The manor house with its Corinthian columns and marbled pediment featured a large porch. She climbed the steps, let herself in, and proceeded to the ornate tapestry-paneled dining room. Her stomach rumbled, and reminded her she’d yet to eat.
“Hello, Henry.” Her face was warm. She hoped her cheeks weren’t pinked. “May I join you?”
He nodded and she sat next to him. “Did you have a good ride, Serena?”
“Yes.” The intensity in his eyes unsettled her. Were her emotions showing?
“I received a communication from my solicitor who reminded me of my legal status as your guardian. Your legacy from our parents will be deposited to our bank by week’s end. This might help you find a suitor.”
“I have no need of a suitor. Do not pursue the subject further.”
Distracted by her encounter with the masterful rake, Lord Austen, she reined in her wayward thoughts, and gave her attention to her brother. “Will all your guests arrive today?” Her fingers fidgeted.
“Why do you ask? If you are about to inform me that you will not receive my friend’s ladies, you will provoke my anger. I hope your schedule is clear this evening. I would prefer you join us.” His voice held a tone of disdain. “Is it so difficult to function as my hostess?”
Before she could respond, footsteps echoed from the foyer. The butler entered, cleared his throat and announced Lord Austen, who walked into the room and addressed his host. “Hello, my friend.”
Henry arose and shook his hand. “I would like to introduce my sister, Lady Serena Worthington Durand.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “This is the legendary Duke of Sutton, Geoffrey Austen.”
Serena rose, curtsied, and lowered her gaze. She had disrespected a Duke! She could hang for such a felony. Heat seared her face, her breath took leave of her lungs. Was that her handprint on his cheek or just her imagination?
“We have met, Henry. I stumbled upon your sister and her magnificent mare this morning as I exercised Solomon. Good to see you again, Lady Serena.” A wicked grin curled the corners of his mouth.
“Come, join our table, Geoffrey.” Henry motioned for the Duke and Serena to sit. “What happened to your cheek?” He pierced a succulent piece of beef with his fork and waited for an answer.
The servants hurried to serve the late lunch arrivals.
“Solomon and I rode hard this morning. I dismounted to allow him to drink from the cool lake water. In my perusal of the lovely countryside, I turned and met with a branch. Its forceful kiss left me bruised, I fear.
Geoffrey’s deep blue eyes engaged Serena’s when he smiled.
“It is a wonder you didn’t cut down the tree for its transgression,” Henry joked.
“I may yet decide to do that.” He grinned at Serena who took a sip of water from her glass.
A servant entered the room and handed Sir Henry a letter, which he read silently. He stood and motioned for them to stay seated. “I must depart. An urgent matter requires my immediate attention.” He folded the letter and placed it in his breast pocket. “Dinner is tonight at eight. I will return by then.”
He glanced at Serena. “Sister, your presence is required.”
“As you wish, brother.” She nodded at the intended command.
“We hunt tomorrow at nine o’clock,” he reminded his guest. Henry left and closed the door.
Serena challenged Geoffrey. “Why did you not tell me you were a Duke?”
“Do you infer you would not have marked me if you knew my full title, my wanton beauty? I introduced myself as a lord because I do not like women who fawn over me because of my ducal honorific.”
“I did not fawn over you, and of a certain, I am not your wanton beauty. I am not your anything. I am my own woman.”
Electricity sparked the air between them. The tingling on her scalp raced downward to her toes. Her breath caught at her own discomfort.
“No doubt, you are your own woman, but rest assured, soon you will be mine.” Geoffrey took a sip of ale from the crystal goblet, licked his wet lips. He blew her a kiss. “Did you miss my caresses?
“You are impossible.” Her fists clenched, her temples throbbed. She fingered the sharp knife at her plate. No man should ever argue with a woman holding a knife.
Especially one as sharp as this, which she held as a sentinel.
“You do present a challenge. Is Durand your married name?”
She released the breath she held. “It was. I am a widow and prefer to retain my maiden name.” She raised her chin. “What of you? Are you a powerful Duke or a lazy rake?”
