Forbidden (39 page)

She had no choice, however. If she once started to keep secrets, she would die inside. If she started to pay her brothers, they would leech her for the rest of her life, for each payment made behind her husband's back would be more fuel for blackmail. She wiped her tears and gathered her nerve. She must tell Francis and she must do it now.

Serena hurried back to the house and summoned a footman. "Is Lord Middlethorpe home yet?"

Chapter 17

The footman seemed startled at the urgency of Serena's request. "I don't think so, milady. Shall I enquire?"

Let him be in.
"Yes, please. I will be in my room."

Francis wasn't at home, though, which as she'd known gave her time to vacillate and lose her nerve. She paced her room, tumbling from one decision to the other. Twice she almost threw the crumpled picture onto the fire but stopped herself.

As time passed, the question of the jewels came back to haunt her. Surely Tom must have been lying. But Tom did not lie about things like that; he was not a sneaky deceiver.

If Francis had won the
jewels
as the prize for that horse race, then he must have seen them. Why had he never mentioned them? Did he, as Tom suggested, want to use them as Matthew had used them, to stimulate his flagging desire? Did they excite him?

No. No. Of course, he would not mention them. A gentleman such as Francis would not discuss such things with his wife, even if they were no secret to her.

The more likely explanation was that he had sold them and given her the money.

That was it.

But she had to know.

Serena knocked on the door to her husband's bedroom. When there was no answer she slipped in and, after the briefest hesitation, searched it.

She hoped not to find anything, but she found the jewels without difficulty. Her hands trembled as she opened the familiar pouch. Within, all the jewelry was out of its individual pouches and jumbled together. Could he be in the habit of pawing through it, fantasizing?

Please, no.

Foul memories washed over her, and it was as if she were back in Stokeley Manor and Matthew had just arrived to torment her.

Serena picked up the jeweled handcuffs. The heavy silver bracelets set with pearls and rubies had straps to attach them to the posts of the bed. The metal cuffs were lined with padded velvet, for Matthew had said that he did not want to inadvertently mark her delicate skin. Advertently, of course, he had once or twice whipped her harshly enough to mark her....

She clicked one around her wrist, where it looked very much like a fine bracelet. It was not tight, but well designed to be too small for her hand to pass through. She unclicked it. They were easy to get in and out of if one had the use of the other hand. She threw them down onto the glittering pile. She had hated more than anything being bound, being helpless. She had always been helpless, but when she was tied to the bed or a chair, it was made brutally clear.

If Francis had won these for her, then given her the value of them, he could be said to have purchased them for his own use. She was suddenly filled with defiant rage. She would never be used that way again, not even by the man she loved.

These jewels were hers, damn it, by law and any other right. They were paid for in blood and tears. Serena took the pouch and returned to her room. She wanted to throw them into the nearest sewer, but they might be the price of salvation. If she had to, she'd give them to her brothers....

Someone knocked. Serena hastily shoved the pouch into a drawer and called permission to enter.

It was Francis. "You wanted to speak to me? I have only just arrived home."

Serena stared at him, momentarily bereft of words. Did this gentle, smiling man with the elegant bones and the dark, sensitive eyes really want to do the same things as coarse, brutal Matthew Riverton?

He moved closer. "Serena? Is something the matter?"

"No. Yes..." She almost didn't tell him, for at the moment he looked loving and her revelations might ruin everything. She forced the words out in a rush. "I went out into the garden with Brandy and met my brothers. They tried to extort money from me."

His brows rose but he took it calmly. "You refused to give them anything, I hope."

His response steadied her. "Yes, of course. But they are threatening to... they are threatening to tell the world about my first marriage if I don't pay them."

He smiled. "That will be a toothless threat after tonight."

It almost choked her, but she spat the rest of it out. "And they have pictures!"

"Pictures?"

Face burning, she picked up the torn and crumpled papers and passed them to him. He took the two pieces and smoothed them out on a table, saying nothing.

The wall clock ticked away the seconds of silence. Too many of them.

"I didn't pose for them, Francis. Matthew sent an artist to make sketches for a portrait. I posed for him for days and the pictures were lovely. But instead of a portrait, he did those! He... he left off my clothing.... In some he..."

He turned suddenly and took her trembling hands. "Don't, my dear. You mustn't distress yourself. We can handle this."

"How?" she wailed. "Truly, Francis, that one is nothing. Some of them are
disgusting!"

He took her into his arms. "That could happen to anyone."

"But they'll
believe
it of Randy Riverton's widow!"

He pushed her away a little to look into her eyes. "They will not believe it of Lord Middlethorpe's wife, I assure you, Serena. I will see to that."

She shivered. "I knew it. You'll end up in a duel, and all because of me."

His hand caressed her hair. "I'll do my best to avoid it, I promise. You've let them upset you, my dear. Don't. It's a hollow threat, but I'm glad you told me."

"Hollow?"
His calm good humor was soothing her, but she couldn't believe the problem did not exist. "It isn't hollow, Francis. Tom says that even if you kill him, Will can publish the pictures. What are we going to do?"

