Lady Rises (The Black Rose Trilogy Book 2)

by Renee Bernard

  Mrs. Osborne nodded slowly. “He must be stopped.”

  “I can and will stop him, madam. But let me be clear. I am a merciless thing and before I’m done, your James will wish that he had never been born. This is not a polite game of subtle pressure and silly strategies. I want him to suffer for what he’s done to your Dell and to all the women before her. Only the darkest flavor of vengeance will satisfy my appetite after hearing your tale and while a woman with a softer nature might flinch—I have no qualms about plotting a man’s destruction. There is no act or sin off the table or beyond consideration if it brings me closer to achieving what I want. None. Do you understand me, Mrs. Osborne?”

  Delilah Osborne was solemn and still. “You’ll destroy him.”

  It wasn’t a question but a quest for affirmation.

  “I will.”

  Mrs. Osborne took a larger swallow from her glass before setting it on the cart. “And what is the going rate for justice, Lady Wellcott?”

  “Mostly, its greatest cost is your pledge to keep our arrangements strictly secret. But once we have done as promised, then you will be a member in the Black Rose Reading Society and will vow to help any other member who approaches you with a need and to provide whatever they ask without question.” Serena quickly tossed back the contents of her own glass before setting it down next to Mrs. Osborne’s. “The Black Rose is a small women’s circle dedicated to helping one another with life’s more vexing problems. Where the law of the land turns a blind eye to the plight of women, the Black Rose Reading Society stands quietly ready to hear any petition and tries to act where we can.”

  “The Black Rose Reading Society. It all sounds so tidy,” Mrs. Osborne said quietly.

  “From one perspective, it is,” Serena conceded. “But from another…”

  “Consider yourself employed, Lady Wellcott.”

  Serena smiled. “Good.” She held out her hand to Mrs. Osborne. “We shall shake on it and call it a contract.”

  Mrs. Osborne took her hand shyly. “Just that? I’m not to…sign anything?” she asked.

  Serena shook her head. “There shall be no written trace of our agreement. Well, perhaps one small thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Are you still in London this late in the season or has your husband retreated to the country?” Serena asked.

  “We leave London tomorrow. Is that—a problem?” Delilah replied with a new flush of color in her cheeks.

  “Not at all. You must send me an invitation to visit your country estates, Mrs. Osborne. Tell your husband you have made a new friend in London and that I expressed an interest in your gardens.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Osborne said. “James will be quite impressed that I’ve managed a friendship with a lady of your station. He’s always accused me of lacking social ambition.”

  “Perfect.” Serena stood, this time effectively ending the visit. “I’ll see you again soon, Mrs. Osborne. I look forward to my country holiday.”

  “Thank you, Lady Wellcott. Thank you for—“

  “Don’t! Don’t thank me until I’ve honored my promises.”

  “As you wish.” Mrs. Osborne curtsied and left. “Good day, Lady Wellcott.”

  Serena sat for a few moments alone sifting through the implications of her new commitment and her own plans averted until Pepper cleared her throat from the open doorway. “Yes, Pepper. Let’s have it.”

  “Lucky chance, that.”

  “Lucky?” She smiled and shook her head slowly in subtle denial. “How am I lucky today?”

  “I struck a good conversation with your visitor’s driver and learned a great deal. It seems Mrs. Osborne was a Fitzpatrick before her wedding.”

  A strange icy tendril unfurled down Serena’s spine. “Make it plain.”

  “She is cousin to a Sir Phillip Warrick, your ladyship.”

  The world stopped and Serena stood in a rush, all the color draining from her cheeks. “You’re certain?”

  Pepper nodded. “As certain as I am of my own toes.”

  “Hellfire,” Serena’s fingers moved to touch the racing pulse at her throat. “There’s a twist.”

  “Do you—wish me to stay?”

  “No. I need a moment alone.” She turned away before the maid answered, confident of the woman’s loyalty and obedience. Her mind was racing as the past rushed in and robbed her of all her icy reserve.

