Lady Triumphs (The Black Rose Trilogy Book 3) Page 15

  Harriet’s steps stuttered to a halt. “You terrify me sometimes.”

  “Only sometimes?” Serena asked. “I am losing my touch.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next day, Serena awoke before dawn to manage the critical correspondence of the day and to redraft a letter to her solicitor. She was determined to leave no loose ends and worked through the morning. Never before had she been so personally tangled in a scheme and Serena knew that nothing blinded faster than emotions. She’d wielded the weapon against others but this time the blade was in her own hands.

  Milbank’s masque ball was five days off. It was the social height of the season and word had it everyone who was anyone would be in attendance. Not that they would publicly flaunt their invitations. It was an infamous event for liaisons made and scandals gilt in sin, so naturally no one ever missed it.

  It is perfect. Time to fan the flames and ensure that even if Lord Trent has reservations for---

  A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

  “Come in.”

  Quinn entered, and she instantly knew he was displeased. “It is barely ten and far too early for a social call, your ladyship.”

  “Who is it, Quinn?”

  “The Earl of Trent has presented himself at our doorstep, your ladyship. He has stubbornly refused to leave and insisted that he’ll wait while you…” Quinn had to swallow his distaste before finishing, “get out of bed and dress yourself.”

  Serena nodded. Quinn was insulted on her behalf and there was no need to acknowledge the affront. Her skin felt cold but she kept still. “Put him in the first floor sitting room and have him wait there. Ask Albert to stand ready. Alert Pepper that I have a caller and ask Mrs. Holly to see that we have something on hand should the earl require refreshments.”

  “Very good, your ladyship.” Quinn retreated to carry out her orders and Serena carefully put away all her papers, refusing to rush.

  Damn it. If he kneels on my carpet and declares himself privately, all is lost.

  When everything was put away, she stood slowly to survey herself in a mirror on the wall. Her green silk morning dress was pretty enough, but suddenly she wasn’t sure what gown or accessory would be appropriate for Trent’s unexpected call.

  As she descended the staircase, she composed her strategy and by the time she crossed the parlor’s threshold, she was set. She left the door open behind her, nodding to Albert to hold his place in the hall where he could discreetly hear all should events take a turn.

  “Lord Trent. To what do I owe the dubious honor of a morning call?”

  “Why wait to pay a woman compliments? Who determined such a thing had to be held off until well after luncheon?” Geoffrey smiled. “It’s ridiculous if you consider it.”

  “I like the formalities that we impose on ourselves, Lord Trent.” She crossed the room, inviting him to take his place on the settee while she selected an armed chair on the opposite side of the arrangement. “But what brings you here? It surely isn’t the clumsy excuse of paying me compliments. Is there news of some kind? Is Sir Tillman well? Has something happened to him?”

  Geoffrey scowled as he sat down. “Sir Tillman is an ox and I would hardly make a visit to bring up the boy, now would I?”

  Serena stifled the urge to smile. Good. Let’s make sure you’re in no mood for declarations, shall we? “It was an honest guess. You have never failed to bring him up previously, so why would I think this morning would be the exception? Where is he? Paying an early call on another elderly friend?”

  “Damn it! You mean to make me jealous with this.”

  She blinked as if he’d accused her of flying. “Are you?”

  Geoffrey smiled, a wicked knowing thing. “What an awkward gambit, Raven! Come, come. You already revealed your desires to me and I—“

  “That is not my name.” She leaned over abruptly and rang a small silver bell on the table. “This is most unseemly. If you’d let me know you were coming, propriety dictates that another party is present when a bachelor calls on an unmarried woman in her home.”

  Albert appeared instantly in the doorway. “Your Ladyship?”

  Lord Trent’s confusion was palpable. “Do you mean to have me thrown out, Lady Wellcott? Without hearing what I’ve come to say?”

