Lady Triumphs (The Black Rose Trilogy Book 3)

by Renee Bernard

  “God, if you think I’m going to abandon cards for embroidery,” Ursula said crisply, “you have lost the last of your grip on reality, woman.”

  Temperance’s pout solidified into a genuine snit complete with tear-filled eyes and Serena finally decided that it was time to intervene. “The smoke has begun to irritate my throat, ladies. Would you like to accompany me, Temperance? On a walk about the house toward the terraces?”

  Temperance managed a curt nod and stood from the table, then in a rush to escape Ursula’s censure, sailed off without waiting for Serena. Serena smiled at the awkward shock on Lady Hodge-Clarence’s face and made her own hurried pursuit of her unlikely new companion.

  “Mrs. Foxwood,” Serena hailed her softly. “If you don’t slow down, the other guests will think we are playing chase.”

  Temperance obeyed but not cheerfully. “I hate card parties.”

  “So I guessed.”

  Serena followed Temperance as she withdrew to the other side of the salon away from the crowded tables.

  Mrs. Foxwood turned without warning to stop for conversation and Serena had to avert herself from stumbling into the woman. “Lady Wellcott. Who are you precisely?”

  “Pardon?” The question was so abrupt, Serena gasped at it.

  “One hears…such vague tales in London. You appear out of nowhere a few years ago with a pedigree and no history. Your fortunes must be exaggerated as you appear to have no family and certainly, no husband. I should think you a courtesan to kings the way you present yourself with your elegant attire and striking sense of fashion but—Ursula refers to you like some kind of inviolate pillar of moral standing and several friends and acquaintances seem to be under the impression that you are an angel above reproach. They speak of you in raptured tones that make me wonder how a woman earns that kind of regard.” Temperance’s scrutiny was emotionless and unfaltering. “You are a mystery, Lady Wellcott.”

  “Am I?” Serena blinked. “My goodness, I had no idea!”

  “Did you not?” Temperance said evenly. “Yet, I still long to hear your answer.”

  “My answer to…” Serena took a slow soft breath to regain her mental footing. Temperance wasn’t the first but it had been a while since she’d been so openly challenged. “I apologize, Mrs. Foxwood, but did you mean to ask me if I were a saint or a—“ Serena swallowed as if the giving voice to the very word were abhorrent to her, “Courtesan?”

  “Are you?”

  “I am neither!” Serena stiffened her spine, giving righteous indignation full rein, deliberately not lowering her voice. “But I am most assuredly not a whore! And I will sue anyone for slander who would have it otherwise! How dare you repeat such a thing!”

  “What is this?” Lady Pellbrooks stood from her game to cross the room. “Ladies, what discord has poisoned your evening?”

  Temperance’s stance changed instantly, as the withering gaze of her sister-in-law and her hostess combined to make her rethink her candor. “I meant…only to learn more of…Lady Wellcott.”

  “Mrs. Foxwood thinks me too well dressed or elegantly appointed to be a well-bred lady of quality,” Serena said more quietly, allowing an open show of her injured spirit to sell her vantage point and turning to her hostess to kiss her cheek and begin her retreat. “Thank you for including me in this lovely evening, Lady Pellbrooks, but I have no desire to disrupt the proceedings by sparking unwarranted curiosity and speculation by simply wearing the wrong jewels.”

  Mrs. Foxwood’s pout returned. “Foolish theatrics over nothing, if you ask me.”

  “No one asked you, Mrs. Foxwood!” Lady Hodge-Clarence was not pleased as she sailed up. “Temperance, tell me you have not insulted the esteemed Lady Wellcott!”

  “I have not.” Mrs. Foxwood could only cling to what ground she had left. “I merely asked about her family connections and social standing and it was interpreted as a call to war.”

  “What’s this?” A male voice entered the fray and the women shifted in surprise.

  Serena’s expression was calm but there was nothing welcome in the Earl of Trent’s arrival at the party in this moment in time. Chaos was a drug to him, and she could only pray that he wouldn’t take grim striking pleasure in adding to it with a dash of his own.

  “Lady Wellcott! Have I arrived late only to miss a good brawl?” Geoffrey teased.

