by Abby Gaines
He shook his head. “Twice before she was chased by fortune hunters, as you may know. Although I believe I did right persuading those men to drop their suit, I suspect Marianne resented my interference, in one case in particular. The man was the lesser of the two evils, to be sure, but still a fortune hunter.”
“She feels you deprived her of a chance to marry and have children,” Serena admitted.
“She told you that?” He looked shocked, and hurt to have his suspicion confirmed.
“I know you only wanted to look after her,” Serena said impulsively.
He smiled. “You mean, I decided what was best for her.”
Serena smiled back. “Which can be a very good habit. Dominic, I understand you not wanting to incur her resentment again, but surely this is too important...”
“I would rather attempt to separate them more subtly,” Dominic said. “If Severn’s report of his London lifestyle is accurate, Beaumont must already be chafing at the quietness of the country.”
“He has mentioned the dullness of the evenings,” Serena said.
“He’ll be torn between Marianne’s fortune and a desire to return to London. Once this house party is over, there’ll be nothing to look forward to. I’m hopeful London will seem even more attractive.”
“There’s nothing to stop him corresponding with Marianne after he leaves,” Serena said.
Dominic hesitated. “When he gets back to town, he’ll see the contrast between the fresh-faced debutantes and my sister. He might have to work harder for his money, but he’ll end up with a wife he can parade proudly in society. Severn suggests his image is important to him.”
Serena’s heart broke for Marianne.
“She will recover,” Dominic said roughly, reading her face. “Absence is a powerful anesthetic, and Marianne has met Beaumont only a handful of times. If we let this attachment run its natural course, rather than forcing it to end, then when Beaumont leaves, Marianne won’t have been humiliated in front of me and you.”
“And she won’t have the story spread around the district through servants’ gossip,” Serena said, feeling guilty that she was discussing her friend, plotting against her, this way.
“The main thing is to protect her from any actions that might have ruinous consequences,” Dominic said. “Which is why I wanted you to know the truth. I suspect that by the time we rejoin our guests, Marianne will have insisted Beaumont join tomorrow’s expedition to Oakham Castle and attend our supper dance on Saturday, along with goodness knows what else.”
Serena groaned.
“You’re the person best placed to make sure she doesn’t spend time alone with Beaumont, or behave indiscreetly,” Dominic said. “Can I rely on you?”
“Of course.” Instinctively, Serena stretched out a hand.
He took her fingers in his and smiled down at her, his eyes warm. “Thank you, Serena.”
Ridiculously, her heart leaped at the sound of her name on his lips.
For a long moment, their gazes meshed.
“You’re looking at me in a...an unusual way,” he said.
His bluntness startled her. “Whoever marries you will be a fortunate woman,” she blurted.
His eyebrows shot up.
“I meant that you’re thoughtful...and loyal,” she said.
She seemed to have silenced him.
“I don’t hesitate to tell you when I think you have things wrong,” she reminded him, embarrassed. “It’s only fair I should point out what you do well.”
Still, it took him a while to find a response.
“Let’s hope,” he said at last, “that these other ladies—” his gaze swept the lawnful of prospective brides “—agree with you.”
It was as if a sudden shadow had been cast across the garden.
“Let’s hope,” Serena echoed.
Chapter Eight
“Where is Charlotte?” Serena asked. “We can’t practice without her.” Not without the most musical member of the Granville family. The children’s performance had improved enormously, but it was Charlotte’s talent on the harp that would make it audience worthy.
If she ever turned up.
“She’s helping Cook,” William said.
Serena sighed. Charlotte had developed a passion for baking, it seemed. Which wasn’t a problem just now, but Serena hoped she grew out of it before she reached an age where it was considered unladylike to spend time in the kitchen. Knowing Charlotte, there would inevitably be strife. Of course, dealing with that would be her father’s problem. And her stepmother’s.