  “A note would have been a wiser means to convey your thoughts. I enjoy a man who is as eloquent on the page as he is in person.” She could feel the heat on her cheeks, inspired by memories of Trent’s letter to Phillip so many years before. God knew that no one could imprint parchment with the blackness of their soul more skilfully than the earl. Serena rose from her chair, preparing for his dismissal. “Your rival holds the advantage there.”

  Geoffrey mistook the pink in her cheeks for feminine pleasure. “You like notes, do you?” Lord Trent leaned back in his seat, his gaze narrowing. “What was in that message you received at the theatre? Was it from Adam? Or from another man? What rival thinks to insinuate himself between us? I will have all of it. You’ll tell me. You know I will have every detail from your lips.”

  “Your Ladyship?” Albert asked again and Serena held up her hand to hold the footman in place.

  “I understand it is raining this morning. I do hope you remembered an umbrella, Lord Trent. Thank you so much for calling.” She leaned in to lower her voice as if she feared the footman would overhear. “You are rusty at this, Geoffrey. But here is a detail you can think on until I agree to see you next. If I had ambitions to marry, why would I invite you to ruin my reputation by making uninvited calls to destroy my social chances of achieving that goal? You make a woman ineligible before you’re off the blocks.”

  Geoffrey’s eyes widened and he unfolded from the chair. “I see. I see. How very wise and calculating of you, duchess. But let us disregard this small visit as one of a familial nature. Yes? After all, as far as the world is concerned, we are practically family, Lady Wellcott.”

  She raised her eyebrows in an arched look of surprise. “I see. And why would a man with familial connections be ranting about like a jealous bantam rooster in my sitting room over my private correspondence? Or is it that you wished to bark disapproval of his attentions? Are you now invoking a parental role, Lord Trent? How utterly confusing!”

  “No! I’m—damn it! You are deliberately twisting my words!”

  “Good day, Lord Trent.” Serena raised her voice, radiating what authority she could muster but gifted her nemesis with a bone-melting smile to ensure he was as off-balance as a toddler. “I’m afraid I have a busy schedule today and must press on. So kind of you to call.”

  Albert took one step forward but it was enough.

  “Yes, yes!” Trent sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “I should have…brought the Tree.”

  “A tree?” Serena asked.

  Lord Trent smiled, his humor fully restored. “Never you mind, Lady Wellcott. I will see you out and about, then, and I shall follow the steps of this dance. As you say, I am a bit rusty but not for long. You wish to savor the formalities? Very well. I can see how the illusions might be precious to someone in your situation.”

  “Someone in my situation?” she asked.

  Geoffrey nodded merrily. “Come, come, Lady Wellcott. You can bustle about and make a show of it all you wish, but at the end of the day, you are alone. What allies would come to your defense if pushed? You, Lady Wellcott, are one pointed finger away from ostracism but do not fear. I won’t betray your secrets and I am happy to play along with whatever game you choose.”

  “How generous of you.”

  “I’ll make the most of this, duchess. After all, I am yet a man to be reckoned with and I do enjoy winning.” He touched his forehead in salute and then strode out with Albert respectfully but firmly behind him.

  She watched his retreat with what she hoped was the right balance between defiance and a woman overwhelmed with longing and excitement at the prospect of an earl’s courtship—just in case the monster turned aro
und for one parting glance.

  She held her pose until she heard the front door closed and latched behind him and abandoned the effort immediately. Serena sat down slowly as if fearful that she would shatter and closed her eyes.

  The illusions might be precious to someone in my situation, he says? Dear God. Please come quickly, father. It seems you are exactly what is needed to clarify my “situation”.

  Pepper spoke softly from the parlor door. “That was a surprise.”

  Serena smiled, opening her eyes, came to her feet to leave the room. She refused to display even a hint of weakness, not after yesterday’s fits. “A good lesson that I am not nearly as clever as I thought. But I doubt he’ll call again without ample warning. The storm has passed.”

  “Has it? Well, I don’t mind saying I’m relieved to hear it. I swear, Mr. Quinn was readying a full assault team below stairs to burst in to your defense.”