“In some places, I am considered a powerful man, and in others I am considered a gifted libertine. Which would you choose?”
“I cannot see the difference between the two. Therefore, there is no choice.”
“A clever, perceptive answer, Lady Serena. My congratulations.” He laughed heartily. “I do believe you should release the hold on your knife. You may injure yourself.”
“I scarcely remembered I gripped it.” She’d held onto it like a drowning woman clings to a floating log. Serena placed the cutlery alongside the plate.
“Do you prefer to be addressed as your Grace?”
“I would prefer you address me as Geoffrey when we are alone. At other times, a simple Lord Geoffrey will suffice for the sake of propriety. Can you bring yourself to do so?” He stared at her and then burst out laughing.
“What do you mean, when we are alone?” Her fingers pleated the linen napkin in her lap, not once, but twice.
“I promise I shall be on my best behavior, when we are alone.”
“Best behavior as a rake or as a gentleman?” She shook a finger at him and bestowed a winsome smile. “I cannot believe a rogue such as you. Yet, I do envy your arrogance.”
“Do not waste your time on envy, dear Serena. It is a useless vice.” He pushed his chair back and crossed his legs, amusement in his expression.
“You allege I am an arrogant man? Arrogance can either offend or charm. I prefer to think mine is the latter.” He snapped his serviette, refolded it, and placed it on the table. “However, if I feel an offense has been rendered against me, I deal with it in a harsh manner.” He stood. “It would seem we have the afternoon to ourselves. How do you wish to entertain me, Lady Serena?” Mischief flitted in his eyes.
“You are much too assured, your Grace. Is it a manner you practice with precision? I would assume so.” She rose. “Shall we retire to the drawing room?”
“Splendid.” He paused to take her arm, and then led her along the paneled corridor to the elegant room she’d indicated. She sat on a tone-on-tone striped velvet chair. Lord Geoffrey sat opposite her with a small table between them, still much too close for her comfort.
“Do you live here in Henry’s house?” With nonchalance, he played with the sapphire signet ring on his manicured finger.
“There is always an available bedroom for me here, but I have my own residence near the lake where we met. Sheba is stabled in a small barn behind my house. Henry’s groom sometimes takes care of her, but I usually prefer to tend Sheba myself.”
“Do you have a lady’s maid who lives with you?”
What a curious question for him to ask. “Yes. Perhaps you would also wish to know my abode has ten rooms.” She tilted her face to him, her tone impervious. “Would you like to see the architect’s drawings?”
“It will not be necessary. I will find out soon enough.”
His cock-sure response didn’t surprise her. Why all the questions about her house and maid? His manners were insufferable.
Geoffrey rose and went to the fireplace where he placed his arm on the marble mantel and idly fingered a French rococo clock. “Such a fine piece,” he whispered as his graceful fingers gently caressed the spheres on the timepiece.
Serena’s hand went to her chest in a protective gesture. She observed every move. She imagined how those hands would feel on her body. Oh dear, he did have a special gift. She gasped to fill her lu
ngs, his presence sucking the oxygen from the room. A change of subject was needed.
“Lord Geoffrey, the hour grows late and I must return to my home. I rode over on Sheba and want to see her settled. Will you forgive me if I leave you to your own devices until the dinner hour?”
“I will do better, my lady. Solomon needs attention as well. We can walk to the stables together.”
Serena wanted to free herself of this seductive man who oozed charm with every word, but she could not offend her brother’s illustrious guest, especially after their encounter at the lake.
They walked in companionable silence until she spoke. “Come and allow me to introduce you to Sheba.” She softened her tone and preceded him to her horse’s stall. The animal whinnied as Serena approached. She entered and rested her cheek against the mare’s face and whispered. Sheba perked her ears. “This man would like to meet you. Please show your good manners and do not step on him or snort, even though he is an admitted rake. Please remember he is a Duke and should be accorded all respect or terrible things could happen to us.” Serena giggled. “Be kind, Sheba, he appears to sulk.”
