Lady Triumphs (The Black Rose Trilogy Book 3) Page 4

  Harriet’s spine stiffened. “How sensitive of you to bring it all up—and in one go! But at least, he comes to mind whereas you, sir, are someone I know nothing of and have heard even less.” She set down the two glasses of punch abandoning them to signal the women’s pending withdrawal. “I never trust men who fail to create a name for themselves.”

  Geoffrey smiled. “I do love a woman with a sharp tongue. Remind me to introduce you to my nephew when he arrives in London. The boy could use a bit of toughening up.”

  Serena watched the exchange with fascination as Harriet was unfazed by Trent’s barbed wit. She adored her friend’s strength and knew it was not a show. As for the earl, Serena knew it was a different story and that he was only testing and pushing because her chaperone had pricked his pride.

  “May I note that your nephew may also need a good lesson in manners if you have been his mentor, your lordship? Come, Lady Wellcott. There is an acquaintance of note that we should pay our respects toward and I see no reason to delay.”

  And that round goes to Harriet!

  Serena smiled. “Of course, Lady Lylesforth.” She gave Trent an apologetic nod. “Until Lord Drake’s then, your lordship.”

  “I look forward to it with vast anticipation, Lady Wellcott!” Trent said with a theatrical bow. “Yes, until then!”

  She sailed off with her chaperone, her head held high.

  “My dislike of the male species is reconfirmed,” Lady Lylesforth stated. “Was that as you wished regarding Lord Trent?”

  “It was. Is there a water closet or…a quiet room I can use?”

  “Of course.” Lady Lylesforth directed her to a well-appointed room on the ground floor and left her in privacy.

  Serena locked the door behind her, leaning against the carved oak to catch her breath.

  Was that as I wished?

  Oh, God.

  She barely made it to the basin before retching up the contents of her stomach, mercilessly sick until she was so weak she feared might not be able to walk. She pressed cold fingers against her forehead and waited.

  I have quite literally agreed to dance with the Devil.

  She heaved again at the thought, and finally gave in to shock and tears.

  The game had officially begun.

  Chapter Four

  “Was it a lovely outing, your ladyship?” Pepper asked cautiously. “Sir Warrick insisted on awaiting your return.”

  “It was.” Serena answered and then looked to Phillip who was leaning against the mantel in the drawing room. “Not—lovely but a bit more of a success than I’d expected our first time in.”

  Phillip raised one of his eyebrows, patiently waiting. “But he was there.”

  Pepper withdrew and Serena held her breath, taking her place on the settee.

  “He was there.” The words hung in the air between them.

  “You’d said he would be.” Phillip crossed over to sit across from her, his expression full of concern. “Was he cruel?”

  Serena shook her head. “In a strange way, yes, but by all conventional measures, I should say not. He was…thrilled to see me, delighted at the reunion and oblivious to any harm he caused. It was—almost more cruel to be so regarded but I fully comprehend my value to him all those years ago.”

  “And what was that?”

  She lifted her shoulders lightly and dropped them with a small sigh. “I’m confident that I held a place at least one step over one of his horses but I may not have surpassed those swans he tried to add to the pond when I was thirteen.” Her expression sobered with concentration. “He was obsessed with those birds if I recall it rightly.”

  “Raven.”

  She waved away the memory and the look of sympathy in his eyes. “Phillip, the point is not lamenting the man’s lack of paternal affections. The point is that I have learned more of his mind. He recalls my life at Oakwell Manor with vague attention and my part in your “downfall” with pride. But he is blind to me as a threat and has no notion of any trespass.” She sat up a little straighter, a woman in command. “He has essentially become you.”

  “Me?”

  “Well, you as you were seven years ago. How is that for delicious irony?”

  Phillip shook his head. “I don’t perceive where any of this is delicious and I do not acknowledge any resemblance!”

  “Then I withdraw the comment. I meant only to allude to the twist that Geoffrey Parke is oblivious to any danger and believes that everyone around him is a friend. Or at least, so overconfident of his powers that he cannot see how one slight woman could present a threat.” Serena stood to stretch her legs and pace to help her thoughts fall into place. “It is Trent’s turn to play the lamb.”

