by Claudy Conn
Eustace stood in the central hall of the Moorely home eyeing Warren with great distaste, for they had arrived within moments of one another.
Warren snorted and offered, “Come on, ol’ boy, make the best of it. You couldn’t expect that a woman like Serena would have just one man hanging on to her petticoats, now could you?”
“You are beneath her, and I do expect she knows that,” the young reverend returned with something of a sneer.
“Well, as to that, the squire himself asked me to join the two of you tonight.”
The reverend turned openly astonished eyes to him and seemed unable to comment to this.
Warren grinned wickedly and wagged a finger. “There, there, you didn’t really think that the squire completely approves of your suit, did you? No, I am not sure he even likes you. Likes me, though.”
“Oh, and you know this how?”
“I have known the family for years,” Warren answered vaguely as he removed an invisible speck from his dress cloak. “I am privy to many things.”
“Dandy!” the reverend said with contempt.
Warren laughed.
* * *
Serena unbent from kissing her uncle’s forehead to find their elderly butler hovering at the door. “Miss Serena, both Mr. Waverly and the Reverend Bailey are here to escort you to the Merriweather ball.”
She turned a surprised face to her uncle. “Warren is here? I thought that the reverend was chaperone enough.” She eyed him, quizzically. “Whatever are you up to?”
“Didn’t want that prosy fellow Bailey taking you into the ball. It would make it look as though you and he had sealed the deal, and you haven’t. He isn’t for you, Serena. Something about the fellow makes me want to spit.”
Serena swallowed her laughter and turned to the retainer. “Thank you, Davis.” Seeing the slight smile curve his lips, she shook her head. “Oh, I suppose you agree with my uncle. You awful men. Right then, please advise the gentlemen that I will be down momentarily.”
She turned back to her uncle and, once the door was shut, wiggled a finger at him. “High-handed, my dear, very high-handed. I forgive you, for in this I will be, actually, more comfortable. Ah, escorted by not one man, but two. It is quite exciting and wonderful—this life, this spinster’s life,” she teased affectionately.
“Spinster? You, my dear-heart, are the Diamond of Hampshire, and though you are still unwed, you have them all beat. Disgraceful is what people will say about me. They will say ’tis me keeping you from marrying.” He eyed her. “You like Warren, and the two of you would go on comfortably … his estate is near, and I would have you close by.”
“Uncle, please, we have been through this. I love you dearly, but I don’t love Warren in that particular way. Besides that, I have come to see that he would make a dreadful husband.” She sighed. “What I do want is for you to get out of this bed and come down and have breakfast with me tomorrow morning. The doctor says you are well enough to do so. So we, you and I, shall breakfast tomorrow in the breakfast room.”
She was almost out the door when he grumbled after her, “That minister means to have you. He told me so.”
She laughed, blew him a kiss, and said, “Don’t fret yourself over what he told you. What matters is not what any of them want, or think they want, because it takes two. This part of the two says loudly and clearly that I am already spoken for.” Oddly enough, an image came into her mind, and she chided herself. His Lord Arrogant was what he was, and he had no business in her thoughts.
“Aye then, playing word games with me, are you? You can’t be tending an old man all your life. You need a life of your own.”
“So I do,” she said patiently and waved herself off. “I shall look in on you when I return.”
He grumbled as she closed the door, and she sighed quietly as she made her way down the stairs with a swish of her emerald velvet gown. Her maid had dressed her honey-gold hair at the top of her head and allowed cascading curls to fall down her neckline like a waterfall, and she had to admit when she passed the hall mirror that the style was quite alluring. She wore her mother’s pearl teardrops in her ears and the matching single strand of pearls around her neck. She looked down at the bodice of her gown and frowned. Her seamstress had cut it a bit lower than she liked to wear, displaying the fullness of her breasts to advantage. She hoped it wasn’t too low.
She took up the black velvet cloak and draped it over her arm as she made her way to the central hall, where her escorts awaited her.
