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‘Mistress Carberry, I am honoured to meet you.’ Kit’s eyes met hers with amusement as he bowed with a grand, sweeping gesture.
‘Lord Brodie,’ she acknowledged.
‘Don’t be disheartened,’ he murmured, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. His dark eyes, holding hers, sparkled with humour when he felt her fingers tremble involuntarily on coming into contact with his lips—which told him she was not altogether as in control of her senses as she would like him to think. ‘You are forgiven.’
Snatching her fingers from his strong hold, Serena favoured him with a sweet smile and feigned a slight curtsy. ‘Thank you, sir. I apologise for keeping you waiting.’
‘You are forgiven,’ Kit replied, his voice deeply resonant, his eyes, openly unabashed, displaying their appraisal of her attire as they travelled the full length of her body. ‘The wait was well worth it,’ he murmured.
Kit’s perusing eye left no curve untouched, no article of clothing intact, until Serena felt completely naked. She felt a sudden impulse to retreat before his smouldering gaze, but held her ground admirably.
‘We are waiting to eat, Serena,’ said her father with impatience, unaware of the secret play that was taking place between the other two as he led the way into the dining room. ‘The meal is getting cold.’
With reluctance Serena placed her slender fingers on Lord Brodie’s gallantly proferred arm to be escorted into the dining room. Feeling his gaze on her face, she looked up at him inquiringly. ‘Is something troubling you, my lord?’
‘Forgive me. I do not mean to stare, but you seem familiar. I have a rather peculiar feeling that we have met somewhere before. But then, I ask myself, how can that be? I am not one to forget a face—especially not when one is as unforgettable as yours.’
Kit spoke casually, his words faintly teasing and meaningful. In alarm Serena’s fingers tightened on his arm and she threw him a savage look, appalled that he might be about to betray her misdemeanour to her father when she had begged him not to. Earlier, her qualms had been eased by his promise not to speak of the incident, and she was incensed that he should continue to find so much humour in what, to her, had been the most brutal and embarrassing experience of her entire life.
‘I can assure you we have not met before,’ she answered firmly.
Kit smiled calmly into her glare, a corner of his lips lifting roguishly. ‘No? Then I must take your word for it.’
‘Perhaps it’s the likeness my daughter bears to Dorothea,’ said Sir Henry, with a low chuckle. ‘They are very much alike.’
Bemused, Serena glanced from one to the other. ‘Dorothea? Do you know my cousin, Lord Brodie?’
‘Kit has recently become betrothed to Dorothea, Serena,’ her father explained. ‘No doubt she will tell you all about it when you visit Carberry Hall in a day or so.’
Serena stared at Kit in astonishment, and so amazed was she at this announcement that she almost overstepped the bounds of decorum and laughed out loud. It was impossible to believe that this overbearing man was to marry her gentle cousin. Her eyes were bright with humour as they met his with disbelief. ‘You? You are to marry Dorothea?’
Kit’s black eyebrows lowered in a frown. ‘You find it amusing that I am to marry your cousin?’
‘I find it strange and intriguing that someone as fainthearted as Dorothea would agree to wed someone so—so—’
Kit raised a questioning eyebrow, watching her closely. ‘So what?’
‘So very different from the type of man I expected her to settle for.’
‘And do you find it so incredible that she has settled for me?’
‘Yes. I can only think that my cousin must have taken leave of her senses.’
A smile touched Kit’s lips. ‘I can assure you she has not.’
‘Nevertheless, you cannot know each other well, otherwise she would have mentioned you to me.’
‘And you see your cousin often, do you, Mistress Carberry?’
Serena had not seen Dorothea for several weeks. Dorothea’s father, William Carberry, and Serena’s own father were half-brothers, their father having married twice. William, the elder of the two, like his mother was staunchly Protestant and had a strong dislike for the Catholic religion. Over the years this had been the cause of much contention between the two brothers and was deeply felt by Serena, who resented her uncle’s lack of tolerance. Serena and Dorothea were close, but of late, because of the volatile situation that existed between Uncle William and her father, and knowing that whenever she went to Carberry Hall her uncle tolerated her presence only out of family duty, Serena had not visited her cousin.
‘Of late I have not seen Dorothea,’ she replied quietly, on a more serious note. ‘I wish you both every imaginable happiness. You are indeed fortunate in your choice of bride, sir.’
Kit looked at her thoughtfully, curious as to the sudden change in her. ‘I couldn’t agree with you more. In the short time I have known Dorothea, I find her to be an exceptional woman.’
‘I know she is,’ Serena agreed.
