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Inevitably his mind returned to the image of her yesterday lying wanton in the hay, her hair fanned out, brighter gold than the supporting bales, her creamy flesh flushed. He couldn’t wait to plunge into the hot wet core of her, to feel her tight around him, to… Damnation! He was fantasising like a school boy. If he continued in this vein he was in for another night like the last one, tortured by adolescent fantasies and frustrated with longing.
Looking at the clock on the mantel, he realised that it was almost dinner time. Tomorrow he would make sure their love-making was not interrupted. Tonight he would have to content himself with trying not to think about what that would entail.
Hughes arrived with the stack of newspapers and the day’s post. There was a letter from Frances Eldon at last. Nicholas opened it with a smile of anticipation. As he quickly scanned the neatly crossed pages his smile faded. By the time he had finished, his face was a mask of fury.
He was waiting for her on the front steps of the Hall the next morning. The day was dry but cold, making Serena glad of the warm woollen cloak she wore over her dress of pale blue muslin. At the sight of Nicholas’s tall figure her heart did a little flip of excitement. It was all very well to tell herself that they must never share so much as another kiss. Faced with the man himself, her will power weakened.
You are not the only one anxious for a resolution. His parting words to her yesterday. Excitement turned to anxiety, which dissolved into dread when she saw his face. No sign of his usual careless smile, his mouth was drawn into a tight line and he was frowning, his eyes a cold slate grey that seemed to glitter like polished granite. ‘Is there something wrong, Nicholas?’
She faltered to a halt on the step below him. He looked down, his eyes travelling slowly over her, from her face, sweeping down her neck, the length of her body, with contempt. An icy coldness clutched at her heart. ‘Nicholas?’
‘Come in. There’s coffee waiting,’ he said curtly, preceding her into the house, giving her no choice but to follow him, hastily abandoning her bonnet and cloak to Hughes’s care.
They sat opposite each other in front of the fire as was their custom. The clock ticked on the mantel. Outside, the sun danced in and out of scudding clouds, slanting shadows of light and dark onto the polished wooden floors. Everything familiar, in its usual place, yet somehow nothing felt the same.
Nicholas’s brows met, giving him the look of a brooding devil. The long fingers of his right hand drummed a slow beat on the arm of his chair. He sat with careless grace, his long legs, clad today in tightly fitting pantaloons and polished Hessians, sprawled out in front of him, but there was no mistaking the tension in him. He was coiled. Ready to spring. And Serena felt horribly like his prey.
His mood alarmed her, all the more because he had himself so tightly under control. She carefully replaced her half-full coffee cup on the tray lest her shaking hands betray her. Nicholas had not touched his. The clock ticked.
‘Alone at last, Serena,’ Nicholas said, looking positively predatory.
She managed an uncertain smile.
‘I’ve given Hughes instructions to deny me to any callers. What with Farmer Jeffries and then Charles, I think we’ve had too many interruptions lately, don’t you?’
Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips. ‘Nicholas, I…’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Nervous, Serena? There’s no need to be. Surely our experience in the barn was sufficient to prove that the conclusion to our little idyll here will be pleasurable—on your part, at least. We have yet to determine how I will like it.’
Colour flooded her face and drained just as quickly, leaving her ashen. ‘Why are you being so beastly?’
‘You’re tense. We should do something to help you relax. A game of piquet, perhaps? Or what about dice? I’m sure Papa taught you how to load the bones as well as how to fix the cards.’
‘I don’t cheat.’
‘Oh, but you do, Serena. You have been cheating me since the day you turned up on my doorstep.’ He stood, the tension in him blatantly obvious now, in the way he clenched his fists by his side, the way he held his shoulders rigid. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a letter. ‘I had this from Frances Eldon, my man of business, yesterday. Combined with your uncle’s announcement in the Morning Post and your own revelations, it has helped to make a lot of things much clearer.’
She realised at once that it was too late. If he knew from someone else what she should have told him from the first, he would never forgive her. ‘You had your man of business investigate me,’ she said flatly.
Nicholas coloured. ‘Since you were so sparing with the truth I had no option.’
She stood up shakily. ‘Don’t say you had no option, it’s not true. You could have waited. I came today to tell you, but I see there is no need, your Mr Eldon has saved me the trouble of a confession.’
‘You lied to me.’
‘You did not trust me,’ she flung at him, her temper flaring. ‘And I did not lie to you, Nicholas. I may have misled you, but you were perfectly happy for me to do so.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘You claim you were suspicious of me from the start. Suspicious enough to have someone investigate me. But you never asked me. You never said, Serena, I’m not sure about this story of yours.’