  “No,” Serena said as she tried to smile. “You are too clever to miss anything, your lordship. Please, enjoy the tables and do your best to show a touch of mercy to those poor gentlemen who haven’t yet experienced your gaming skills, but I will take my leave.”

  Geoffrey’s brow furrowed. “You must stay, Lady Wellcott.”

  “Yes…” Lady Pellbrooks was making every effort to save the merry atmosphere of the night. “I’m sure Mrs. Foxwood was about to apologize for her…”

  Ursula cleared her throat. “For her early departure and wretched luck. Come, Temperance. I have a headache and you will graciously accompany me.” Lady Hodge-Clarence gripped her sister-in-law’s elbow. “We look forward to seeing you at the concert next week, Lady Pellbrooks. Don’t we, Mrs. Foxwood?”

  Temperance nodded, a woman temporarily cowed into obedience. “Yes. We count the hours.”

  The two women left and Serena’s watched in sympathy, aware that if Mrs. Foxwood weren’t regretting her words that she would before she escaped Lady Hodge-Clarence’s carriage.

  For which I am sorry, Temperance, but this may be the least of your troubles.

  “I should return to my game.” Lady Pellbrooks stepped back. “Let me direct you to my husband’s table, Lord Trent. He will be so pleased to see you, and the Marquis of—“

  “Do not trouble yourself, Lady Pellbrooks.” The earl smiled, waving her offer away. “I am never shy and will make my own way, have no fear. But with your permission, I will petition Lady Wellcott to linger for a while.”

  Lady Pellbrooks left them with a smile, her party’s atmosphere restored.

  She allowed the earl to pull her aside but only so far as private conversation required. Serena was without Harriet and was not about to risk the loss of an audience if she needed one. “I will not stay long.”

  “Come on, duchess, you can’t let a pinched little ferret like Foxwood send you running!” Geoffrey chided. “She’s nothing.”

  Serena shook her head. “She is not nothing. She is a woman with a good reputation, related solidly either by marriage or by blood to no less than three Peers of the Realm and if my memory serves, I think she is on the musical advisory committee for Westminster’s boys choir or some such. I am surprised at you, your lordship, for dismissing such a dangerous creature.” She smiled mischievously. “You are a brave soul.”

  “Ha! I am your knight in shining armor!”

  “Truly.” Serena sighed. “But for me, retreat is the better part of valor in this instance.”

  “Nonsense. You were victorious,” Geoffrey protested. “Come play cards.”

  “I am not the victor.” Serena looked at him, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat. Here was the man that invoked her bastardy when it suited him, or called her duchess when it pleased him, but she was the one who walked the narrow ledge between nobility and scandal. “A married woman of any station will always take precedence over me and I will always suffer their scrutiny.” She sighed again, forcing a merrier smile onto her face. “It is your fault for spoiling me, Lord Trent. I think too much of myself to suffer fools lightly.”

  “That is as it should be,” he said. His eyes grew alight with pride. “You are exactly as I would have you.”

  Serena looked away, determined to deflect the direction of his thoughts or diffuse any flirtation. “And where is Sir Tillman? Are you going to teach him how to empty your friends’ pockets?”

  “He is—“

  “Here,” Adam supplied as he approached. “Wishing it were billiards but I am prepared to hold my own.”

  The earl’s mood instantly changed. “Billia
rds! Billiards excludes the participation of the ladies and is hardly a game for good company.” He crossed his arms defensively. “What a notion!”

  The muscle in Adam’s jaw ticked but he said nothing.

  “It is a gentleman’s game, Lord Trent. Come, sir, be kind.” She smiled at Adam, genuinely pleased to see him again. “I can see the appeal of billiards to an engineering mind.”

  “I enjoy a weekly night of it at the club despite my uncle’s protests.” Adam nodded. “But I should have been more sensitive, uncle. At your age, the strain of it is likely too much for your back.”

  Geoffrey’s mouth fell open in protest but Serena spoke before poor Lady Pellbrooks was alerted to yet another battle in her grand drawing room. “Oh, no, you don’t! Sir Tillman, your uncle is too wise to rise to that bait but no more quarrels. I have already caused too much of a stir this evening and have no wish to be banished from any future gatherings.”

