Abruptly she looked away, lowering her eyes and bowing her head, her mouth twisting with obvious distress.
“Forgive me, Miss Carew,” he said with concern. “I did not intend to—”
“It is nothing,” she said, even as her fingers knotted the reins in her hands. With a shuddering sigh, she raised her face and turned toward him again.
The transformation stunned him. The fire, the spirit, the passion that he’d seen in her before had vanished, snuffed out as surely as a candle’s flame. Instead she’d again become the distant beauty from the ballroom, and she’d done it as swiftly as if she’d put on a mask. How many times had she done this before, buried her true self away like this?
“It’s you who must forgive me, Lord Geoffrey,” she said, her voice reduced to a refined murmur. “I fear again that I’ve said too much.”
“Not yet, Miss Carew, don’t retreat from me,” he said, determined not to let her disappear like this. “You don’t have to be this way for my sake.”
“But I do,” she said, with the same regret he’d heard when she’d left him last night. “I forget myself, you see, and I shouldn’t.”
“I’ll remember for you,” he said. “I won’t forget.”
“You won’t, will you?” Her smile was bittersweet, its brightness gone. “You said you wished to speak to me, Lord Geoffrey. Have you finished?”
“I’ve only begun, Miss Carew,” he said, frustration making him direct. “When you left me at the ball, my thoughts were so full of you that I couldn’t sleep, and I’ll wager fifty guineas that it will be the same tonight. I counted the hours until I would see you again, and I cursed the possibility that you would not come. You are unlike any other lady I have ever met, and yet at the same time I feel as if I’ve always known you, and if that is not kismet, then I don’t know what is.”
He’d spoken with far more honesty than he usually did, but he didn’t regret it, not with her.
She flushed and looked away, staring out at the bright new green of the budding trees and the first spring flowers and the curving silver strip of the Serpentine glittering in the late afternoon sun. One wispy tendril of her hair had slipped free of her hairpins and hat, and he watched how the breeze made it bounce lightly against the side of her throat.
“My father always tried to see the splendor in each day,” she said softly, still not looking his way. “He said it was the surest way to contentment. In India, it was easy, for there’s splendor to be found in every bright flower and bird, but when I came to England, everything seemed shrouded in gray and misery. Yet today, I see nothing but splendor, Lord Geoffrey, because you are here to see it with me.”
“Kismet,” he said without thinking. After vowing she wouldn’t speak of India, she’d done it twice today, and he understood what a sign of trust and confidence this must be for her. And then like a great, thoughtless lunk, he’d said the one word that had made her pull back from him. It did feel like kismet, or fate, or whatever in blazes it was that was simmering between them; she just didn’t want it said aloud, and he could understand that, too. Now he held his breath, hoping he hadn’t upset her again.
But her thoughts, it seemed, were somewhere else entirely.
“We’re at the Gate again,” she said as if she hadn’t heard him at all. “I must bid you farewell here, Lord Geoffrey.”
“Farewell?” he repeated, not happy. “Now?”
“Yes,” she said succinctly. “My aunt’s limit is three turns of the drive, which we have done. If I pretend I haven’t noticed, she’ll soon send one of the footmen forward to remind me.”
She turned her horse back to join her aunt’s carriage, and he swiftly followed. He’d been thinking of the usual next step for a late afternoon ride like this one: a light refreshment that would lead to an invitation to a leisurely, seductive dinner and a romantic night in her bed. He’d conveniently forgotten the fact that Miss Carew was not one of his ordinary lady-loves, but a chaperoned, genteel virgin, and that the rest of the day and night that he’d envisioned were completely out of the question.
“Then permit me to accompany you home,” he said, hoping for a few more minutes of her company. “You live in St. James’s Square, don’t you?”
“My grandfather’s house is there, yes,” she said. “But if you were to appear there with us, I do not believe his welcome would be very warm.”
She didn’t have to explain further. His brother Harry had warned him how the elderly marquis guarded his granddaughter’s virtue like a hawk, and it didn’t take much effort by Geoffrey to imagine how he’d be received if he came trailing along after the ladies. There’d be no surer way for her to be locked completely from him, and that he did not want.
“I must see you again,” he said, keeping his voice low so the footmen would not overhear. “When?”
“I shouldn’t,” she said with a small shrug. “There’s nothing to be gained for either of us.”
“There is,” he said, “and you know it as well as I.”
She glanced at him swiftly, her expression carefully unchanged. “I will be here in the park again tomorrow.”
“Good day to you, Lord Geoffrey,” Lady Morley said, smiling brightly from the carriage. Before her marriage, she, too, had been a Carew, but Geoffrey could see little family resemblance in her plump, overpowdered face. She was swathed in a fur-edged pelisse and hood and a great many ruffles, and only now did Geoffrey notice the small black dog curled on the seat beside her. “I’d no idea we’d be favored with your company today.”
“A fortuitous accident, Lady Morley,” he said easily. “Although given this fine spring afternoon, it would appear that most of London had the same notion.”
“You have certainly improved my niece’s afternoon,” Lady Morley said. There was sufficient shrewdness in her smile to prove that she realized the truth behind their meeting, but also that she wouldn’t contradict him. “Serena, my dear, have you asked Lord Geoffrey to join us for tea?”
Serena. The name suited her precisely, and he made the subtle shift in his head to think of her in that way instead of the formal “Miss Carew.”
She blushed. “He has other obligations, Aunt.”
“Is that true, Lord Geoffrey?” Lady Morley said. “I cannot believe that you have any obligation more pressing than taking a dish of tea with a beautiful young lady.”
“Aunt Morley, please,” Serena said, her discomfort clear. “Do not press.”
