shoulders. “I just wished you to be happily occupied and out of my hair.”

  “How fortunate for me!”

  “Yes, a nice windfall,” he agreed easily. “I knew it couldn’t hurt. Some of the best courtesans were quite literate.”

  “I was to be a well-educated whore?” It took every ounce of her skills to laugh with the question and soften its edge.

  “Oh! That is a harsh comparison, Lady Wellcott! I apologize! I knew you would rise above it all if you had the means and perhaps a part of me hoped that keen wit of yours would triumph to reign over us all.”

  “No need to apologize.” Ice coursed through her veins as she lightly pressed herself against his arm. “I’m flattered you trusted my instincts.”

  “What flattery? A good intellect can defeat anything short of a bullet, in my humble opinion.” He grinned as merrily as a man on his birthday. “Tell me. The Duke of Northland’s been polite but distant since he reacquired you. It was the abrupt end of his correspondence that alerted me to the possibilities that you had solved the puzzle of your parentage and wisely attached yourself to him.”

  “It seemed practical to seek him out.”

  “When did you realize that the duke was your father?”

  She shrugged with a dismissive sigh. “It was a vague guess that served me well. You were so careful to hide his letters whenever I came into your study and then your pet name for me made me wonder.”

  “Pet name?” his brow furrowed as his memory failed to produce the detail. “What pet name was that?”

  “Duchess.”

  “Ah!” He laughed merrily. “Too clever! You are too clever, Lady Wellcott!”

  “All right, Lord Trent. Tell me the truth, since we have both confessed to loathing anything less. Why are you in London for the season?”

  He smiled. “There’s that persistent curiosity that betrays that underneath it all how very feminine you are! Very well, if you must know, I am here for my own selfish interests. My nephew, Sir Adam Tillman of Yorkshire, is to come to London before the week is out and I promised my sister I would be on hand.”

  “That doesn’t sound very selfish.”

  “It is! This is the boy who stands to take my place at Oakwell Manor along with the title. I’ve seen little of him, well, nothi
ng of him as my sister’s health is eternally poor and she’s insisted on keeping her boy close. But he’s a man full grown and enough is enough! I intend to inspect my heir apparent and see what the future holds.”

  Serena laughed. “Do you mean, to see what you can make of the future?”

  “Ha! Perhaps!” Trent shamelessly reveled in the insinuation. “A man must do what he can to protect his legacy in this world.”

  “Only a fool would do less,” Serena said. “Well, I will admit that I am simply glad for any excuse that brings you out. It has been too long.”

  “We will be at Lord Drake’s soiree on Saturday next.” He stopped to face her, his expression earnest. “Come and dance with me, Lady Wellcott. Meet my sausage fingered nephew and make me smile. Give me a glimmer of hope that the weeks ahead hold more than the humorless efforts I was going to make proving that I could live forever just to spite my sister.”

  She laughed. “That is a great deal for me to promise, but I will say yes to the dance and then let’s see.” Serena touched the rim of her bonnet to adjust it to better flatter her features and Lady Lylesforth interrupted them on cue holding two crystal glasses of punch.

  “Lady Wellcott! I should not have to hunt you down and may suspect you claimed to be parched only to…” Harriet gave the earl a dismissive look. “To fall prey to unguarded conversation.”

  “Have you met the earl, Harriet? This is Lord Trent. Lord Trent, may I introduce the unredoubted Lady Lylesforth.”

  “Charmed.” Geoffrey bowed his head a nearly invisible inch. “Surely this is not the famous Widow of Stone? You are too short and too pretty to be the very same, madam.”

  “It is a ridiculous nickname but regardless of its application, I fail to see how my height or appearance should affect my credibility—or cause you such astonishment.” Harriet gave him her iciest look. “Perhaps we should make introductions another time when you are feeling less giddy.”

  The earl cheerfully ignored her censure. “I remember something about Lord Lylesforth but the details of his demise escape my memory…Two or three years ago, yes? Something gruesome, wasn’t it? All my sympathy to you, dear lady, for your tragic loss.”