  Damn.

  Phillip Warrick. Just your name and I am there again.

  In love.

  In loathing.

  God help me, it’s all there and all proof that I wasn’t an idiot for putting this off.

  For years, she’d done nothing but craft revenge for others, while quietly feeding her own need for justice. With every cruel twist, she’d imagined that it was her own satisfaction she’d achieved. But that fleeting joy never lasted.

  The only sound in the room was the tick of the clock over the mantelpiece and the drumming of her own heartbeat in her ears. She’d always prided herself on her planning and her control of every element in the new life she’d crafted, but luck had wrested away the illusion once and for all. Pepper was correct in crowing over the simple twist. Chance had brought things back around and if luck held, the world would right itself again.

  Not that I won’t neglect to lend it a hand.

  Serena deliberately took a few deep breaths and waited until the feeling finally uncurled inside of her.

  There.

  There it is. That first little hint of the thrill of the hunt.

  And the promise of joy.

  Chapter Three

  “Purgatory probably has better landscaping,” Phillip Warrick growled as he reined in his horse to stop some distance from his cousin’s house. He readjusted his hat and pressed one gloved hand against his eyes to fight off his fatigue.

  He hated the press of family obligations almost as much as he hated most of his family, but his great aunt was one of the few adorable exceptions and he held her esteem too dear to risk offense. Great Aunt Bella had written him a letter laced with gentle pleas that he make an effort underlined with nothing short of the steel of a general’s marching orders.

  “Go to your cousin’s for a visit. If I hear you’ve retreated to your Lake Country house without stopping, I shall demand your reasons in person, dear nephew. I am too old to make threats but be assured that I will cry nightly until I hear that my favorite boy has graced my grandson’s door.”

  “Tears,” he sighed. “God, why is it that at any age from nine to ninety, women always resort to tears.” His horse’s ears pricked back and the stallion neighed as if to reply, making Phillip laugh.

  “Yes, I know! Because it always works!” He spurred his mount to bring about a quick end to the journey. Truthfully, it wasn’t his relatives in particular he hated. It was the prying into his life and the endless pressure for him to “amend his ways” and marry as he should. The family had clung to the edges of the peerage for so long that ambition had become second nature for most of the Warricks. Since he’d been in long pants it had been made clear to him that his future required him to achieve some proper rich cow to uphold the family honor and fortify their status. He was the head of the family, or the head of the mess as he liked to call it and Phillip was expected to do his part to pull them up or at the very least, see to it that they didn’t slip any further down the social ladder.

  When he was younger, it had felt like a grand game. He’d even had romantic notions of finding a true love that would make everyone happy, most especially himself. But when that proved disastrous, he’d abandoned hope and given in to a life that largely omitted social tangles and instead focused entirely on managing his holdings.

  Except when it made Aunt Bella cry.

  The house came into view and Phillip drew up to an impromptu welcome as James Osborne came down the grand stone steps to greet him. “Cousin! Your arrival is nearly unprecedented in its anticipation since Homer wrote of the ‘Odyssey’! My
god, the women of the house are driving me mad with their speculation about your appearance!”

  Phillip grit his teeth but did his best to smile. “Then I’m sure to disappoint. Odysseus is mortal with mud on his boots and if you think for one moment I’m slaying anything more threatening than a good glass of brandy, you’ve lost your wits.”

  James’ laughter rang out and he clapped Phillip’s shoulder as if they were long lost companions. “There’s that wicked humor I remember. How long has it been?”

  “Two years since I was tricked into spending Christmas here because your grandmother made it sound like Cousin Delilah was dying. If I recall it right, she had a cold.”

  “Ah, your dear Grandmother! She does have a way with words!” James waved off the deception. “Well, you’ll be glad you’re here this time! It turns out that for once, my social connections may be improving—without your help, you cold-hearted bastard! We’ve another guest who’s arrived just a few days ago. My dull little wife has somehow lured out a titled young lady who is filthy rich by all accounts!” James smiled. “Perhaps you can apply some of that infamous charisma of yours and see about sweeping her off her feet!”