  “Raven, you cannot think he’ll let you put a ribbon and a bell on his neck and dance him into the slaughterhouse. He won’t play anything.”

  “You have no taste for revenge, Sir Warrick. Trust me. All men dance once you discover the melody that pleases them.”

  “Pity that,” he said sarcastically then gave her an apologetic nod. “Very well. I am a novice. What next, mistress?”

  “I am to attend Drake’s ball next week. Lord Trent has expressed a desire to dance with me.”

  “Like hell!” Phillip leaned back in his chair. “May I say for posterity’s sake that I loathe this plan already?”

  “Your objections are noted.” She paced to the windows to look out. “He admires me because he believes himself to be my maker like Pygmalion. I am his Galatea.” She touched the glass, allowing the cool glass to temper the heat in her fingertips. “It is perfect.”

  “Perfect?”

  “I am his Creation. Who better to author his destruction than a creature of his own design? I know him. I know his male pride and enormous vanity. I know how to make him laugh, to draw him out and push him.”

  “Push him where?”

  “I don’t know yet. But he is facing a critical turning point. He has clung to bachelorhood the way a child clings to its mother but without offspring, a nephew stands to one day inherit his title and holdings.” Her pacing picked up speed. “The nephew is coming to London and Trent is to host him.”

  “Poor boy,” Phillip added.

  “I know Trent. He’ll want to influence and remake him if he can, into some version of himself that appeals to his vanity. But if the boy falls short, it will be hard for him not to turn against him. Heir or no, I don’t think the earl’s pride will allow a lesser man to attempt to fill his shoes—much less walk the halls of Oakwell Manor as its master.”

  “He has no choice, Raven. If the boy stands to inherit, it hardly matters what Trent thinks of him.” Phillip stretched out his legs, settling in to admire the quick turns of her mind. “He might be irritated but that’s not exactly world shattering.”

  “We’ll see. Remember that your idea of a minor infraction and the earl’s notion of vast injustice are two different things. I will meet his nephew and make my own judgment but my instincts say that if he is a sliver of the disaster I am praying he is, then I may need to do very little.” Serena returned to her chair. “The details will come but one thing is certain.”

  “I am almost afraid to ask.”

  She smiled. “I am going to need a new ballgown and dancing slippers.”

  “I want to be the one to take you dancing, damn it.”

  She shook her head. “I will not be seen with you publicly until this matter is finished. Stop pouting.”

  “I am most decidedly not pouting.”

  “Then go downstairs please and wait for me to change for dinner. We’ll have a quiet meal together and if you are charming, who knows where the evening may lead?”

  He sighed but a wicked heat came into his eyes. “It will inevitably lead to me sneaking out the back alley from this house but I am willing to see if I cannot be diverted from departing for a few hours yet.”

  She stood to place her palms against the thrumming pulse of his heart. “Phillip. A more charming approach would
be to see if you can divert me—not the other way around.”

  “I do see the wisdom of your perspective.”

  He kissed her possessively, his mastery thrilling her as Phillip demonstrated that he knew exactly how to please her best. She opened her mouth quickly to taste him, welcoming the velvet touch of his tongue to hers. His kisses gave rise to a renewed hunger, a heat that she didn’t wish to cool. Serena clung to him, shivering at the delicious sensation of her bones melting away.

  “Dinner,” she whispered.

  Phillip lifted his head, the cloud of desire fogging his own vision. “I’m not hungry.”

  Serena smiled, savoring the sweet power that held them both in thrall. “Well, I am. I didn’t get so much as a cucumber sandwich and if I’m to have my strength for the evening ahead…” She reached up, caressing his face. “Go. Wait downstairs and let me change for dinner. Please.”

  He sighed. “I do love the way you say please.”

  “I suspect I will repeat that word quite a few times before the sun rises, Phillip.”

  “I’ll take that as a promise.”