Kit held the heavy, high-backed chair as she slipped into it. As the meal progressed and Sir Henry conversed about political matters, Serena was aware of his guest’s unrelenting stare. Meeting his gaze, she found in his black eyes a glowing intensity and a slow, brazen perusal that brought the colour mounting to her cheeks and ire to burn through her.
Having him so close was agonisingly distasteful to her. Bestowing on him a cool stare, she tried her best to ignore him, but it was difficult when he sat directly in her sights. The man bedevilled her. He was insufferable and doing his best to antagonise her. Clenching her teeth in irritation, she tried concentrating on her food until she was drawn into the conversation by her father.
‘You know Kit is here to look over our horses, don’t you, Serena?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled, glancing at her father at the end of the table.
‘It’s my intention to purchase three or four of your finest mares available to replenish my stable at Thurlow—if they are as magnificent as they are reputed to be,’ Kit said.
‘I don’t think you will be disappointed,’ Serena told him, ‘although, had you come two weeks ago you would have had more to choose from.’
Kit glanced at her sharply. ‘Oh?’
‘Yes. Several are promised to Mr Grant and Sir Robert Catesby—isn’t that so, Father?’
Sir Henry suddenly looked discomfited and coughed nervously, causing Kit’s brow to become furrowed with a deep frown as he contemplated his host. No comment was made, but Serena had a peculiar feeling that her father would rather she had kept quiet about the matter. She also sensed that Lord Brodie had taken particular note of what had been said and that he would not forget it.
At the time she had been curious when Sir Robert and Mr Grant from Norbrook—Mr Grant’s home at nearby Snitterfield—had come to look over the horses, purchasing twenty of a strong and heavy breed. When she had inquired of her father afterwards the reason for the purchase, he had told her that Catesby was to form a troop of horse to enter the service of the archdukes in the Spanish Netherlands.
Knowing this was legal since the peace with Spain the previous year, Serena’s curiosity had been appeased. But, as she recalled Andrew’s words of warning, a feeling of disquiet settled on her. She prayed her father had not become involved in something she knew nothing about.
‘Are you acquainted with Robert Catesby?’ Serena asked in an attempt to cover the awkward moment.
‘I am. As your father may have told you, I have only recently come into my inheritance at Thurlow on the death of my cousin. It was necessary for me to spend some time in London to attend Parliament until it was prorogued until November. The lodgings I took in the Strand were adjacent to Catesby’s.’
‘And what was your opinion of him?’
Kit smiled and his eyes twinkled at Serena. ‘He is certainly a popular gentleman.’
‘And handsome, too,’ chuckled Sir Henry. ‘At least my daughter thought so when last she saw him.’
‘Father!’ gasped Serena, hot colour flooding her cheeks. Wasn’t it enough Lord Brodie knowing she was involved with Thomas Blackwell without adding another to the list?
Kit laughed good-humouredly. ‘I’m not surprised. Robert—or Robin as he is called among his friends—in spite of his rather headstrong disposition is an irresistible charmer and very much admired. He left London for Stratford with some associates at the same time as myself.’
Kit had spent many long hours in the company of Robert Catesby, an ardent Catholic, whilst in London. He was a likeable man with a dominant personality, and deeply involved with religious malcontents. Kit had been present at several of their gatherings when they had met at the Mermaid or the Mitre Inn on Bread Street. A silent, curious observer, he had supped with them whilst thinking it prudent not to become too involved. Their conversations had been discreet, but he sensed a strong agitation manifesting itself, and felt that something might occur during the next session of Parliament.
‘You are to visit Dorothea, I understand,’ Kit remarked to Serena. Turning the conversation to more pleasurable topics, he thrust unpleasant thoughts of conspiracies, which were forever being hatched against the king, from his mind.
‘She is expecting me tomorrow afternoon. I am to stay at Carberry Hall for a few days. In the light of your betrothal we shall have lots to catch up on.’
‘Then you will still be there when I call on Dorothea and Sir William before I have to return to Thurlow,’ Kit said, a smile touching his lips and his eyes taking on a new gleam as her bewitching beauty fed his gaze. The light of the tapers illuminated her to advantage, and he found himself dwelling with a good deal of pleasure on the tantalising vision she presented across the table.
Having hoped that when he left for Woodfield Grange she would not have to see him again, Serena was disappointed and extremely vexed that she might. ‘Perhaps.’ She met his dark eyes with resentment, thinking furiously that even though he was aware of her dislike he was amused by it. Shoving her chair back, she intended leaving the gentlemen to drink their port in peace, but her father halted her.
‘Eliza informs me you that you intend riding early in the morning, Serena?’
Serena had decided to forgo her ride and have one of the servants go to the stables to tell John not to bother saddling her horse after all. Not even an early morning ride over her beloved heath could tempt her to ride in the company of Lord Brodie.