‘Would you have told me?’
‘Yes! No! Probably. It doesn’t matter, you didn’t ask because you didn’t want to know. And then when I found my papers, the same thing. I would have told you straight away, even before I had read them, if you had pressed me. But you did not. Instead you suggested a day’s grace.’
‘Which you were more than happy to agree to.’
She nodded and took a calming breath. ‘Yes. Yes, I was. It was wrong, I knew it was wrong, but I agreed because I wanted…’ She blushed, but forced herself to continue. ‘Because I wanted what happened in the barn. Now I know it was a terrible mistake.’
Her admission threw him. He reached for her, but she stepped back. ‘No, Nicholas. It’s too late now. I must go. I should have gone two days ago.’
‘Sit down, Serena,’ Nicholas said coldly, ‘you don’t get off so lightly. I want to hear it for myself. All of it.’
She would rather do almost anything, but she owed it to him, and he was mostly in the right, so she sat down, stiff-backed, hands clutched tight together in a bitter parody of their first meeting. Nicholas sat down too, his gaze unwavering. That look of his that made her feel he could read her mind.
‘Well, as you have obviously surmised, Papa made his money from gambling. Gaming salons, but I assure you he was neither a cheat nor a sharp.’As she sketched a picture of their life, she watched Nicholas watching her, but his face gave away nothing. ‘We followed the wars, for where there are wars there are officers and hangers-on and plenty of money,’ she continued. ‘Most recently we settled in Paris.’
‘And you, did you preside over the tables?’
Despite the circumstances, the very idea forced a smile from her. ‘Hardly. I’ve told you several times, Papa was extremely protective. He forbade me from entering the salons when they were open. I was his hostess at private parties—when he played for pleasure with his particular friends, all older men, respectable men. I played too, sometimes. And of course, I practised with him.’
‘A fine education for you!’ He was unaccountably angry on her behalf. ‘What about the dangers you must have been exposed to, the sights you must have seen, the type of men you must have met?’
‘It wasn’t like that. You don’t understand.’
‘No, I don’t. What did he intend for you, your sainted papa? You’re—what, twenty-two, twentythree? Did he not wish to see you settled?’
‘I’m almost five and twenty. Of course he wanted to see me settled, that’s why I am here. He would have brought me himself if it was not for the war.’
‘That is complete nonsense, he could have returned any time if he’d really wanted to. Your father sounds to me like a selfish bastard.’
Serena was silent. Papa had explained, but even then, through the grief of knowing he had only a few hours left to live, his excuses had sounded weak to her ears. It had been more than thirty years, after all. ‘You’re right, he was a little set in his ways. I suppose the truth was that he had grown used to his life and did not wish to be constrained by his responsibilities in England.’
‘His life as the Earl of Vespian.’
‘Yes, my father was Lord Vespian.’
‘Which makes you the Lady Serena—assuming, of course, that a marriage actually took place between your parents. Was there one?’
She cast him a wounded look. ‘Of course there was.’
He was unrepentant. ‘I’m only saying what everyone else will ask. Charles did say it was curious, your need to prove your identity.’
‘You told Charles all this? You had no right.’
‘Charles won’t say anything. He liked you.’
‘Well, I’m relieved to know that someone does.’ Serena reached for her reticule and pulled out a small leather pouch, which she handed to him. ‘I thought my father was being excessively cautious, but he insisted I should have this as well as the legal documents.’
Nicholas undid the ties. Inside was a ring, intricately worked in gold, a strange antique setting wrought around a large black pearl. Frowning, he traced a long finger over the pattern. ‘An heirloom, I presume,’ he said, returning the ring to its pouch and handing it back to Serena.
‘Another of his deathbed bequests,’ she said with intentional irony. ‘I’ve to give it to my uncle. It seems it is always worn by the heir to the earldom.’
Nicholas strode over to the window. In the brief time they had spent together the narcissi had started to fade, the cherry blossom to fall. In the distance he could see a horse and plough readying a field for planting. He had been beguiled, even Charles had spotted it. Locked away from the world, he had been careless of everything save the overwhelming attraction between them, the shared laughter, the gravitation of their bodies towards each other. He had been happy. And no matter what she claimed, he had also been duped.
A gust of rage seized him. ‘Tell me, Lady Serena,’ he said, turning back from the window to the beautiful deceiver sitting in front of the fire, ‘just why you felt it so necessary to keep your real identity a secret.’
‘You know why.’
‘I’d like to hear it from you.’