  Serena balanced up onto her toes to steal one more quick kiss. “I am a woman of my word, my love.”

  Alone upstairs with Pepper to change for dinner, Serena held as still as she could while her hem was repaired. She looked down at her friend, a pang of affection making her smile. “I don’t think Sir Warrick will be looking at my feet, Pepper. Would you like to let it go?”

  Pepper looked up at her in shock. “Are you mad? Allow my Lady to touch one tread of that staircase looking one thread short of perfection? Where’s your pride, woman?”

  Serena shook her head. “A momentary insanity must have seized me.”

  “I’ll say!” Pepper teased, clucking her tongue in mock disapproval. “Now’s not the time to be dropping standards!”

  The jest struck home and Serena lifted her head, her smile fading. “You’re right. Now is not the time to…soften.”

  “Don’t start fretting up there.”

  “I am not fretting!” Serena put her hands on her hips but mastered herself before stomping her foot. “Seeing the earl has—this game will go quickly, Pepper. If I’m to outwit him, there is no room for doubt or hesitation.”

  “You’ll get him in the end,” Pepper said then bit through the thread to finish it off. “There!” Pepper stood, her petite stature making it an uneven proposition but Pepper addressed her as an equal. “He rattled you today.”

  Serena nodded. “I—I was sick with it.”

  “Just so,” Pepper whispered. “A belly full of hatred is not an easy thing to digest.”

  “I’m going to destroy him, Pepper.” Serena said. “But I have a feeling that I have never had before and it frightens me.”

  “Say it.”

  “All the ugly revenge I have dealt out like so many cards, but this time, I am too close. Planning vengeance is like planning a murder, isn’t it? Except this won’t be like knife work where the cut is made and all you have to do is mind your petticoats to step around the blood puddles. This time I think it’s going to be like a bomb going off and if it’s to work, then I’ll be looking in Trent’s eyes when the explosion comes.”

  Pepper shuddered then smiled. “I shall go to Hell for getting such a thrill when you talk like this. You, who haven’t so much as squashed an ant, but I swear you make my blood go cold.”

  “They are metaphors, Prudence.”

  “I know! Though what a glorious thing that would be if you put a bit of dynamite under his chair…”

  “Pepper!” Serena chided and then started to laugh. “It would be a simpler and somewhat satisfying scenario.”

  “Here, let’s get your hair set.” Pepper pulled out the vanity chair and Serena settled in as her hair was braided and pinned atop her head. “As we’re on the topic, I’m to meet with Mrs. Fitzherbert’s maid tomorrow on her afternoon off. She’s on the same square as the house the earl has let and I’m to get a full report from her.”

  “Brilliant.”

  “It’s Sir Warrick’s that got you twisted up over all this but don’t you let go of that man’s hand.” Pepper’s fingers never slowed. “You’re not saying it but that’s why you’re afraid. It’s a messy business and even with what he knows after witnessing your handiwork to help his cousin, you’re worried he hasn’t seen you at your worst.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “He loves you. That won’t change. But if you turn from your own will, you’ll never forgive him for it. Right or wrong, makes no difference. You’re too stubborn and set to it, your ladyship.”

  “I’m not turning away from anything.”

  Pepper nodded and said no more.

  Serena looked at her reflection, drifting back to the problem at hand. It would be a miracle if Phillip’s devotion truly holds through this. She’s right. I’m fearful of losing him if I go too far.

  But Fate doesn’t bend to sentimentality.

  The circle is closing fast and I can nearly see the shape of it. The surprise is how familiar all this ground seems. I can hear myself at seventeen saying that I would sacrifice anything and everything to be happy. And here comes the test at last.

  What will I risk to end the Earl of Trent?

  What wouldn’t I risk?

  The answer never came and she accepted that nothing was off the table.

  Not even her own happiness.

  Chapter Five

  Serena made a quarter turn, noting the way the detailed ruching in the bustle drew the eye down, accenting her narrow waist and figure. “Madame Montellier! It is a wonder. But are you sure the fashion is so…elaborate this season?”