  Phillip gave him a quelling look, not only for his ham-fisted foray into matchmaking, but for the unkind remark about Delilah. He’d always liked his pretty cousin’s quiet ways and where everyone else made free with their scathing comments and judgments, Delilah simply made him welcome and ensured he had his favorite biscuits at tea time. “Where is the delightful Delilah? I must thank her for her correspondence and for the birthday gift. She was the only one to recall the day, did you know that?”

  James stiffened at the reprimand. “I believe she is in the music room with Lady Wellcott. As I said, Lady Wellcott is very—”

  “Enough of that! Lead on.” Phillip squared his shoulders. He’d meet the woman and be civil but he was not about to skip and dance at James’ direction.

  Southgate was a fine home if not the most impressive by the county’s standards. Phillip liked its layout and if he hadn’t made it a habit to keep his distance, he might have come more often for its comforts. James led him into the ivory room on the ground floor with its cheery view of the gardens

  “Look who I found, Delilah! Cousin Phillip is here and now the sighs can cease!” James spread his arms like a magician presenting a rabbit from his pockets.

  Delilah left her chair by the windows to rush toward him for the warmest of hugs. “Dear cousin, I am so glad to see you again!”

  “You grow lovelier each time.” He kissed her cheek and then froze as a figure in the corner of his vision also rose from her seat. It was a ghost who had mercilessly haunted his dreams but who had never before manifested so brazenly in his waking hours.

  Delilah mistook the shift in his attention and stepped back with a smile. “May I introduce you to my friend, Lady Serena Wellcott? Lady Wellcott, this is my cousin, Sir Phillip Warrick.”

  “Sir Warrick.” She gracefully held out her hand and he walked forward to take it, bowing stiffly over to brush his lips across flesh that he’d mourned as dead by a lonely roadside seven years ago.

  He nodded, his voice gone. It was surreal. Raven Wells was within reach, lovelier and more sensually potent than any woman had a right to be. The intervening years had heightened her powers, all of the soft edges of youth melting into a woman of incomparable beauty. Her ebony black hair was twisted up into a delicate crown of braids without a single curl out of place. The aristocratic features he had so admired were turned toward him, her serene countenance daring him to take note of porcelain skin without the insult of powders and lips the wickedest color of red coral. And her eyes…

  God, those eyes! How did I ever think to forget those icy gray eyes?

  It was clear that despite all his horrified conclusions of her fate after months of fruitless searching years ago; the lady had obviously flourished and landed on her feet.

  Like a cat.

  She laughed at something Delilah said and Phillip struggled to unclench his hands at his sides. The melody of her laughter threatened to unman him. He wanted to seize her shoulders and shake her, to punish her, to possess her, to demand an explanation, beg her for forgiveness and to hear her pleas for mercy and cries in regret at her betrayal. He wanted all those things at once and none of it was possible.

  “Phillip?” Delilah asked, a gentle touch on his arm relaying her concern. “Is everything all right?”

  One breath. His life turned on the edge of this moment. If he called her out, it would be like pulling a loose thread on a tapestry he could never repair. Confronting her was a fleeting option as she stood there, dressed like a duchess holding court while his dear cousin sat meekly at her side. It was clear that Delilah and her husband were enamored of the ‘grand lady’ in their midst, and it was all he could do not to shout his fury at the deception.

  But there was more to it than that.

  Because one look at him with those bewitching silvery eyes and it was as if time held still. Every desire he’d ever felt for her multiplied at the denial of years, the cruel loss she’d inflicted on him and the staggering guilt he still harbored at her destruction.

  There’s a tiger in the music room and they think she’s a housecat.