Her knuckles where white, so tightly was she gripping them. ‘Very well, if I must. I did not tell you because I knew that while you would be happy enough to dally with Mademoiselle Cachet of no particular place and no particular family, you would run a mile from Lady Serena Stamppe. I needed to find my father’s papers. You only helped because you were bored and you thought I was fair game. You would not have thought Lady Serena fair game, would you, Nicholas? And I would not then have found my father’s will. I don’t know why you’re making me say this—no doubt you wish to humiliate me. No doubt I deserve it—but do not paint yourself as whiter than white in this tawdry episode.’
‘I did not think you fair game, as you call it. How dare you!’
‘You hardly treated me as you would a respectable female.’
‘You hardly gave me grounds to do so. The first time I set eyes on you, you kissed me while I was half-naked in front of a crowd of spectators.’
‘You kissed me!’ She flung herself to her feet. ‘And then you kissed me again, here in this very room.’
‘You didn’t put up much of a fight.’
‘Oh, how dare you. How dare you! You turn everything to your own account. I came alone here because I am alone. What relatives I have don’t even know I exist yet. I thought I was calling on a man my father’s age. You made it perfectly clear from the start that you didn’t think my papers existed, or if they did that they had long been lost. I’ve told you, time and again I’ve told you, that I led a sheltered life, yet you chose not to believe that either. You talked about the rules of the game, and not playing if you couldn’t pay, and no commitment, at every opportunity so that I knew—how could I not—that you would consign me to the ends of the earth if you found out that I was the type of female who could be compromised.’
‘That explains why you lied, it does not explain why you let me make love to you. The other day—in the barn—I gave you every opportunity to say no. Dammit, Serena, you know I did.’
‘Yes, you did,’ she whispered. ‘And I didn’t. I should have, but I didn’t. I don’t know what came over me. I was not thinking straight. I thought I could play to your rules, that I could indulge in what you call a spring idyll, but I realise that I am not, after all, the type to treat such affaires lightly. It meant nothing to you, but I discovered it should mean something to me.’
‘You left it rather late in the day to discover something so fundamental. There is a name for that type of behaviour, but I will not sully your ears with it.’
Serena recoiled as if he had hit her, but met his gaze resolutely. ‘I deserved that. I know how it must look, but it was not my intention to—I mean, it was my intention to—what I mean is, at the time I meant it. But afterwards, I realised that I risked throwing away my chances of future happiness with someone else. Throwing it away on someone who did not—would never—offer me what I want.’
‘Marriage, of course,’ Nicholas said disgustedly. ‘I should have known you weren’t really that different from the rest of your sex. Well, you’ll be able to take your unsullied pick now, Lady Serena.’
‘Yes, I will,’ she said, finally driven by hurt to goad him. ‘I’m not only titled, I’m vastly wealthy too, you know. An heiress and a lady—you’re right, I will be able to take my pick.’
Charles had been right. The perfect candidate, he’d called Serena, and that was before he knew all. That Frances Eldon had also urged matrimony on his employer in his latest epistle added fuel to the flames. ‘I hope you will be more honest with the poor clunch, whoever he turns out to be, than you were with me. Will you tell him that he’s taking a lying, scheming, card-sharping temptress to his bed? Will you tell him that he’s not the first to touch you? To kiss you? To make you cry out with pleasure? Or will you play the innocent virgin with him? I warn you, you will have to polish up your act a bit if you do. Respond to him as you did to me, and he will not believe you any more than I do.’
Serena flinched. ‘You don’t mean that, Nicholas. You know I wasn’t acting.’
‘I know that I am the one left aching with frustration, while you at least were satisfied,’ Nicholas responded crudely. ‘All I’ve been thinking about, day and night, is you, you, you. The vision of you lying there with your hair undone haunts me. And now it will always haunt me. I will never be rid of you,’ he said heatedly, grabbing Serena by the shoulders. ‘Don’t you see what you’ve done? Because I will never have you I will always be imagining what might have been.’
He pulled her towards him and kissed her roughly. His lips were hard on hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. She could smell the scent of his soap, feel his breath warm on her skin, sense the barely controlled anger in the tension of his fingers bruising the soft flesh at the top of her arms.
It was a punishing kiss, a possessive kiss, the hungry kiss of desire too long pent up. It was the kiss of a man intent on slaking his thirst. Then suddenly it was a passionate kiss. Unable to stop herself, Serena responded, kissing him back urgently, meeting fire with fire. Nicholas groaned, releasing his grip to slide his arms around her, pulling her close into the hard length of his body. Then abruptly she was free. ‘It would have been better for us both if your father had left his papers with a lawyer.’
