by Claudy Conn
Contents
Serena
Books by Claudy Conn
Copyright Page
Dedication
~ One ~
~ Two ~
~ Three ~
~ Four ~
~ Five ~
~ Six ~
~ Seven ~
~ Eight ~
~ Nine ~
~ Ten ~
~ Eleven ~
~ Twelve ~
~ Thirteen ~
~ Fourteen ~
~ Fifteen ~
~ Sixteen ~
~ Seventeen ~
~ Eighteen ~
~ Nineteen ~
~ Twenty ~
~ Twenty-One ~
~ Epilogue ~
After the Storm
~ Prologue ~
~ One ~
Spellbound—Legend
~ One ~
~ Two ~
ShadowLove—Stalkers
~ Prologue ~
~ One ~
About Claudy Conn
Read more about Claudy Conn’s books
Serena
Books by Claudy Conn
Risqué Regencies
Myriah Fire
Oh, Cherry Ripe
Rogues, Rakes & Jewels
Taffeta & Hotspur
Wildfire Kiss
Runaway Heart
After The Storm
Lady Bess
Lady Star
Serena
~
Paranormal Passions
Dark Love
Netherby Halls
Lady X
~
Hungry Moon Series
Hungry Moon: Quicksilver
Hungry Moon: Destiny
~
Legend Series
Prince Prelude—Legend
Spellbound—Legend
Aaibhe—Shee Queen (Novelette)
Shee Willow—Legend
Prince in the Mist (Novella)
Trapped—Legend
Free Falling—Legend
Catch & Hold—Legend
~
Time Series
Through Time-Pursuit
Through Time-Whiplash
Through Time-Slamming
Through Time-Frankie
(Coming soon: Through Time-Compulsion)
~
Shadow Series
ShadowLove—Stalkers
ShadowHeart—Slayer
ShadowLife—Hybrid
Serena
By
Claudy Conn
Copyright Page
Serena
By Claudy Conn
http://www.claudyconn.com
Copyright © 2014 by Claudy Conn
Edited by: Karen Babcock
Cover Artist: Kendra Egert
All rights reserved
Published in the United States of America
March 2014
Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Excerpt of After the Storm
Copyright © 2013 by Claudy Conn
Excerpt of Spellbound—Legend
Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn
Excerpt of Shadowlove—Stalkers
Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn
Dedication
To my editor and friend,
Karen Babcock
~ One ~
LORD DANIEL PENDLETON contemplated his desk with a look that spoke volumes. He held his quill poised for action, but he was heartily sick of signing his name to the stack of purchases his man of business had laid out for him to approve. He was restless and thought perhaps it was time to get out of London. Was he becoming jaded—sick of the haute ton’s hedonistic society?
He needed a diversion, and when his study door opened wide and a tall, robust woman of uncertain years and sure style stood on its threshold, he was most certainly diverted.
Nearly all their friends and family thought they looked much like one another, but other than the fact that they both had very thick black hair, he could not see it.
“Daniel, forgive me, but I simply must see you,” Lady Radburn said in tragic accents.
His lordship eyed his older sister warily. She was a handsome creature, and he’d always had a great deal of affection for her. More often than not, however, she would draw him into her family problems, and he wasn’t presently in the mood to deal with one of her numerous offspring. “What now, Phyllis?” He eyed her quizzically.
“Daniel!” she objected. “Don’t take that tone with me. I am at wit’s end.”
“Yes, if I had the misfortune of having four brats, I suppose I would be as well,” he answered on a short laugh.
She stomped her foot at him, reminding him of some of the fond memories they shared, and he softened. Apparently she saw this at once, for she reached out for his hands as he got up and came to her. “Danny, please, this is serious.”
His sister had been a widow for a little more than two years, but even in the years before her husband’s death she had applied to him whenever her children, all of them boys, drove her mad with distraction. Her husband had been a soft-hearted man and one that had been unable to discipline his sons with any success. She was fond of telling his lordship, however, that he seemed to have a knack with his nephews.
He chuckled and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. It always struck him that while his sister was certainly a tall woman, she was dwarfed beside him.
She eyed him and sniffed. He said cajolingly, “Right then, sister-mine, out with it. Who has done what?”
“If you had been attending to me last week, you would know. `Tis Frederick.”
“I was attending you. You said that he was due to return to Oxford, but he seemed to be lingering longer than he should with friends … sporting about in the New Forest.”
“Yes, and I told you that he had formed an attachment to a woman!”
He laughed. “Well, what is wrong with that? Young men do form attachments—they come and go with time.”
“Danny, she is an older woman … three years older to be precise. I understand that the friends he had gone into the New Forest with have already returned to Oxford, but he remained behind.”
“Simply tell him it is time to return to school,” her brother said disinterestedly.