She heard Warren’s outrageous flattery with an accompanying patient eye as she pulled on her cream-colored lace gloves and smiled a greeting.
Warren murmured, “Egad … woman, damn, but you are exquisite.”
She smiled to herself as Eustace frowned at Warren but turned to tell her with a soft smile, “You are, you know, quite ravishing.”
Serena thanked them, and as both gentlemen offered their bent arms, she laid a gloved hand on each, thinking that, honestly, a woman could do worse than to marry one of these pleasant men. She then chided herself. What are you thinking? Eustace would bore you with his lectures and his staid take on life within a week, and Warren would be Warren, and you could never passionately love either. You don’t want a marriage of convenience, she told herself soundly.
She noted that Eustace’s ball clothes were quite fashionable and was surprised because she was nearly certain they were also fairly expensive. Perhaps he had a private income?
Warren’s pockets were forever to let, but that never hampered his style. It was most absurd, but it was none of her business.
“My carriage awaits,” Warren stuck in. “It is a great deal more comfortable than the minister’s coach, and he may follow, if he likes.”
“No, I prefer to go with you both. Eustace may join us, as your carriage is large enough for the three of us,” Serena countered.
“Very well,” Warren conceded and tweaked her chin. “Whatever my lady wishes.”
“Neatly done, Warren,” she teased.
“You are too good,” answered the minister while he glared at Warren.
Serena giggled as the gentlemen attempted to help her climb inside the coach, for while they fought for position to aid her into the carriage, she nimbly climbed inside without either’s ministrations. She saw them exchange challenging looks before they took up position on the seat in front of her. She pulled her cloak around herself against the chill of the night as the driver clicked the horses forward and covered the three miles to the ball.
* * *
Freddy stood in his black velvet finery in anxious, desperate, childish anticipation of Serena’s arrival. Suddenly a look of severe consternation took over his face, and it was as if all pleasure in the evening ahead was momentarily suspended.
His uncle stood back and eyed him thoughtfully. Curious, Daniel Pendleton thought as he approached his nephew and said, “Waiting for Serena’s arrival, I take it?”
“Yes, but she has arrived, with them!” he wailed.
“With them?” His lordship’s expression was thoughtful as he looked to see what his nephew was talking about.
“The reverend, who you must know is a fool. I am not concerned about him, for he is, after all, a man of the cloth and probably doesn’t even know how to woo a woman, especially one as independent as Serena.” He shook his head. “It is the other … that dashed fellow, Warren Beverly.” He sighed and added, “Uncle, you will never credit it, but I daresay he is perhaps even older than you are and is forever dangling after her. Why, I think he is nearly thirty … a veritable ancient.”
“I am nearly thirty,” His uncle amusedly offered.
“Well, yes, but you aren’t chasing about trying to win Serena’s hand, and though he may be old, he is a bruising rider to hounds, a notable whip, and the ladies seem to like him. I have watched him, and he is a most accomplished flirt. Dash it, Uncle, I do hope she isn’t taken in by him. Half the ladies in the New Forest are after him … and look
how he holds her arm, as though she already belongs to him. I have a notion to plant him a facer!”
Freddy had the look of a man about to do just that, but his uncle assuaged him by saying, “I doubt that would help. Serena would not like a scene enacted, would she?”
“No, I suppose you are in the right of it,” Freddy agreed, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side.
Lord Pendleton watched Serena’s entrance with both the reverend and Warren Beverly at her side.
Looking at her nearly made him gasp.
He physically felt the air pulled out of his lungs. He felt it being extracted from his throat, and he was left breathless. She was ravishing. Everything about her, from her golden hair to her glittering dark eyes, to her full, enticing breasts and her small waist. Damn, bloody damn! She was stunning!
He watched with narrowed eyes as Warren hovered possessively near. He could see the man was something of a rake. He managed to stand protectively with Serena while casting his eyes about and flirting with half a dozen women.