“I do not sulk.” His eyebrow arched, sending her a cautionary glare.
She turned, hiding her humor at his hint of superiority.
Geoffrey stood near the mare. “I would like to be your friend, Sheba.”
Serena’s heart caught at the sight of his soft strokes on the animal’s glistening coat. A man that tender wouldn’t hurt a woman, would he?
Serena took inventory of the dark-haired man, glorious in his display of masculinity. His hard muscles strained against his jacket as if he were poured into it. Sinewy thighs hugged his breeches, hinting at a promise of pleasure. His impeccable wide-banded Hessian boots clung to his calves. He appeared ready and able to practice his acknowledged well-known talents. Geoffrey was definite temptation.
Her body stirred images of passion, but she’d learned to fear what a man could do in malice. She bit her lip, imagining every touch of his hands as unfamiliar sensations careened within.
His bold eyes held hers captive as he continued to stroke her horse with his gentle hands. Serena inhaled deeply. She had to take her thoughts in another direction or risk her morality. “Lord Geoffrey, may I inquire about your scar? It is straight, from your cheekbone to your jaw. Was it perhaps formed by a sharp knife or fencing sword?
“Most ladies are put off by my wound. However, I assure you it was won honorably.”
He turned his face to the mare. “Until we meet again, sweet Sheba.” His nose rubbed the horse’s face. Sheba nuzzled him.
“I see you have a way with mares of all species,” Serena jested.
“Does that come as a surprise? It would not if you knew me better.”
He took what she thought a conceited stance. The way he held his body tall, his head high, his chin firm, as if the air he breathed at that height was not for mere mortal men. She’d admit, only to herself, admiration for his witty, imaginative, proud and smug demeanor. She coined a name for him. Lord High and Mighty.
“You are a dangerous woman, my lady, and also a tease. You should exercise caution when you tantalize me. As a rogue, I have been known to scorch.”
“I pray you do not incinerate in front of me. It would frighten Sheba. You are mistaken, Lord Geoffrey. I do not tantalize, as you put it, with intention. It is a natural inclination to be flirtatious. I apologize if you think I led you on.” She approached him, placed a finger to the bruise on his cheek. “I am sorry about this, but your aggressiveness alarmed me.” Next she moved her fingers to the scar on the other side of his face.
He placed his hand over hers and let it linger. “Do you find it repulsive?”
“No. It fascinates me,” she murmured, “Yet I know every scar holds a story. Tell me yours, Geoffrey.”
“At another more intimate time, I may, but not now, my lady.”
Geoffrey pulled her hand away and kissed the palm. “I have an idea. Shall we ride together to your house? Solomon needs more exercise—like most males.” He scanned the stable. “I do not see the groom. Allow me to saddle our mounts and assist you.”
Serena didn’t need his help when Sheba was ready, yet allowed him to cradle his hands. She placed her boot on them to mount her horse. Her skirt hiked.
“Hmm,” he whispered. “Nice limbs.”
Did nothing escape his scrutiny? Serena shook her head at his naughtiness as she adjusted her split skirt. “Quite so, but you will never have them wrapped around your rakish back.”
His laugh boomed and turned into a riotous grin. “I see you eschew the sidesaddle?”
“Yes, I prefer to ride astride,” she waited for him to join her. “My horse and I are not ornamental. We like to ride fast and hard. Sidesaddles are a deterrent.”
Geoffrey took Solomon out of the stall, strapped on his saddle, and mounted his steed. They rode alongside each other. Although she didn’t trust him, he captured her interest.
“Shall I come to pick you up for a ride to your brother’s home around seven-thirty?”
“One of the servants will collect me in the phaeton.” She pointed to the distance where a fine small house stood. “That is where I live, Lord Austen. You can see how close it is to the lake.”
“Call me, Geoffrey, when we are alone,” he said.
“I shall endeavor to remember, Geoffrey.”