  “A comforting notion,” Serena lifted the front edge of her skirts to climb the stairs. “I should get bathed and dressed for that luncheon with Mrs. Marsh. I will want the pearl combs so I hope they are back from the jewelers.”

  Pepper followed her. “They were delivered yesterday. Only…”

  “Only…what, Prudence?” Serena pivoted on the landing to face her maid.

  “I hadn’t seen him before. I—I imagined him so much more…” Pepper sighed. “I nearly expected horns and cloven feet.”

  Serena smiled, her eyes watering at her friend’s sweet nature. “What a lovely life it would be, Pepper. But if every wicked creature were forced to wear horns, how in the world will I wear my favorite pearl combs?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  That night, after a late solitary supper in her rooms, Serena reread the note she’d received from Phillip. It was a playful invitation for her to meet him that night but after her encounter with Trent she was in no mood for dalliance. Instead, she wrestled with the phantom of her appetite and the earl’s vague threats while pushing her food from one side of the plate to the other.

  I will need to choose the venue and then push him past reason if—

  Serena was startled by the distant sound of a bell at the front door. She bolted to her feet, instincts jangling.

  Trent!

  Scandal be damned, he has circled back after stewing all day.

  Her hands shook as she adjusted her hair combs, grateful that at least she hadn’t yet undressed for bed and could face him quickly—but this time she would give Quinn the nod to arm the footmen and let the chips fall where they may.

  There was a soft knock on the door and Albert stepped inside. “The Duke of Northland has arrived, your ladyship. Would you like—“

  She pushed past him, running down the stairs to hurl herself into her father’s arms who stood in the grand foyer with his arms outstretched and waiting. He enfolded her in his embrace, his hands stroking the silk of her hair, and a dozen endearments whispered into her ears.

  Here and for her, the most reserved man in all of England, clung to her and allowed her to do the same. “You came.”

  He nodded, relinquishing her only to make a parental inspection of his child, his approval shining from his eyes. “I’d have been here sooner but muddy roads are no respecter of rank. I am unhappy to report that cursing is also not effective in increasing one’s speed. I left a cloud of obscenities over Surrey that may wilt gardens and destroy crops.”

  Serena laughed. “I knew I longed to see you but—until this moment, I didn’t realize how very much it meant.”

  “Come, then. Let’s sit and talk for a while and see if we cannot settle my nerves.”

  “Yes, of course. Mr. Quinn, can you ask Mrs. Holly to bring up a supper tray for the duke and see that a draft of fresh lemonade is included. We’ll be in the upstairs study.” She took his arm and they climbed to the second floor together. “It is one of my favorite rooms and best suited to conversation.”

  “Then lead on.” He shook his head. “How in the world did you know of my fondness for lemonade? After all, it is not the usual drink of choice for a man my age!”

  “You are teasing me, Your Grace. What diabolical mastermind would I be if I did not retain a few resources within your household?”

  “Who? Who are your spies?”

  “A woman never divulges all of her secrets.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Keep them, dearest. Oh, what a Walsingham you would have made!”

  They settled by the fireplace in the sitting room, the dinner tray and drinks delivered before they’d shifted the cushions for comfort. Serena glowed with pride at the responsiveness of her staff, aware that Mr. Quinn was beside himself to have the Duke of Northland under the roof (even for a scandalously late call).

  “Was there anything else, Your Grace?”

  “No, thank you. I sent my luggage on and will be heading out later to my Town house, so please don’t scramble the staff to prepare rooms or make a fuss. I will not impose on Lady Wellcott for long.”

  Quinn retreated with a bow and Serena sighed. “You are never an imposition, Your Grace.”

  “Says the gracious hostess,” he countered. “But what an oaf I am! I meant to wish you a happy birthday as my first words and then the sight of you bolting down those stairs like a colt drove every civilized blessing from my head.”

  “Is it?” Serena asked. “I…missed it completely.”