‘You wish we had never met?’
‘With a passion.’
‘Don’t be like this, Nicholas, don’t let us part on such terms.’
‘For God’s sake, what other terms can there be?’
‘We are both overwrought. You think I have deceived you, but I have not. I’m the same person I was when first we met. A title does not change who I am. I admit, I did not tell you the whole truth, but I did not lie to you. And as to what has happened between us—you have not broken your rules. Your conscience is clear, you did not take anything I was not willing to give, and thanks to the arrival of your tenant, I did not give you enough to be truly compromised.’ She managed a watery smile.
Her willingness to absolve him from the blame he suspected he deserved melted Nicholas’s anger, leaving him feeling strangely empty. He saw she was making a valiant attempt not to cry, and felt guilt perch like a brooding raven on his shoulder. ‘Go and pack,’ he said gruffly, struggling to resist the desire to pull her back into his arms. ‘I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow.’
‘Don’t be foolish, Nicholas. I’ll hire a chaise. I won’t be more than a night on the road.’
‘It is you who are being foolish. It’s too dangerous for you to travel alone with only your snoring Madame for company, and Charles told me yesterday that I’m no longer persona non grata in London, since my duelling opponent is well on the road to recovery.’
Serena coloured. ‘Madame LeClerc is gone ahead of me.’
‘Then that settles it. There have been a spate of robberies on the London road. A highwayman, Hughes says. It’s not safe.’
‘I’ll hire some outriders,’ Serena said stubbornly.
‘Serena, I insist. If you don’t agree, I’ll simply make sure you can’t hire your own chaise in the village. One of the advantages of being the local landowner.’
‘That’s not fair. Nicholas, it’s better if you don’t, really…’
He took hold of her hand between his own. ‘I could not be happy with you travelling alone. Indulge me in this. We both need time to order our thoughts, and I to cool my temper. You are right, we should not part on such terms. We deserve better.’
Her conscience warred with her desires, and her desires won. She could not resist the temptation of a few more days of his company. ‘Very well.’ Refusing his escort on the grounds that he too must attend to his packing, Serena departed Knightswood Hall.
It was only when she had gone that he realised she had still offered him no explanation for her willingness to make love to him.
Chapter Six (#ulink_90059dbe-cd47-5c61-9112-2b2d5efec24d)
The air in the public room of the King’s Arms, the tavern owned by the legendary heavyweight Thomas Cribb, was stifling. Acrid wood smoke from the roaring fire hung heavy, despite the grimy windows flung open wide to the street. The pungent aroma of unwashed human bodies mingled with the smell of spilt ale and cheap spirits.
Jasper Lytton paused on the threshold, wearing the habitual sneer that marred the handsome lines of his countenance. Of late the place had become overrun with the hoi polloi, so much so that even the distinction of being invited to partake of daffy within the sanctity of Cribb’s own private parlour was become a dubious pleasure. He raised his quizzing glass to survey the room. From the window embrasure a thin man beckoned with a long white finger. Jasper joined him reluctantly.
‘I th-thought you weren’t going to turn up, Jasper. I’ve been here an age.’ The man spoke with a slight stammer. He was young and elegantly dressed, but dissipation was already taking a heavy toll, thinning his hair, etching a deep groove on either side of his mouth. The pale eyes were bloodshot. His hand shook as he reached for the decanter to top up his glass, filling Jasper’s at the same time.
‘God, Langton, you look like hell.’ Jasper lolled on the hard wooden seat, watching his friend’s hand tremble with malicious pleasure. Though Langton could give him at least five years, and he himself drank harder and gamed deeper, no one would take Jasper for the senior man.
‘S-so would you, in my position. Well, do you have it?’
Jasper shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to meet the other man’s gaze. ‘No, not yet.’
‘You promised! I need it back immediately. If I d-don’t have it—God, you know what these people are like.’
‘Only too well, I introduced you to them myself, remember?’ Watching his friend gulp down the fiery liquid, Jasper felt a minute twinge of guilt. It wasn’t as if the five thousand he owed Langton was such a great sum, but it was a debt of honour. Introducing Hugo Langton to his own moneylender of choice had been intended as a stalling tactic, nothing more. Carefully reaching into his jacket pocket, Jasper withdrew a small roll of notes. ‘There’s two hundred here on account. I’ll get the rest soon. I just need a run of luck.’
‘Or your cousin to bail you out,’ Langton muttered, snatching at the money.