“Danny, I received a letter from him this morning. He means to marry this woman.”
Lord Pendleton’s attention was arrested. “Marry her? Damn it, Phyllis, he is not yet twenty!”
“Precisely.” His sister fidgeted with her hands and then grabbed hold of his coat lapels and pulled. “What am I to do?”
“Who is this woman?” He gently removed her fingers from doing any further damage to his superfine and frowned over the problem.
“Her name is Moorely, Serena Moorely. She lives with her uncle, a squire, and their estates are of no great moment, but respectable enough.” She eyed him meaningfully. “I made inquiries, you see. However, what is more to the point is that he is too young to marry, let alone to an older woman who will use and discard him.”
“Well, honestly, three years is nothing, but as you say … he is too young to marry his first real crush.” He frowned. “Why do you think she will use and discard him?”
“Apparently, she is quite a beauty, and although she did not have a London Season, she has quite a few suitors. What does she want with F
reddy but a title and a fortune?”
This seemed plausible. “I see,” he said.
“Indeed, I had it from a dear friend who just returned from the New Forest that she is a veritable diamond, and Freddy is ever at her heels. I won’t have it, Daniel. I don’t care how beautiful she is. He must forget her and return to school.”
“If she is such a great beauty, why then is she not already wed?” his lordship asked pointedly.
“Perhaps it is because she would be penniless if it were not for her uncle. Even if she inherits his estate, it is only a modest one … nothing when compared to what she would have as Lady Radburn. I must believe she has been holding out—waiting for Freddy to come up to scratch. Hopefully, my letter telling him he must not think of marriage will prohibit him from applying for her hand … hopefully.” His sister began to wail. “My son!”
“Well, she shan’t have him, so calm yourself,” her brother said grimly.
“Then … you will do something?” she asked hopefully, sniffling.
“Indeed, I shall. This Moorely woman doesn’t know who she is dealing with,” his lordship answered thoughtfully. “But, she will. Oh, yes indeed, she will.”
~ Two ~
SERENA ENTERED HER uncle’s room quietly. The dimity curtains were shut tight against the full moon, but the flame from the huge stone fireplace gave off enough light for her to see her uncle in his large bed.
Restlessness stirred her into a frown. Lately she wasn’t as happy as she should be. She wasn’t getting any younger, and suddenly she wasn’t sure of anything.
Love seemed to be an elusive thing, perhaps never to be realized. She had suitors, many of whom had not given up on her, but she couldn’t commit. How could she, when the missing ingredient meant so much to her?
She sighed and told herself that, at the very least, she had her home with her dear uncle and the beautiful grange she adored. She had the freedom of a woman who had just turned three and twenty, and that was all a good thing.
Her uncle opened his eyes, and she smiled and went to him. He was propped up against his pillows, and he was, in fact, fully awake. She met his gaze and smiled but clicked her tongue and wagged a finger at him as she approached.
“La, but did you think it wouldn’t get back to me that you were up and about while I was out riding, walking the halls when you should have been resting?”
“Fire and brimstone!” he answered her with a fond smile. “You are not my keeper, and it was good for me. Keep up my strength you know.” He frowned and patted a place beside him. “Come sit. We need to talk.”
“Oh no, Uncle … not again?” she returned, heartily wishing he would not try to convince her that she had to make a choice and get married to one of her suitors.
“My sweet, golden-haired niece, I did not think it possible, but you grow more beautiful each day,” he said. “What I have to say is serious. You must at least listen with an open mind. Will you do that?”
“No, because it is not about you, it is about me and what you think I should have,” she answered with a rueful shake of her head.
“Listen to me, young lady, before I go to meet my maker, I mean to see you safely wed, but how can I when you don’t do anything I ask?”
“Now what are you talking about? What did you ask of me?”
“You are supposed to be at the Harvest Festival, not here.”
Serena laughed and adjusted his quilt, which was sliding off the bed. “And you are supposed to be asleep.”
“You know, your laugh is like music … angelic—”
She cut him off with a tease. “Angelic is no way to describe anything about me.”
“Serena,” he continued as though she had not interrupted him, “with your beauty, your smile, that pretty laugh, you could have anyone … anyone at all. Choose one and be done,” he said softly, still very serious.
“I will choose one when the right one comes along. Now, you need to sleep, dearest, and keep up your strength.”
“Sleep? How can I sleep with all I’ve got to worry about?” he retorted cantankerously.
“Worry? Indeed, what do you have to worry about?” Serena frowned. “And don’t say you are worrying about me when you know how happy I am.”