His lordship watched the lady in question as she gave both gentlemen a wave of her fingers because a group of young women, evidently her friends, had come to surround her and take her off.
Freddy tried to get her attention but was unsuccessful and turned a sullen face as he downed his glass of champagne.
His uncle wondered at Serena’s behavior towards Freddy, which seemed nonchalant and disinterested. How did she mean to secure her position with him if she did not allow him some attention?
“Well, at least she is out of their clutches for the moment,” Freddy pronounced dramatically.
“You mean … she is with her female friends and not the reverend or Warren?” he returned lightly. He had to be careful with Freddy. He did not wish to be too pointed in anything to do with Serena.
“Aye.” He shrugged. “Not that I should worry. They are both too old for her, don’t you think, Uncle?”
“No, I don’t think that at all,” his uncle answered.
This appeared to surprise Freddy. “Don’t you?”
“No, as I understand it, Serena is, what … three and twenty? I think she should be looking at someone mature enough to care for her,” Lord Pendleton told his nephew pointedly.
Freddy frowned darkly. “If you mean to be disagreeable, Uncle Danny, I might as well take myself off.”
“Disagreeable be damned.” His uncle chuckled. “I’ve done my bit for your mother. You won’t return to school—so be it. There is only one thing we now can do.”
“And what is that?” Freddy asked suspiciously.
“You want Serena Moorely—well then, my lad, have at her. Or don’t you mean to make a push to dance with the lady?”
Freddy’s face brightened, and he was moved to exclaim, “Knew you would help me in the end. You’ve always been a right’un.”
His lordship watched his nephew rush off in pursuit of the lady and couldn’t help but grin at the zeal Freddy showed as he worked his way into the group of ladies with whom Serena was in deep conversation.
His lordship then cast an eye towards the minister and saw that he watched Serena almost obsessively. It was disturbing.
No doubt there—the good minister meant to have the lady in question. His lordship then turned his gaze towards the other young men in the room, many of whom were staring at Serena and her group of friends.
Warren Beverly was at that moment leading a plain-faced and staid young lady into the country dance. The young lady had a sweet smile and was obviously infatuated with the rogue.
His lordship noted with interest that while Warren’s attentions towards the chit he had led out onto the floor were marked, his eyes often strayed towards Serena, who was also being led out onto the dance floor by Freddy.
Pendleton watched Freddy and Serena as they came together and parted during the steps of the country dance. She smiled and laughed but showed no marked preference for his nephew, nor did she make any romantic overtures towards the lad. She did nothing that he could make out to encourage the boy to attend to her. What was this? Just what was this?
The dance ended, and as Freddy led Serena away, his lordship made up his mind. It was time to do something.
As he passed by them, he heard Freddy say he would fetch her a Negus. Lord Daniel Pendleton made his move. A coin changed hands, and a waltz was struck.
His lordship had Serena’s lacey gloved fingers, and before she had the opportunity to refuse, he led her onto the floor.
Serena didn’t look pleased and said, “What are you doing?”
“Waltzing … do you not know the steps? Don’t worry. Just follow my lead, and try not to step on my toes.”
“Oh, you … you … of course I know how to waltz. We are not that backwards here in the country!” she answered sharply.
He realized at once that not only did she know how to waltz, she did so with perfect grace. The feel of her small waist in his large hand sent exquisite sensations through him. He was for a moment reduced to a man bewitched. He decided just to enjoy the moment. He could not blame Freddy for being swept away. He certainly would be if he weren’t on guard, and he was on guard, wasn’t he? Indeed, he was.
He looked down at her and said softly, “Your lips are pursed for a kiss.”
“Are they? Well then, the wonder is that you haven’t tried to kiss them.” She cocked a look at him, and he very nearly did just that.
* * *
Serena knew what he was doing. He wasn’t interested in her in any way. He merely wished to secure her attention on himself and away from Freddy. She was not a fool, but knowing this did not dissolve the hurt that rushed through her. Well, if he meant to dally with her, so be it. She would give as good as she got.