“Hetty, can you fetch her, please?” At least that would stop the ker-plunk, ker-plunk of the pianoforte keys that was giving Serena a headache. She’d barely slept last night for worrying about Marianne and ruing her own part in inviting Geoffrey Beaumont into their midst. As Dominic had predicted, the bounder had already been invited to this afternoon’s castle expedition and to the supper dance by the time she and Dominic rejoined the party.
Serena yawned, which prompted William to do the same. “Are you tired, dearest?” she asked.
“No,” he said, and yawned again. He’d worked himself into a terror in the night again, Nurse had told Serena. Typically, it took him a long time to settle after those episodes.
Hetty returned to the drawing room. “Charlotte’s not there. Cook said she went outside.”
Serena groaned. “We shall have to start without her. Thomas, isn’t that flute tuned yet?”
He blinked at the sharpness in her voice, and set down the instument, which he’d been tinkering with for the last ten minutes. Serena shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m in a crotchet today. Come on, my loves, this is our very last rehearsal—we’re performing tomorrow, so we need to get it right.”
Louisa tugged at Serena’s skirts. “I know all the words, Miss Somerton.”
“Wonderful.” She kissed the top of her head. “Places, everybody.”
Actually, they weren’t too bad, she thought, as she listened to verse after verse of “Scarborough Fair.” Rather good, in fact. If Charlotte had been here, covering any lapses from her siblings with her nimble fingers on the harp strings, they’d have been close to excellent.
“Again,” she instructed. She moved over to the window to gain a more distant impression of the sound. Outside, it was a beautiful day, which had prompted several of the gentlemen to go fishing. A figure running across the lawn toward the house caught Serena’s eye.
Charlotte. Where had she been, the little minx? And what was that, glinting in the sunlight?
Oh, no.
Charlotte was carrying a silver platter.
“Keep going, children,” Serena said. “I’ll be right back.”
She hurried from the room and let herself out the front door. She met Charlotte as the girl was about to sneak around the side of the house toward the door that led to the gun room.
Charlotte jumped a mile at the touch on her shoulder. She turned to face Serena, sliding the platter behind her back in an ineffective attempt to conceal it. “Hello,” she said brightly, as if nothing was untoward.
“Did you steal food from the kitchen again?” Serena asked.
She turned bright red. “It’s not stealing, it’s our food.”
“Did you tell Cook you were taking it?”
The girl clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.
“Because you knew you shouldn’t.”
Still no response from the child.
“Then why didn’t you ask your father, or even me? We could have discussed it with Cook. Your father might have given the man some money....”
“Albert’s afraid to come to the house, in case we summon the magistrate,” Charlotte said.
Serena gaped. “Albert?”
“Th-that’s his name.” Charlotte realized she’d erred, and she took a step backward.
“Charlotte, you cannot go off visiting a vagrant in the woods.” Serena took the tray from her. “It’s unsafe.”
; “Albert’s nice,” she said. “He’s much nicer than the first man.”
“You mean this isn’t the same man as the one you gave the lamb to?” Serena said, horrified.
Charlotte shook her head.
Gracious! Every beggar within a hundred miles had probably heard of the bounty to be had from Miss Charlotte Granville!
“Charlotte, this is very naughty,” Serena said. “Your papa will be angry.” He would punish his daughter, Serena didn’t doubt, and she couldn’t argue with that decision. Though it was rare, there had been cases of tramps assaulting or even murdering people. The silver platter Charlotte was carrying was probably worth enough to feed the man for a year. Serena shuddered.
“Please don’t tell Papa, Miss Somerton,” Charlotte begged.
“Of course I must.” Serena hustled her into the house through the side door. Dominic would need to make sure the man left Woodbridge land.
“But—but he’ll hate me.” The cry sounded as if it was wrung all the way from Charlotte’s heart.
Serena stopped. “He won’t hate you. Charlotte, he wouldn’t.”
“He already doesn’t like me—he never smiles at me, and he gets cross about tiny little things. And when he gets a new wife it’ll be even worse.” Charlotte rubbed her eyes with her fists. “He’ll love her more than he loves me.”