“Your friends are all married …”
“Not all. Dear Amy has only just gotten betrothed, and Francine—”
“Ah bah, your closest friends are married, and I have seen you with them … your heads together talking about their marital bliss. I want that for you.” He frowned as she looked away from him. “Serena, why aren’t you at the Festival? You cannot give me a good reason, can you? Why, just look at you. Do not think you shall always have your pick, for beauty or not, decent dowry or not, you are three and twenty, and your choices will diminish,” he told her ruthlessly. “Some might even begin to call you an ‘old maid’. Tell me how it is that the most beautiful woman in all of Hampshire isn’t engaged yet? Look at yourself, Serena. Your hair is like dark spun gold … your eyes are like a mysterious canyon of onyx …”
She giggled. “Onyx canyon, eh?” She shook a finger at him. “You say my age as though it is a curse. You are quite talking nonsense now. I shall think you are delirious with fever. You must stop worrying about it—I shall marry one day, when I am ready.”
“I won’t last till then, brat. Damn, but I want to see you wed and raising brats of your own. ’Tis the natural order of things. I like order. I want to drink at your wedding, Serena … humor an old man. Pick one of the poor chaps forever dangling after you, and do the thing.”
She looked into his faded blue eyes and stroked his cheek sweetly. What he had said was all true. She could hear people call her an ‘old maid’ next year. Did she care? In a way, she did. She said, “Uncle, I would always wish to do what might please you. I can’t, however, get married at this time, because those chaps you speak of may be dangling after me, but I am not in love with any of them.”
“Hogwash!” her uncle snapped. “Why I daresay a dozen different fellows are forever paying you morning visits. This place is over-run with the lot of ’em. But forget all of the others—what of Warren? He has a way about him. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Serena, and I don’t think you are indifferent to him either.”
“Warren Beverly is quite a wonderful and handsome charmer, and, yes, I do like him, and as you say there was a time … years and years ago when I fancied him, but …”
“But what, woman? I grant you that he has been in financial straits recently, but he would come around with your dowry, and he is most respectable. Besides that, I like him.”
She laughed. “It needs only that I like him enough to marry him, and although I do think he is a very good catch for someone else, he is not the one for me.”
“Serena, he can take care of you and I … I won’t always be here …”
“I don’t give a fig for such considerations. Take care of me, indeed. That is not what I am looking for, as I am quite capable of taking care of myself. I would not … could not be with a man I do not love. My hand must follow my heart.”
“Is it that boy? What the devil does he call himself, I can’t remember,” asked her uncle, pulling at his lower lip.
“Frederick?” she asked in surprise.
“Aye, that’s it, Frederick of Radburn. Is it him? It must be him. He is forever here, and you laugh a great deal in his company. He has asked me permission to court you, and I said to have at you.”
“Uncle! That is outrageous. As you say, he is a boy, nineteen to be exact, and I have already refused his offer twice.”
“Why? If he is nineteen, he’ll be twenty soon enough. Radburn is a good name. He is a baron and has a fortune to boot. I’m told he is a bruising rider to hounds, so you shall deal famously together. I was more than happy to give him permission to try and win your hand.” He sighed. “I did tell him it wasn’t me he should be applying to but you. Is it him?”
“Is it him? How can you ask? As though I w
ould keep him from school and rob the cradle?” Serena stood up from the bed, her hand going to her heart. “Faith, Uncle … no, it is not him.” She folded her hands into one another. “Freddie is infatuated with me … nothing more. I had hoped you would have nipped his infatuation in the bud and refused him permission to court me. That would have been the thing to do, as he is too young to know his own mind. He should be up at Oxford … not here, courting me.”
“Damn it, girl, you only have three years on him. What is that? Absurd to think you are robbing the cradle. He is old enough to know what he wants, and he wants you. Marry the boy and put him out of his misery and make an old man happy. I have a fancy to see you as Lady Radburn.”
She controlled the retort that formed in her mouth. He loved her and wanted her established respectably. She could not fault him, for she had been reluctant to choose a suitor. She knew this point had been a sore one with him. However, although she liked any number of men that had come calling, she had not fallen in love. She had begun to think something was wrong with her. Her married friends wanted to know if she was not moved to want a man to make love to her, and here was the trouble: she had not been so moved. Was she cold-blooded? Oh, she hoped not. How dreadful it would be to turn into a frosty spinster.
She decided to abruptly change the subject and asked, “Did you know that Farmer Cribbets has just brought in a new bull?”
This caught the squire’s interest, as he had always been involved with his tenant farmers and enjoyed their news. “Did he, by God? Cribbets has never been a fool. Good head on his shoulders. He has a face like a mule and a pair of cat sticks for legs, but a damned clever fellow. How much did he pay for the bull, do you know?”
“No,” she answered, smiling, pleased to see him on another subject. “But I have heard that he got the bull at a steal. Perhaps if you are feeling up to it tomorrow, we might drive over there and have a look at this new bull?”
“Aye.” Her uncle nodded vigorously, but then his eyes narrowed.