  Northland shook his head. “You are twenty-five years of age today, my darling, and I—I could not have forgotten the day even if I tried.” His eyes took on a sad and faraway look. “No, nor should I.”

  She reached out to touch his hand, a small gesture of comfort. She had learned from him that her mother died giving birth to her and the pain of it haunted him to this day. The Duke of Northland had never recovered and never married. She tipped her head to one side to study him quietly. He was not yet to his fiftieth year and a part of her wondered if fate might provide for his happiness.

  He looked up, startled at his own lapse into silence. “I’m apparently more tired than I knew if I’m reduced to a maudlin fool in front of you.”

  “You are never foolish.” Serena smiled. “Again, I am just glad you received my letter.”

  “I love all your letters. Even if they are generally sweetly fictitious,” he sighed.

  “What are you accusing me of, Your Grace?” she asked.

  “Your heart betrays you, Lady Wellcott. I think you love your father too much to write of a single melancholy thought or incident. Your letters usually would have me believe that you are touched with nothing rougher than butterfly wings…”

  “My last note must have been a jarring change then,” she conceded. “Is that why you came so quickly?”

  He nodded. “I would give you the moon if you dared look at it longingly in my presence, and you know it. And so you ask for nothing, wary of taking advantage of an old man’s firm attachments, Lady Wellcott. Imagine my surprise when you requested that I come to London to publicly appear next to you for some innocuous musical performance and party.”

  “Not a terrible surprise then?”

  “It was a joy to feel needed—by my independent and beautiful child.”

  “It is a terrible tangle, isn’t it?” she said softly. “I would do anything to make you happy but I cannot be less independent. I wish to keep you from worry and repay your kindness by shielding you from the madness of my world.”

  “Change nothing.” He took a sip of his lemonade and grinned at her. “Just be yourself.”

  “I love you, Your Grace.”

  “Then call me father.”

  “Father.” She smiled. The word pleased them both and she gently replaced one hand over his, wishing that there had been a simpler path to saying it to him. She had avoided the word in public for fear of humiliating him and then privately, stepped around it to cushion her heart from pain. “You deserve a better daughter.”

  He smiled, his eyes sad. “God help me, that you would love me despite
our past, it still razes me to the bone.”

  “It would be unnatural to do any less, than care for you as I do.”

  “Then ask me to do more for you, Serena. A simple appearance and show of my acceptance of you is too paltry a thing.”

  She shook her head in wonder. “Did you have an example in mind?”

  “I don’t know.” He sighed. “A new carriage? Another house? No, even as I hear myself talking, my soul is cringing. If I could I would wrench apart the heavens to give you whatever your heart desired.”

  She gripped his hand, her eyes filling with tears. “The only thing I desire is revenge against Geoffrey Parke and I must do it alone, Father. I would never inflict on your dear sweet person the agony of it. But I...have a plan in motion.”

  “Do you?”

  “I only need you to remind Lord Trent that I have your full support and devotion. I want him to respect me and temper his familiarity with my past with a renewed understanding of my father’s interest in my happiness. He cannot see me as a vulnerable orphan somehow still in his debt.”

  “Does he?”

  She shrugged. “I suspect he does and in his warped view, no show of wealth alters his opinion. But you… My instincts tell me that the sight of you will pull him up.”

  “That I can do easily. I will appease him and even make an insincere offer of friendship if that is what it takes. And,” he leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. “I will do so wearing the new waistcoat you sent me for Christmas.”

  She smiled. “You do look more stately in that brocade.”

  “More like a duke? My wardrobe has improved in the last seven years to such an extent that my tailor confessed he was convinced that there was a new woman in my life.”

  “And there was,” she said softly.

  “My daughter.” He looked down into her eyes, so very much like his own. “My life come back to me and my heart restored.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Are you ready, dearest?” Northland asked as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the grand entry to the Marquis of Sudbury’s home. They were in a long line of carriages unloading their elegant passengers for the evening’s concert and Serena stole a subtle look out the curtains to admire the pageantry.