Serena wondered if she realized she’d implicitly acknowledged that Dominic did love her. Which was more than his convenient wife could expect. “That’s not true,” she said. “Your father isn’t the sort of man to spout sappy words of love—”
A giggle broke out from Charlotte.
Serena patted her cheek. “—but I know for a fact that he loves you very much. Will you trust me on that?”
Charlotte nodded, but looked unconvinced. She sniffed. “I’m sorry I took the ham, Miss Somerton.”
The ham! Serena winced. There went tomorrow’s breakfast.
Charlotte saw her anxiety and turned sullen again. “Please, Miss Somerton, please don’t tell Papa. I don’t mind if he smacks me, but if he shouts at me, I’ll die.”
“Nonsense, Charlotte, you’ll do no such thing.” For the sake of Charlotte’s rocky relationship with her father, a part of Serena would prefer to keep this quiet. But she had to tell Dominic....
He’d confided in her about Mr. Beaumont, and trusted her to look after Marianne. Could she repay his trust by concealing Charlotte’s theft? Not to mention the presence of a vagrant on his land?
“Don’t tell him,” Charlotte pleaded again.
But if I do tell him, there’s every chance he’ll confine Charlotte to her room for a day or more. Which meant Charlotte would miss tomorrow’s musical performance. The thought of putting on a show intended to impress the visiting ladies and Dominic without its star...
“I need to think about this,” Serena said, aware how weak that sounded.
Charlotte threw her arms around her, almost knocking her off her feet.
“That wasn’t a yes,” Serena warned. As she escorted Charlotte to the kitchen to return the tray and apologize to Cook—and to beg the woman to find an alternative to ham for breakfast—she felt hopelessly out of her depth.
Father, what should I do?
* * *
On Friday afternoon, hiding in the library from the constant onslaught of company, Dominic was counting the days until this infernal house party would be over. He’d made polite conversation, he’d acted the fool in games of charades, he’d shot arrows at targets. Night after night, he’d endured interminable dinners, wreaths of cigar smoke and endless rubbers of whist washed down with cups of tepid tea.
All he wanted was his quiet life back...but the awful truth was, things might never be the same again. Not if he proposed marriage to one of the young ladies currently staying in the house. It would be the end of life as he knew it.
No point consoling himself with the hope that his chosen bride might turn him down—he didn’t consider himself irresistible, but he wasn’t ugly, he had a large fortune and a beautiful home. He’d done nothing to give his guests a disgust for his manners. They still had to meet the children, of course. Dominic wasn’t naturally inclined to gush, so he probably hadn’t said enough to make them sound irresistible. But none of these women would have accepted the invitation to the house party if they didn’t intend to accept a marriage proposal.
Once he married, Woodbridge Hall would feel different. There would always be someone else at the table. Yes, he had Marianne now, but they were used to ignoring each other when the constant company grew too much. Look how he hadn’t been able to ignore Serena....
A wife would likely be less distracting than Serena, he decided. That was a good thing. He would guarantee it by choosing a woman of mature, sober disposition like himself. Someone he could ignore. No, that didn’t sound right. Someone undemanding. Someone who knew how a marriage should rub along.
How dull, he could imagine Serena saying.
It would not be dull. It would be...nice. Yes. Nice.
There was a knock on the library door, and somehow, he knew it was Serena. Dominic stood, tugged his waistcoat down. “Come in.”
Serena stuck her head around the door, her eyes bright. “Dominic, the children are about to entertain your guests. Will you join us?”
“Entertain them? How on earth will they do that?”
“Their act is called Thomas and the Amazing Performing Lizard.” She grinned at what Dominic suspected was the horrified sag of his jaw. “Don’t worry,” she assured him, “there’s not a lizard in sight.”
“I wasn’t the slightest bit worried,” he murmured untruthfully.
“The children are to sing and play music,” she said.
Dominic pushed himself out of his chair. “Are you telling me the small fortune I’ve bestowed upon that music master is about to pay off?”