  “Your presence will be missed.” Adam looked down into her eyes and it was easy to smile back.

  “I should wish you both luck tonight before I go then. A lady should know to take her leave when she is not at her best, and when her chaperones have deserted her. Good night, friends.”

  She departed before another round of explanations or apologies would be required and left Pellbrooks with her head held high.

  “Damn. There goes my only chance at decent conversation,” Adam sighed.

  Lord Trent shook his head. “I will do my utmost to not take that insult personally, boy. Though I agree, she should have stayed to improve my evening—not yours. I love it better when she spits in their eyes than when she plays the delicate lady.”

  Adam’s attention immediately shifted back to his uncle. “You love nothing. Let’s play cards.”

  “God! When did you become such a ball of black tar?” Lord Trent began to lead them into the room. “I should tell you that before you came in the lady accidentally admitted something I have long suspected.”

  “And what was that?” Adam asked.

  “That she secretly longs to be married!” Trent whispered confidentially. “But then what woman doesn’t? It is just as I said. Smoke and mirrors and all pretense when behind it all, every woman no matter how proud they appear longs to be tucked safely into a man’s protection.”

  Adam’s disbelief was so stark he could taste it. “Who would have guessed at such a thing?”

  “And I’ll have you know that I love…a great many things, you dullard!”

  Adam held his tongue.

  You do love a great many things, Uncle.

  But people are not things, are they?

  He glanced back at the room’s entrance where she had gone, a growing sense of some missed opportunity, some lost moment in time. Uncle Geoffrey’s nonsensical claim about Serena confessing some secret wish to wed was pure delusion but it unsettled his nerves.

  He is perhaps hearing what he wants to hear.

  And that is never a good sign.

  Chapter Eleven

  Serena dropped her reticule on the table by her bed, the weight of her winnings making a small authoritative sound that made Pepper smile.

  “I can’t think of a person who has your luck…” Pepper sighed as she pulled out Serena’s wraps and nightgown. “Though by that look on your face, I’d warrant not all the cards came up the way you were hoping tonight. Did the earl not attend?”

  “He did. I saw him for just a moment as I was leaving.” Serena turned her back to allow Pepper to help her undress. “I wasn’t in the mood to play.”

  Pepper’s eyes widened in surprise. Something was off in her mistress’s tone. “And Sir Tillman? Was he not in the mood for a hand or two?”

  Serena’s stillness spoke volumes. “I didn’t inquire but I’m sure he can hold his own at a card party or make his own excuses if he wishes. He mentioned a penchant for billiards at his club and I don’t blame him. Men are luckier in their vast choices to occupy their hours.”

  “A shame you couldn’t—“

  “Leave it.” Serena cut her off, stepping away. “I’ll finish this. I’m tired and out of sorts but I prefer to see myself to bed. Get some sleep, Pepper.”

  “As you wish.” They had been together too long for Pepper to mistake the signs. Serena rarely admitted to anything remotely resembling fatigue or weakness. The demand for solitude was valid and she respected the request with smooth speed and without complaint.

  She headed downstairs to ensure that all was well. The kitchen had long since quieted for the day and the house was almost silent. She left a note for the cook to anticipate Lady Wellcott’s wishes for her breakfast tray and then glanced at the clock to note the time.

  Nearly midnight.

  Pepper headed down the empty servant’s corridors to the house’s back entrance where deliveries were made. She unlocked the portal and smiled. “You’re on time.”

  “Why is she home early? I thought it was cards tonight?”

  Pepper shook her head. “Hush! It was cards and she isn’t sharing her every thought, is she? Not even with me, I’ll have it known!”

  He leaned against the doorframe, lowering his voice. “I apologize.”

  “God, she’d skin me alive if she knew I was doing this.” Pepper smoothed her hands over her apron nervously.

  “Prudence. It’s my neck that stretches if she realizes this secret but you have my eternal gratitude for the risk you take, dear girl.”

  Pepper sighed. “Very well. There’s not much to say but if I know her, the meat of the battle’s just ahead. Trent’s like a poison and even my lady isn’t immune to it. Every minute with him is taking its toll and she won’t suffer it much longer.”

