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"No, you wouldn't."

"I wouldn't?"

He touched the tip of her nose with the tip of his tongue. "I'd distract you."

Beth chuckled. "I fear you would. I did not used to be so easily distracted. You have quite ruined me, sir."

When her husband would have ruined her even further, however, she pushed him away. "Wait, Lucien. I'm truly concerned about Francis and Serena. I wish I knew what was wrong. Do you think he really would rather be married to Anne Peckworth?"

He accepted her mood and lounged back, hands no longer touching her. "I can see that it offered certain comforts. But on the other hand, Serena offers remarkable advantages...."

"Lucien!" Beth warned.

"Let me distract you, then." His hand crept up her side.

She captured it. "No. And now I come to think of it, what happened about that wager? Did Francis ever get her money?"

Lucien's hand ceased its struggle to be free. "Ah. A matter best ignored, love."

"Do you mean Allbright didn't pay? And you are all willing to let him get away with it? Well, I'm going to—"

"No, you're not," said Lucien firmly.

Beth recognized that he was serious. "Why not?"

He sighed. "Beth, can we perhaps have just one subject that isn't plumbed to the depths?"

"What on earth can be so terrible about a debt? The man either paid or he didn't."

"He paid in kind. With jewelry."

"As long as he paid." Then her eyes narrowed. "If Tom Allbright had jewelry, I assume it was Serena's."

"Yes."

"But Lucien, that's not fair! He paid his debt to her with her own jewels."

"Francis is not debating the point."

"Has Serena even been told? I will—"

"No, you won't. Beth, I doubt Serena ever wants to see that jewelry again."

"Why not? If it is ugly, it can be reset."

To her alarm, he pushed her off his knee and walked away.

"Lucien?"

She thought he wouldn't answer, but then he said, "It is ugly. It is also vicious."

"Vicious?" Beth asked disbelievingly.

He turned, almost angrily. "Very well. You will insist on knowing everything, won't you? You are about to learn how fortunate you are in having married me, Madam Wife." He counted off on his fingers. "Item: one jeweled collar and chain. Item: jeweled shackles. Item: one jeweled-handled whip..."

Beth ran over and grasped his eloquent hands. "Don't! Lucien, don't." She looked up into his angry eyes. "She was just
fifteen!"
She went instinctively into his arms.

He held her tight. "I know, love. I know. It doesn't bear thinking about."

Chapter 13

Serena chose to breakfast in bed, reluctant to encounter either her husband or his mother. She wondered if her low spirits were the result of her pregnancy or her situation. She certainly had enough to be miserable about, but if anything, her situation should be improving. She would not bear a bastard, nor would she and her child starve, and her husband was a kind and generous man. Despite this happy state of affairs, her spirits seemed to be sinking lower and lower into a bottomless trough of despair. It was all because of Francis's discontent.

She could not even think of happiness when he was so clearly unhappy. There was a great deal she could not mend—she couldn't give him Lady Anne for a wife, for example—but there were things she could do. She owed it to him to make their life together work.

Pondering her problem, Serena washed and dressed, then rang to have Brandy brought to her in the drawing room. As a gift from her husband, she was especially precious.

The scrubbed kitchen boy proudly brought up the basket. "I took her out in the garden just a little while ago, milady," he announced.

"I'm sure that was a good idea."

"And I made her a rag ball." He proudly showed her the object.

"That was very kind of you."

The lad showed a tendency to linger, and Serena suspected he was already beginning to think of the dog as his. She dismissed him firmly and settled down to enjoy the lovely creature.

Brandy appeared happy to see her but not inclined to be cuddled. She was much more interested in the ball, chasing it around the room and under the furniture. When it wedged under a pedestal stand, she worried at it, little rump sticking out and wagging.

Despite her cares, Serena was laughing when Beth was announced. Beth starting laughing, too, at the sight. Soon both ladies were down on the floor with the puppy, trying to get the ball out.

Francis's mother stalked in. "What on earth...?" A picture of elegance, she stared at them, then simply turned and walked out.

"Oh, dear," said Serena, forced back to the cares of the world.

Beth chuckled. "She probably thought we were maids misbehaving." She turned back to trying to rescue the ball.

Serena thought of running after Francis's mother and begging her pardon, but abandoned the notion. It would probably do little good. She rather thought winning over Francis's mother was a lost cause, but how they were all to live together at Thorpe Priory was hard to imagine.

Beth's fingers found a trailing scrap of cloth and pulled it free. She tossed it across the room and the puppy scampered after it with glee. Beth just sat there on the carpet, hair escaping its pins. "She's adorable. I must have one."

"A wolfhound?" Serena queried, leaning back against the pedestal. It felt just like their school days, and she wished for those innocent times again.

"Why not? I don't care, and Lucien has a low opinion of what he calls lapdogs."

Serena glanced at Beth. "Your husband is very grand. I could almost be frightened of him."

"He's a fiery creature," Beth agreed, "but sound at heart. He's very like his stallion, Viking. Superbly bred and trained, but still a stallion."

"Why did you marry him?"

Beth met her eyes calmly. "Why did you get pregnant?"

Serena blinked with surprise at the neat parry. She must not forget that Beth had always been very clever. The obvious answer to both questions was "for love." It wasn't true in her ease. Was it in Beth's?