He drew her over to a chaise and sat down with her. "We could pay them, I suppose. How much did they want? Let me guess," he said lightly. "Three thousand pounds."

That figure startled her, reminding her of a number of problems, especially the jewels. "Ten," she said.

"Ten?" Now he in turn was startled. "Greedy, ain't they? How did they come to that figure?" Then she saw a strangely thoughtful look come over his face.

"That was the amount Samuel Seale had offered for me before I ran away."

"I see." He considered her searchingly. "And if your brothers were willing to deal directly with me, I have to suppose they would have done so. So, you are to be their go-between, are you?" It was as if a barrier were sliding up between them.

"I suppose so," she said faintly, not sure what to make of the change in him.

He leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. One long finger tapped on the back of the chaise. "So they didn't expect you to tell me this? How, then, did they expect you to acquire such a sum?"

Serena felt as if she were being interrogated. "They didn't.... They... they wanted the three thousand pounds you gave me, and then more as I could find it. From my pin money, the housekeeping money, and other similar things. I couldn't do such a thing," she assured him anxiously.

Preying on her mind was the thought that she had not mentioned the jewelry. But she couldn't talk about that with this cold-eyed stranger.

"Of course not. It would take forever. Quite literally. Their demands would be never-ending." Superficially, he was at ease, but his eyes were hard and cold.

"I don't think we should give them any money at all," she said. "But then there are those pictures...."

"Indeed." He rose and gathered up the two pieces of paper. "You are not to fret yourself about this anymore."

"How can I not?" she protested. "Francis, you must tell me what you intend to do!"

He raised his brows. "Must? But surely this is just the kind of matter that a husband should handle for his wife. Particularly for his
enceinte
wife. Put it out of your mind, my dear." He seemed his usual courteous self. He was even smiling. But he was coated with a layer of ice. "I think it is time for us to dress now for the evening."

And he was gone.

Serena closed her eyes in despair. Clearly, he blamed her for this latest fiasco, and why not? It was her reputation that put them at risk, and her brothers who were trying to extort money from them.

Ten thousand pounds was an enormous sum of money. Perhaps even Francis could not afford that much.

What could she do to ease the threat both to her reputation and her happiness?

Serena rose purposefully to her feet. The only action within her power was to make this evening work so that her place in Society would be less vulnerable.

She
would
succeed.

* * *

As a consequence, though she was smiling, Serena was in a fiercely combative mood when she entered the grand drawing room of Belcraven House that evening. She was prepared to do anything to ensure her acceptance and render her brothers' threats toothless.

She was arrayed in another of Beth's gowns, this time a cream and chocolate creation with a wider skirt and heavily ornamented hem. It had been impossible to shorten such a hem, and so the whole border had been cut off and moved up the three inches. The gown had a stiff and heavy feel that suited Serena's belligerent mood entirely. On her head was an elaborate silk toque trimmed with pearls. She imagined it a helmet and liked the fact that it gave her height.

Frustratingly, there was nothing and no one to fight. The glittering, elegant company appeared to approve of her entirely. Serena was startled, however, to find that her first marriage was now being made known.

Mrs. Stine-Lowerstoft, a rather starchy lady, said, "Understand you were married to Riverton, Lady Middlethorpe. I gather he was quite an unpleasant character. You must have felt fortunate to be left in the country."

Serena agreed faintly and fled to Francis's side. "They know!" she whispered.

He drew her apart. "Yes. Don't worry. It's quite deliberate. This way we can control the information and some of your brothers' guns will be spiked."

"But Mrs. Stine-Lowerstoft seems to think I lived an innocent life in the country."

"You were certainly in the country," he said, and led her off to chat with another group. She recognized with despair that though he was at his most pleasant, that coating of ice was still there. In an attempt to thaw it, Serena applied her every talent to gaining acceptance from the guests.

It wasn't hard. Most of those invited for dinner had come prepared to accept her. It was clear the Rogues' connections had the full story and were allies. The few others were willing to believe the best.

Serena found herself talking to the Duchess of Yeovil, who was still in mourning for her younger son, killed at Waterloo. Serena expressed her condolences.

"It is very hard," said the duchess. "We never expect our grown children to die before us, and Dare was such a delight. A scapegrace at times, but a joy."

"He was one of these Rogues."

"Yes, indeed," said the duchess with a smile. "Such a collection, but a warmhearted bunch. He valued them deeply, and sometimes, I confess, I have felt that I had a dozen sons instead of only two." She went on to relate an occasion when Lord Darius had held a shooting party at their Somerset estate.

Serena was genuinely touched by the duchess's memories of her son and enjoyed hearing her stories. Afterward, however, when Francis said, "Well done. You have sealed the Yeovils' support," he made it sound as if she had been scheming.

Serena sighed and applied herself even harder to winning all hearts as her only route to winning his.

She tried especially hard with his mother, but though the dowager was superficially pleasant, there was no thawing her at all. When Serena saw Francis's mother being particularly sweet to Lady Anne, she gritted her teeth and resolved not to resent her gracious rival and her family.