Her banter was meant to startle him, and she was pleased when it did just that. However, she was aware that flirting with him, looking up into those sapphire gems of his, filled her with certain excitement; that excitement, that feeling, flitted through her blood and played havoc with her good sense. The challenge she offered him had made her blood rush to her head. Butterflies in her stomach? Oh no, they were huge blackbirds picking away!
His blues were filled suddenly with interest, and that interest made her quiver with anticipation. Would he actually dare to kiss her? He couldn’t. They were surrounded by people.
His hold on her tightened, and he lowered his head and put his lips just inches away from her ear. Her knees began to weaken. She glided through the steps of the waltz, but she felt as though she were flying. What was happening to her? It was as though a strong wind named Lord Daniel Pendleton had blown in and was all around her. She felt as though she were being swept away.
He murmured, “Should I, Miss Moorely, break all the rules and do just that?”
He was daring her, absolutely daring her. She would call his bluff, for he would not do such a thing in front of his nephew, in front of all the world.
She eyed him boldly and said as softly and saucily as she could, “Do I call your bluff, my lord, or are you trying to call mine? Kiss me then, and we shall see.”
His brows rose, for as she thought, he had been calling her bluff; however, instead of being angry, he laughed out loud and said with a shake of his head, “Refreshing—that is what you are. But do not tempt me further, Miss Moorely, or I shall find a way to squirrel you off to some corner where I will steal a kiss.”
It was her time to laugh. She looked him straight in his blue eyes and said, “Why do you say it as a threat—are your kisses not what a woman might want?”
He appeared thrown off balance, as though he had not expected this, and chuckled before he told her, “For that … I mean to show you just what a kiss from me feels like.” So saying, he held her hand and hurried towards the garden doors.
She did not try to stop him, but willingly went along and admitted to herself that she had challenged him on purpose. Something inside her had wanted him to kiss her. Something had demanded she kiss him.
Of all the boys or men she had ever dreamed of kissing, this one man was the most fascinating, the most desirable, and she was heartily sick of all the rules. She was not getting any younger. Just what would his kiss be like?
He had her in the garden, and she found the night air was downright cool as he led her behind a tall evergreen bush. He didn’t hesitate; he didn’t stall or whisper sweet absurdities. He simply took her into his arms, which in itself made her feel as though she might crumble, and then his mouth was on hers.
The cold night air was forgotten. The garden was forgotten. The people in the ballroom vanished. There was only him. Oh—just simply oh, but she had never been kissed like that before. Not even Warren’s kiss could compare to what his kiss felt like.
His lips had met hers with a brushing motion so gentle she wasn’t sure his lips had really touched hers, and then he managed to part them, and his tongue slipped inside. It was a velvet teasing; it found and tasted her, insisted she taste him, and she did.
She responded like a tart, throwing herself into the kiss with abandon. She wanted him, in every imaginable way. He had been arrogant and judgmental, and she didn’t care. His kiss was delicious—the moment was delicious—and she was not about to make any excuses for herself or feel remorse for taking this moment and making it hers. She had gotten just what she wanted.
Just as she had forgotten the cold, she forgot the proprieties, she forgot everything except the feel of his arms around her body and the taste of his tongue teasing hers with his intentions. Those intentions excited her imagination.
He was dangerous, and if she were honest with herself, she would have to admit she wanted that danger, wanted him. He pulled away and stared at her as though he could not believe what he had just done, or what she had just allowed.
“I must get you back. I … I am not such a cad that I would expose you to censure. Come.” He took her hand and quietly led her into a crowded part of the ballroom so expertly that none were the wiser about where they had come from.
The waltz had been requested again, and the music floated in the air as he turned her into his hold. Serena objected but only found the voice to do so mildly. “We must not. People will talk. You must know we cannot waltz twice in the same evening with one another. This is the country, and people would look our way and raise their eyebrows.”