Soon they were at the door of her small but adequate stone structure. He dismounted and went to assist Serena. His strong arms gathered about her waist and lifted her from the saddle. She slid down and he held her against his body, deliberately slowing her descent until her feet were steady on the ground.
She closed her eyes at the unexpected ride down his torso and when she opened them, the message conveyed in his gaze had her yearning for more of the same.
“So will you invite me in to visit, Serena?” Mischief lilted in his voice.
“No, I would not dare take a rake into my parlor. However, I will entertain you for a brief moment on my veranda. Let me lead Sheba to her stall, and I will pour you a glass of lemonade when I return.”
Inside the barn, Serena removed the saddle, closed the stall door and left. Stunned, she watched Lord Austen disappear in the distance, her desire for a last caress thwarted.
Why had he not chosen to stay? Did she not offer enough? He was a puzzle she longed to solve. She did admit his arrogance could charm a skirt off a lady, but not her skirt, just yet.
Chapter Three
Serena entered the foyer. Her lady’s maid and confidant Emma greeted her. Theirs was a special relationship since she disapproved of the protocol of addressing a lady’s maid by her last name.
“Welcome back, mistress. Do you require supper tonight?”
She placed her gloves on the side-boy table along with her reticule. “No, I am dining with my brother. He has invited guests to hunt.”
“Will you require tea?”
“Yes, Emma.”
She climbed the small curved staircase to her rooms and went straight to her bedroom, which had a balcony.
Emma soon came in with a steaming pot of tea and placed it on a small table. She poured a cup for her mistress. “This is chamomile. It will be good for you.”
“I would like to bathe and erase the dust off my skin. I rode in a brisk wind this morning.”
The maid went about heating water and filled the floral painted metal tub. Soon Serena soaked her weariness away. “You have no idea how good this feels.” Serena leaned back; thoughts of Geoffrey whirled through her mind. He might be a rake, but she didn’t believe he would beat a woman into submission. A man like him would have the lady eating out of the palm of his hand, grateful for his crumbs. She could never beggar herself that way. Yet, he would make an ideal suitor, would he not? No. Rakes weren’t suitors.
Emma retrieved the emollients from a dresser drawer in preparation for her mistress’ ablutions.
After a good soak, Serena arose from the
tepid water. Towels were placed around her body and she dried. The routine had become well-practiced by both of them. Serena lay down on the plush comforter with a linen half-sheet around her. The maid removed a portion of the cover and her skilled hands rubbed the salve of rose water and glycerin to soften the scars on her lady’s back and buttocks. “I wonder if these will ever go away,” Emma mentioned, as her fingers worked their magic.
“It is nothing compared to the internal scars. Worse yet, Trystan degraded me. He made my life a living hell. I pray he resides there.” Many times her maid needed to administer to her lady after her deceased husband punished her for some perceived transgression.
“What gown will you wear tonight, mistress?”
Serena placed a finger to her chin and pondered. “Since a Duke will be in attendance, I do believe the purple silk with the feather shrug will do.”
“How shall I dress your hair?” Serena seated herself on the vanity chair wearing a light robe. “Perhaps curls on the side and the top piled high, with long strands down the back?” She looked in the mirror. “No jewels. I want it to shine like a raven’s wing.”
A short time later, she was pleased at the elegant look. She smiled in anticipation of seeing Geoffrey again. To complement her ensemble, she chose a necklace and earrings of dark gems that enhanced the color of her eyes. Her gloves and small reticule were of fine kid leather.
“I think I hear your carriage,” the servant mentioned. “I will wait for your return to help you undress.”
Serena and Emma descended the staircase. Emma opened the door to the footman who waited to assist her into the open carriage. Within minutes, she arrived at the large stone manor house.
Inside, the chandeliers were aglow, a wonderland of candles and shimmering lights. The majordomo greeted her.
“Lady Serena, Sir Henry is in the drawing room with his Grace. Shall I conduct you there?”
“You may.”
“Yes, my lady.” He nodded and preceded her, tapped on the door.
Once Upon a Duke Page 2