  “She’ll begin to push for a quick finish.” He took off his top hat and raked his fingers through his hair, betraying his nerves. “Damn it. I can’t help but fear that in a rush, mistakes are made and the danger of a misstep grows. And the nephew? Any signs he is even remotely a dullard?”

  “Sir Warrick!” Pepper playfully swatted at his arm to cheer him. “Jealousy makes you far too pretty!”

  He laughed softly. “Thank you. Now tell me something useful, Prudence.”

  “Sir Tillman prefers billiards to cards. I think he plays at his club. She’s set for the Royal Theatre on Thursday, her dragon in tow if Lady Lylesforth is recovered from her cold. And…she is missing you dreadfully.”

  “You have no proof of that last one.”

  “I do! I’d wager my favorite bonnet on it!”

  “You’re that certain, are you?” he asked, his good humor returning. “Your favorite?”

  “You’ll buy me two if she doesn’t admit it and send for you herself before the month is out! How is that for confident, sir?” Pepper put her hands on her hips, a woman unafraid.

  “I’ll buy you a dozen bonnets.”

  Pepper’s merriment faltered. “Oh, that’s too many! I’d not have a misunderstanding!”

  “I highly doubt my Raven will mistake the gift but I agree it might be hard to explain their source.” Phillip crossed his arms. “I’ll just wait until all of this business is settled and then pay my debt. How’s that?”

  Pepper shook her head firmly. “No. It was all a jest. I’m right, of course, but…it was foolish to speak of bonnets. You mustn’t!” Her throat tightened and her eyes felt watery and hot without warning.

  “Pepper? What is it?”

  She pressed her fingertips to her lips.

  What would my darlings think of me if I paraded about suddenly in a bonnet that another man had gotten me? The twins had been so kind to her lately, stirring her soul with every tender word and compliment. The shame of Southgate haunted her spirits and her growing fear that if they knew… The horror would be compounded if they also thought she was the sort of girl who accepted gifts from men. Jack and Jasper thought her a good girl and her secret adoration of them was too precious to risk.

  Not for all the bonnets in the world.

  “Prude
nce?” Phillip asked again.

  “Never you mind. I’ll be the mistress of my own millinery needs and you just see that you continue to keep out of her sight and clear of the tangle!”

  “I am a ghost until she sends for me, Pepper.”

  “Says the man who nearly forfeited all.”

  “An overdose of honesty I will do my best to avoid in the future,” he admitted. “I am who I am, Pepper.”

  “I like you for it, Sir Warrick. As she loves you for it. Just mind your toes.” Pepper stepped back to start to close the door. “Off with you now!”

  Phillip smiled as the door’s surface missed brushing his nose by the breadth of a few hairs. He was used to the delightful way she abruptly ended every clandestine meeting, the forfeit of civility somehow charming when it was dished out by a tiny strawberry blonde without an ounce of malice in her entire frame.

  He stepped back, replaced his topper and made his way down the dark alley, as stealthy as any thief. Raven had banished him and he’d gifted her with the belief that she had the authority to do so. But Phillip Warrick’s vows to her the day of his return to London held him fast. He loved her. He’d sworn to never leave her again. Whatever conditions she’d dictated made no difference. Loyalty was embedded in every fiber of his being and Phillip was not some weak soul to cower in ignorance or omit any chance to come to her aid should she need him.

  Raven Wells was his.

  He’d endured years without her. A few days or weeks without her in his arms and underneath his body were agony but not a torture he couldn’t survive.

  Phillip sighed. Raven wasn’t the only one who had learned to look at the larger board and see the movements of the players. Not that patience was a lesson anyone ever enjoyed. She’d accused him of underestimating her, of not sensing the changes that the events and years had wrought in the girl he’d first kissed in a gazebo. But Phillip accepted that Raven had missed surveying the same in him. She’d become a force in her quest for vengeance but Phillip had also transformed with time and experience.

  He was not a man who turned from what he wanted or relinquished his heart’s desire—not for scandal, for disaster, nor for self-preservation. If his warrior queen lived for ambushes and the tactics of the battlefield, she’d unknowingly chosen a mate who was built for the strategies of the long siege.