“Exactly so.” She beamed. “The young ones are involved in the act, too, and believe me, training them hasn’t been easy. But they’ve practiced every day and have come along beautifully.”
She’d just solved his problem: how to ensure his prospective brides saw his children in their best light. “Serena, you’re a gem,” he declared.
Which he probably oughtn’t to have done. But something about her unorthodox manners made him unorthodox, too.
She ducked her head. “I—I do think it’s nice for the future Mrs. Granville to see your children looking adorable and talented, don’t you?”
The future Mrs. Granville. The room felt suddenly too warm. This spring had been unseasonably humid.
Dominic rounded his desk. “Lead on, Miss Somerton.”
The switch between her Christian name and a more formal address seemed suddenly necessary, despite the fact they were alone. Or perhaps because they were alone. A situation that could be easily rectified, by joining the others in the drawing room.
“Mr. Granville, could I have a word with you after the children’s performance?” Serena asked, as she walked briskly alongside him.
“Certainly.” He could have slowed his pace to accommodate her. But right now that didn’t seem a good idea. Serena Somerton was the sort of woman who, if you accommodated her on one thing, would have you committed to who knows what the next minute.
The guests were already assembled in the drawing room, where the servants had set out three rows of chairs. Serena left Dominic at the doorway and went to collect the children.
When they trooped in, the ladies, old and young, sighed audibly. Dominic had to admit his offspring looked charming. They lined up in age order, scrubbed, combed, dressed in their best clothing, and bowed to the audience. He found himself smiling proudly.
“Mr. Granville, you have the most delightful children,” Mrs. Evans said.
At the front of the room, Serena cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Granville’s children will play and sing the old English melody ‘Scarborough Fair.’ Places, children.”
The way they moved directly
to where they should be was very impressive.
Please, Father, Serena prayed, let them do well. Let Dominic see how wonderful they are.
Her heart swelled as the children assumed their positions. They’d worked so hard the past two weeks, improved so much on their disastrous first attempt at the song.... Now they looked excited, but anxious—Charlotte the most anxious.
Serena hadn’t told Dominic about the vagrant yet. She’d decided it would be an acceptable compromise to wait until after today’s performance, on the condition that Charlotte promised not to go outside before it. Charlotte never made a promise she didn’t keep.
Serena nodded at Hetty, the signal to start. Hetty played the introduction that would cue the others in, and off they went.
Hetty fumbled the fifth chord, but—oh, dear, and that one, too.
Luckily, it was time for the harp and the flute to come in. Good girl, Charlotte. The harp joined in right on time. On the flute, Thomas just made it, too, and if the notes were breathy, it wasn’t too noticeable. And now the vocalists...
“Are you going...” Hetty and Charlotte sang.
“Are you going...” Unfortunately, the younger children came in half a beat late.
And half an octave off-key.
For the rest of the first verse, Serena listened in horror as William’s voice roamed up and down the scale without regard for the actual tune. In verse two, Louisa compensated for sudden amnesia as to the words with a loud “la-la-la.”
In the third verse, both younger children finally recognized Serena’s frown as a sign to fix their timing; they rushed the next few words out. And ended up half a beat ahead of the music.
At least Charlotte had both the words and the tune right, Serena thought wildly, as the song instructed some poor woman to wash her beloved’s shirt in a well with no water—what kind of man would demand such a stupid thing? But who could hear Charlotte, now that Hetty had decided to compensate for the youngsters’ vocal deficiencies by doubling her own volume? She clearly had no idea she’d always been the furthest from the mark, tunewise.
As the fourth and fifth verses alternately limped and galloped along, Serena braved a glance at the audience. Indulgent smiles had frozen like ancient Greek death masks. One gentleman was not very discreetly blocking his ears. Two ladies held their fans in front of their faces. At the back of the room, Marianne was brilliant red—with stifled laughter, Serena realized, outraged. She would deal with Aunt Marianne later.