‘That—that was my intention,’ she said hesitantly, ‘but I—’
‘Then you can accompany Kit,’ her father said quickly before she could finish what she was about to say. ‘Forgive me if I don’t accompany you,’ he apologised to his guest, ‘but you will find that not only is my daughter an excellent horsewoman, but she also knows as much about the horses as I do myself. John will also be on hand to assist you and tell you anything you wish to know.’
Serena looked at her father in alarm. Usually he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to show off his horses. ‘What is it, Father? You’re not ill?’
‘Nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t cure.’ Sir Henry laughed lightly in an attempt to allay his daughter’s concern—but the truth of the matter was that his joints pained him a great deal—especially now the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Unfortunately, his sufferings were a lasting legacy of the year he had spent in the Tower at Queen Elizabeth’s pleasure.
‘I fear that an early ride will put me out of sorts for the hunt later—and I have no wish to disappoint Lord Payne by not turning up. If you find a horse to your liking, Kit, try him out at the hunt—or you are more than welcome to take mine. He’s a strong, spirited brute, but I’m sure the two of you will get along.’
‘That’s generous of you, Sir Henry,’ Kit said, easing back in his chair, his heavy-lidded gaze speculative as his dark eyes leisurely watched the tension and emotion play across Serena’s expressive face, sensing she had been about to cancel riding out early to avoid his company.
He reserved little hope of establishing any kind of peace between them, for she glared at him as if it would be pistols at dawn and she contemplated a duel to the death, instead of a gallop upon the heath. A mocking smile curved his lips and he found himself looking forward to his ride with this intriguing young woman, although he told himself there was a dire need for caution.
‘I am honoured to have Mistress Carberry accompany me,’ he murmured. ‘It will be a privilege.’
The subtle way Lord Brodie’s smile changed was not to Serena’s liking. Irate sparks flared in her bright green eyes as she thought how easily she had been snared, and she lowered her eyes to hide her annoyance, standing up.
‘Very well. I will see you in the morning, Lord Brodie.’
Beset by emotions quite new to her, Serena went to her room. She was seized by a biting, raging fear at the knowledge that the marquess of Thurlow, having been privy to her degradation earlier, was enjoying every moment of her misery and was determined to play it out to the bitter end.
Chapter Three
When the light of dawn was struggling to show itself, Serena rose and went to the stables. The weather was blustery, cold and wet, which suited her mood. The sharp air sent shivers along her flesh, but the stables were a cheery glow of lantern light against the dark, unwelcoming exterior.
As the familiar warm smell of hay assailed her nostrils, she found the stables were already a hive of industry. Under the watchful eye of John, the stablemaster, on Sir Henry’s instructions the stable lads and grooms had been hard at it for over an hour to have the horses ready for the marquess’s inspection at first light. John hurried over to Serena, his shirt open down the front to reveal his barrel chest.
Pulling on her kid gloves and with her crop tucked beneath her arm, Serena paused beside a mare which had been led out of its stall and was being held by one of the grooms. She was vaguely aware that someone was on the other side of it, but because he was hidden from view she paid scant attention. ‘Good morning, John,’ she greeted him. ‘Such as it is. I’ve known better mornings for riding over the heath.’
‘Aye, the rain looks set in for the day, miss—but I know it’ll take more than that to put you off your ride.’ John chuckled. Having known Serena since birth, ever since Sir Henry had introduced her to the horses as a toddler, he was aware that riding had become her abiding passion.
‘I shall be leaving just as soon as our guest stirs himself. Is Polly saddled?’
‘She’s all ready for you—but the marquess has been here for the past half hour looking over the horses.’
Serena stared at him in astonishment. ‘He has?’
‘Yes,’ replied the marquess, rearing up from the other side of the mare, startling Serena almost out of her wits. ‘I was impatient to see for myself your father’s splendid horses. I couldn’t sleep, anyway,’ he said, almost as an afterthought, as he ran practised hands over the horse he was inspecting.
Disappointed that he had reached the stables ahead of her, Serena stood and calmly watched Lord Brodie examine the horse in silence. He stood back and looked at it from every angle, picking up a hoof and going on to examine its teeth with a thoroughness that did not surprise her. She sensed that everything the marquess did would be controlled, certain and sure. Distracted, she saw he had removed his doublet, and that his white silk shirt was open at the throat to reveal the strong muscles of his neck.
He had the supple body of an athlete, vigorous and arresting, and with his wicked smile and shoulder-length raven black hair—a rogue wave spilled over his brow and shone like glass in the lantern light—Serena thought he would have made the most handsome pirate. His tight hose detailed his narrow hips and tautly muscled buttocks, bringing a flush to her maidenly cheeks.