  “Everything is fine.” He forced himself to smile. “I’m just a bit mortified to meet your guest while I still have the mud of the road on my coat. James was so eager…”

  “Think nothing of it,” Lady Wellcott said. “Mud is nothing if not humbling and I’ve yet to meet a man who doesn’t improve with its touch.”

  His jaw tightened. “I do strive to improve.”

  Her smile sent a wicked shiver of hunger and anger down his spine. “Don’t lose heart, Sir Warrick. Admitting that you fall short is half of the battle, is it not?”

  “Phillip does not fall short by any means.” Delilah came to his defense. “He is all that is noble and worthy in my eyes.”

  “Is he indeed?” Lady Wellcott said, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.

  “I am sure you will become good friends,” Delilah said. “Phillip is very dear to me.”

  “Of course he is,” James said, openly displeased. “God, are we really going to stand about and discuss how wonderful your cousin is? This is tedious conversation for a man to bear, ladies.”

  “I’m happy to leave off,” Phillip said quickly then took a step back. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see about changing my clothes. Improvement or no, these splashes of humility on my boots are not adding to the beauty of your music room.” He bowed slightly and risked one last look at Lady Serena Wellcott. “I so look forward to further conversation, your ladyship.”

  And to wiping that arrogant smile off of your face, Raven Wells.

  She nodded her head, a phantom of a salute to demonstrate her good breeding. “Sir Warrick. A pleasure to meet you.”

  Innocuous words but at the sound of the word ‘pleasure’ on her ripe lips, Phillip’s stomach spasmed with heat. Damn it! This is ridiculous!

  He couldn’t answer her, so he turned and left without another word, cursing the sensation that he was trapped in a social nightmare. Phillip had never told anyone in his family of his affair with Raven Wells. The witnesses at the party had all naturally assumed that there had been some falling out between the pair when their departure from Oakwell Manor had not been followed by a marriage announcement. The few questions he’d faced had been easy to deter and Phillip cringed now recalling how he had lied and said that the lady had changed her mind and broken the engagement.

  The story guaranteed him the listener’s sympathy but also an end to the conversation since no one wanted to push a man on such a painful subject. No one had ever pressed him on what might have become of the lady and Phillip endured the silence, hiding his heartache.

  And now as she manifested in his cousin’s house, he saw what a mistake it was to have harbored that secret. Raven Wells had used the time to reinvent herself and perfect her craft. T
here were hardly any traces of the impulsive smiling girl he’d kissed in a gazebo and pursued with a singular madness.

  Working some scheme, pretending to be something she is not and setting everyone around her up like pins in a bowling game.

  Chapter Four

  “How are you faring, Mrs. Osborne?” Serena said as she set her parasol on her shoulder to shield any view of their conversation from the house. The women had set out on a stroll in Southgate’s gardens and it was the perfect setting for a private exchange.

  “I wish I could say,” Delilah replied. “I was so terrified that James would question your visit or suspect something. But it has gone so well, so why then do I feel no relief? Only more concern that I’ve pulled another woman into this mess?”

  “It is only natural to experience anxiety.” Serena allowed a few moments to pass, the rhythmic crunch of the gravel path a strange music underneath it all. “But I am settled in and welcomed by your husband without a ripple of resistance.”

  “No ripple except for Cousin Phillip.” Delilah smiled. “I never expected him to accept my invitation and apparently he thinks this all some grand matchmaking scheme. I apologize, Lady Wellcott. My family has hounded him for years on the matter and he is surly when he is cornered.”

  “Ah! Poor man,” Serena said as warmly as she could. “It is a relief to think I have not given offense to Sir Warrick.”

  “Oh, no! I cannot imagine such a thing! I’m sure it is only his stubborn attachment to bachelorhood that inspired his social lapse at your introduction. But I can assure you that Phillip is the kindest of men and a true gentleman.”

  Serena was forced to pretend to be diverted by a nearby rose bush. “Of course. In any case, we shall be happy for the distraction when it comes to your husband. With male company to divert him, I have more latitude to act.”