"Do you love him?" she dared to ask.

"Yes," said Beth, adding in a prosaic voice, "To the point of insanity. It is, at times, a damned nuisance." She pushed herself to her feet. "Now, are you ready for the theater tonight? It will be a chance to show your face."

Serena wanted to gush enthusiasm but knew her face betrayed her. "It's necessary," she said flatly.

"Yes. There's no point being mealy-mouthed about this, Serena. For the plan to work, people must meet you and like you before talk begins. It will be much harder then for them to shut you out. But Francis can only wait a few days before announcing the marriage formally."

"Which will mean announcing my former name."

"Quite."

Serena captured Brandy and hugged her for comfort. The puppy was beginning to tire and seemed content to be stroked. "Beth, about Matthew's cronies..."

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. We are going to be moving in the highest circles...."

"You don't understand," Serena interrupted. "They will have seen things... Matthew used to..." Her mouth didn't seem able to form the words.

"It doesn't matter," said Beth briskly, too briskly. There were patches of color in her cheeks. "Such people carry no weight at all. Now, I have brought some gowns for you. I think they will fit except for the height." She grinned. "You are definitely better endowed in the chest than I, though I seem to be expanding daily. Why don't we go to your room?"

Serena abandoned her warnings and hoped Beth was right. She suspected that no one would understand her life at Stokeley Manor, and she didn't want to enlighten them.

Beth had brought her maid with her, along with a number of boxes. Soon Serena's room was a mass of gorgeous fabrics. Beth picked up a yellow gown and held it against her friend. "I thought this color would suit you," she declared triumphantly, "and since the skirt is plain, it will be easy to alter the hem. Put it on and Redcliff will pin it."

Serena suppressed an urge to object and allowed the maid to assist her into the lovely gown. It consisted of an underdress of heavy textured silk in a dusky golden yellow, with two shorter overdresses in paler shades. The lower one was of fine sarcenet, the upper of delicate gold-shot lace.

Serena stared at her image in the mirror, stunned by the beauty of the creation. Every movement had it shifting like water, glimmering in the candlelight. "It's too beautiful...."

She was ignored. "It'll need a few tucks around the waist, milady," said Redcliff, applying some pins. "If you were to lend Lady Middlethorpe your bronze zephyr shawl to wear as a sash, it'd likely hide any rough work."

"Excellent, Redcliff," said Beth, who was on her knees, adjusting the hem. "The underskirt must come up three inches, but I think we can leave the outskirts, since there is so little time. Can it be done by the evening?"

"Surely, milady."

The dress was whipped off and carried away, and another—a green—was brought out for consideration. Serena didn't see how Beth could bear to part with such beautiful gowns. "These dresses will be ruined for you," she objected.

"Don't give it a thought. That yellow never looked half as good on me as it does on you, so I think I only wore it the once." Beth looked shrewdly at Serena's still-dubious face. "If you are feeling at all guilty, you must come and inspect my wardrobes one day. They are full to overflowing with clothes I will never wear more than once or twice. It is ridiculous, but it is the price of high rank. At least we employ a great many people in the making, and since I even pay extra to ensure that the seamstresses have good light in which to work, my conscience doesn't trouble me too much."

She was obviously telling the truth. Serena fingered a cream and brown confection. "Then I can only say thank you. I have never owned gowns as lovely as these." In the back of Serena's mind was the memory of her exquisite wedding dress, but that had soon been tarnished by unbearable memories.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by a growling sound. She chased down Brandy, wondering how a tiny puppy could be making such a threatening noise. Just as she spotted the dog, Brandy launched herself at Beth's bonnet, which had fallen to the floor.

"No!" shrieked Serena and grabbed, but Brandy came up with the feathered ornament on the brim of the bonnet firmly between her small teeth. "Let go, you bad girl! Let go, I say." She forced the small jaws open and rescued the bonnet.

Beth was laughing. "She looks so proud of herself! I fear you have a bird dog there."

"Beth, I'm so sorry. She's broken one of the feathers."

Beth took the bonnet and placed it on one of the spindles of the dressing table, well out of reach. "It is of no matter, I assure you. Isn't it strange, though, how such instincts are inborn?"

Serena rang for the lad to come and take charge of Brandy before the puppy did even more damage, and then she submitted to yet more fittings. She was hard put to join in with the cheerful chatter, however. A new weight had descended upon her. No wonder Francis was so dismayed by his situation. Not only had he lost his chosen bride—and even if he didn't love Lady Anne, he did not deny that she had all the qualities he desired—and been plunged into scandal, but his children would have the Allbright blood.

Serena herself had never felt part of the Allbrights, for she took more after her mother in looks and temperament. She had to accept that it was possible, however, for her children to turn out to be very like Tom and Will.

Lady Anne Peckworth doubtless carried no such undesirable traits within her.

"Now," said Beth, "what of jewels? I have plenty of those, too."

Serena returned to the matter in hand, the only one that seemed within her control. "Oh, no. Francis bought me a topaz necklace and earrings yesterday that will surely do."

She and Beth inspected the items in the jewelry box, removing a filigreed gold bracelet. "I have some ivory pieces that would go well," said Beth, and would not be gainsaid. "I will send them over. Think of it as armor, Serena. People will take you as they find you. If you look wealthy and confident, they will accept you as such."