  “It cannot have too many layers in the cascade, your ladyship. The latest dictates of Paris do not overtake English sensibilities, but a balance must be struck. Do you not agree?”

  Serena nodded, smiling at the delicate politics of a woman’s skirts. “We must hold our own, Madame Montellier, and make a statement of our own.”

  “For the Empire!” The dressmaker proclaimed with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “And to make every man in London swoon at the impact when you walk away, Lady Wellcott.”

  “It is not every man I hope to affect,” Serena demurred. “Perhaps just one.”

  Pauline Montellier’s expression instantly transformed into rapt surprise at the admission. “Is it true?”

  Serena shifted to face her. “We’ll see. When I come back to retrieve my purchases and in the Season ahead, I hope I can rely on you to once again discreetly convey what news I give you.”

  The dressmaker nodded eagerly. “Gossip is the easiest currency to spend in London, Lady Wellcott. And one that I am grateful you accept in return for my debt to the Black—“

  “Madame Montellier,” Serena said, cutting her off gently. “I am only happy to see your shop thriving and my favorite dressmaker with roses in her cheeks.”

  Pauline blushed as if on cue. “Was there anything else you required today, Lady Wellcott?”

  “I will need several ensembles for the weeks ahead. I wish to make this a Season to remember.”

  Serena stepped down from the dais, accepted assistance back into her own clothes and then they began to quickly shift through the fashion plates, before Pauline retrieved her sketchbook to modify designs as her best customer dictated. Madame Montellier was completely familiar with Serena’s style and with the lightning fast speed of her selections. Where other women dithered over lace for hours, Lady Wellcott could specify every detail of an entire, flawless trousseau in minutes.

  Pauline’s breath caught in her throat as a fortune was committed in silk and labor. “Why do I bother with other clients when I have your generous patronage, Lady Wellcott?”

  Serena laughed, then patted her friend’s hand. “Because without a shop with such delightful clients, however will you spread the gossip that I need you to share?”

  Pauline nodded. “My shop is yours.”

  “No. Yours, dearest,
all yours but I do need use of my room today, Madame.”

  “Yes.” Pauline reached into the deep pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt. “I have the key here in anticipation of your appointment.” She held out a heavy ornate key tied with a black silk ribbon. “If you would allow me the liberty of lighting a few coals, Lady Wellcott. That room is so rarely used and I wish you to be more comfortable.”

  “You are kind, Madame, and a true friend. But I will be quick and have no wish to trouble you.” Serena took the key and waited until the modiste had left before walking over to the fitting room’s back wall and pulling aside the brocade curtain that hid a locked door. She opened it smoothly and then locked the door behind her. She found the lantern on the table and lit it quickly, her familiarity with the space making her movements smooth and efficient in the darkness. It was a small square windowless room decorated sparsely enough to pass but it served its purpose. Here in the back of fashionable dressmaker’s shop, the Black Rose could meet secretly with anyone without risk of any association with her house or her person.

  Beyond the dress shop’s uses for spreading strategic gossip, Serena had required use of this windowless room as the price to Madame Montellier when Pauline had asked the Black Rose for aid. Pauline had been one of her very first members and of all the assets Serena possessed, her tiny secret room was one of her most prized. The key to this room conveniently also opened the door to a narrow alleyway next to the dress shop and gave her a discreet portal to London and London to the Black Rose. She could meet anyone here without discovery and without question. After all, women were expected to spend hours at their dressmakers so if her carriage waited on a public street outside of Madame Montellier’s establishment, not an eyebrow would be raised.

  And who would ever suspect the proper Lady Wellcott to have private conferences with criminal elements, sordid characters and unsavory persons in some sort of secret sitting room in a dress shop?

  Inside the room, the outer door was disguised with a heavy brocade curtain to shield any light that might escape if it were opened at night. Serena drew back the thick cloth, unlocked the portal and then had to throw the bolt open to finally achieve access for her guests. She’d insisted on the additional security to both keep her friend’s shop secure but also to guarantee that no one could stumble into her hidden parlor from the outside world.