Satisified, Kit slapped the horse’s flank, nodding for the lad holding it to take it back to its stall, before giving Serena his full attention. Observing the soft flush on her cheeks, he raised a questioning eyebrow and studied her for a long, drawn-out moment. A slow smile curved his lips. The sparkle in his eyes gradually evolved into a rakish gleam, and Serena’s flush deepened. She had no way of discerning the workings of Lord Brodie’s mind or where his imagination wandered.
‘I’m sorry to have dragged you from your bed at such an early hour,’ Kit said, his gaze unyielding. There was a suave, almost teasing note in his voice.
Collecting her crumbling poise and wanting to shatter his cocksure arrogance, Serena gave him a steely flash from her green eyes. ‘You didn’t,’ she replied curtly. Looking at him with a stilted coolness, she tried to overcome the resentment she felt, although why she should feel such antipathy towards him when he had rescued her from being brutally ravished by Thomas Blackwell confused her. ‘I’m in the habit of rising early to ride before breakfast. I’m sorry you had difficulty sleeping. The bed was comfortable, I hope.’
‘Perfect. It was the noise of the storm that kept me awake.’
‘And the horses? What do you think of them?’
‘Splendid,’ Kit replied, casting an appraising eye down the length of the stable. ‘Their reputation has not been exagerated. John has been helpful in showing me those which are available.’
‘And? Are you interested in purchasing any?’
‘There are three I have my eye on—good, strong mares. I have a stallion from a good strain, big and in his prime. I’m keen to breed off him, which is why I want only the finest mares. I’ll have a word with Sir Henry over breakfast.’ Retrieving his doublet which was draped over a stall, he thrust his arms into the sleeves. ‘Having decided to reserve my own horse for the hunt, I have taken the liberty of having one of the lads saddle your father’s horse—one he won’t be riding in the hunt, I’ve been told. You are up to riding in weather such as this, I hope,’ he said, throwing her a challenging look.
Serena bristled. ‘I never allow weather to put me off my ride.’
‘Shall I accompany you, Mistress Carberry?’ John inquired.
Much as she hated the idea of riding out alone with the marquess, Serena could see John was much too busy to leave the stables. ‘That won’t be necessary, John. I’m sure I shall be perfectly safe with Lord Brodie,’ she said, cracking the crop against her skirts and moving to the stall where her mare Polly was waiting.
On seeing her mistress, Polly responded by arching her neck and whickering gently. One of the lads led her out into the yard followed by another leading a huge stallion. It was Monarch, Sir Henry’s horse, black and as smooth as silk, with a long flowing mane and tail. Kit ran his hands over its quivering flanks.
‘He’s a splendid horse,’ he breathed admiringly.
‘Yes—my father’s. Andrew also rides him when…’ Serena faltered, biting her lip to stem the flow or words. She was usually so careful not to speak of her brother to strangers.
Kit looked at her with a keen eye. ‘Your brother! You can speak of him to me, Mistress Carberry. He is a priest, I believe.’
‘Yes,’ she replied crisply, looking away. ‘He’s in Italy at present.’
‘I know. Out of harm’s way.’
Stung by his remark even though it had been spoken lightly, and ever sensitive about her brother’s profession, Serena swung her head to look at him, on the defensive. Sparks of indignation flashed in her eyes, sorely incensed by what she thought Lord Brodie might be implying. ‘My brother is no coward, Lord Brodie.’
‘I did not imply that he was, and I hold nothing against him. I am merely saying that he would be wise to stay where he is. It’s no secret that Catholic priests are being hunted the length and breadth of the country and are dealt with most severely when caught.’
A deep pain entered Serena’s eyes, her expression suddenly one of anguish. ‘Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t know the fate that awaits my brother if he were to return to England? Which is why I hope and pray he remains in Rome. At least there I know he is safe.’
Towering over her, Kit’s lean, hard face bore no hint of humour or mockery. ‘I apologise if my words offended or distressed you. It was not intentional, I do assure you. Now—shall we go?’
Kit locked his hands together to accept Serena’s small booted foot, and was not surprised at the agility she displayed when he raised her up to the side-saddle, where she sat arranging her skirts while he strode towards his own mount.
Serena threw him a look as he hoisted himself into the saddle, seeing Monarch bunch his muscles and flare his nostrils. She smiled, wondering if she was about to see the arrogant marquess of Thurlow stripped of his dignity and tossed into a puddle on his backside.
‘Take care, my lord. Monarch is not usually pleased at having strangers ride him. He is swift and also temperamental. You have to show him who is master right from the start. He’s thrown many a stranger who sits on his back.’