“My dear, it is not ‘pressing’ when spoken by someone of my vast age,” Lady Morley said, smiling not at Serena, but at Geoffrey. “Another time, then, Lord Geoffrey. I shall be delighted to receive you whenever you may call.”
“I shall be honored, Lady Morley,” Geoffrey said, bowing his head. As much as he hated parting with Serena, it was high time he left before her aunt began seeing him even more clearly as a prime matrimonial prospect for her niece. Tomorrow would be another day, and perhaps a better chance to meet with Serena alone. “Good day to you both. Lady Morley, Miss Carew. I shall count the minutes until tomorrow.”
Serena watched him ride away, trying as hard as she could to keep her face impassive so as to betray nothing to Aunt Morley. Her gaze lingered on his tall figure on the chestnut, his blue riding coat with the buff facings perfectly tailored for his broad shoulders and buckskin breeches snugly fitting his thighs above his boots. Other women turned to stare when he passed by, and she could not blame them. She was finding it impossible to look away herself, and he’d been with her for the last hour.
“Stop gawking at the gentleman, Serena,” her aunt said. “It’s very common.”
“Yes, Aunt,” she said, quickly looking away as if it were her own idea. She gathered her reins and smoothed her gloves over her hands, avoiding meeting her aunt’s gaze. “Shall we ride home?”
“We shall,” her aunt said. “But I would like you to join me here in the carriage so that we may speak more privately. I believe you and I have some matters that need discussion. Here, let John
hold your horse and help you down.”
Reluctantly Serena did as she was bid, letting the footman help her from the saddle and then up into the carriage to sit beside her aunt. Aunt Morley could call what was coming a “discussion,” but Serena already knew it was going to be more of a sermon, with very little discussing to it.
“Well, now,” Aunt Morley began. “Pray enlighten me, Serena. If I am to believe the proof of my eyes, Lord Geoffrey did not meet us here by accident, but by appointment, just as there is an arrangement for him to return here and repeat the exercise tomorrow. Is that the truth?”
Serena smoothed the fringed end of her sash across her lap, deliberately combing and arranging the silken fringes as neatly as she could with her fingers as she decided what to say next.
“Last night at the ball he mentioned that he rode in the park each day,” she finally began. “I told him that I did the same. That is as much of an appointment that there was between us.”
Aunt Morley sighed. “I suppose I must accept that, no matter that it has the taint of a half truth to it.”
“Aunt Morley, please, Lord Geoffrey and I didn’t—”
“No more, Serena, no more,” the older woman said with resignation, holding her palm up. “Let us leave that to the past, and anticipate the future. It’s not that I am displeased by Lord Geoffrey’s attentions. Far from it. He is the most imminently suitable gentleman that has yet to present himself to you as a suitor.”
This was exactly what Serena had expected her aunt to say, but that didn’t make it any more bearable. “He has done nothing of the sort, Aunt.”
“Oh?” Her aunt’s mouth formed a perfect oval of doubt and disappointment. “Then how exactly does he wish you to consider him, if not as a suitor for your hand?”
Serena didn’t answer. She’d nearly blurted out that he was her champion, a blunder that her aunt would never have understood. She still didn’t know why she’d used that particular word with Geoffrey—she’d already begun thinking of him by his Christian name alone, without his title—earlier, for she wouldn’t have been able to explain it to him, either.
But for him to be her champion—ah, it made perfect sense to her. In the zenana at Sundara Manōra the language had been quite frank regarding men and women and how they pleasured one another, and there had even been books with bawdy pictures passed around in case mere words failed. No one had tried to keep any of this from Savitri or her sister, and even Father had openly chosen concubines from among the servant-girls, young women who would eagerly spend the night in his bed in return for special privileges and trinkets. It followed naturally that Savitri and Asha, too, had been teased about their own future husbands and wedding nights.
The teasing been good-natured, but as two of the few virgins in the house, she and Asha had shied away from the coarser comments. Alone together, they’d invented much more romantic tales of the unknown men in their future, full of gallantry and true love. They’d called these men their “champions,” taking the word from a bedraggled book about knights and chivalry that Savitri had found in Father’s library. In their fantasies, their champions were always handsome men of courage with noble hearts and high-minded devotion, and they never expected any of the terrifyingly robust lovemaking that was all around them.
But then today with Geoffrey, she’d unwittingly mentioned the champions aloud, the first time she’d done so with anyone since Asha had died. Geoffrey had seized upon the word and not let it go, turning it into something else entirely—something exciting and romantic and a little dangerous, and more than enough to make her forget her resolution to not see him again.
“Well, Serena?” her aunt said eagerly, not hiding her impatience. “What was Lord Geoffrey saying to you in all that time you were riding side by side? If you mean that he has raised false hopes or behaved in any other dishonorable way, why, then—”
“No, Aunt, not at all,” Serena said. “He was most civil to me.”
He had flirted with her, and she had flirted back. She’d never done that before, and it had been … pleasurable.
And civil. That was the truth.
“I am glad to hear of it.” Her aunt sank back against the carriage’s leather squabs, drawing her spaniel, Fanfan, across her lap. Lightly she stroked the dog’s feathery ears, thinking. “You’ve done well for yourself to attract such a gentleman, Serena. Lord Geoffrey has a great deal to recommend himself.”
“Please don’t begin,” Serena said with dismay. “Please, Aunt.”
“Hush, and listen to me,” her aunt said, unperturbed. “He is young and handsome and charming, which pleases you. He is a second son, true, but he is wealthy in his own right, having been left diverse properties and interests in several profitable ventures by an unmarried uncle on his mother’s side. He will not be looking at you and seeing only golden guineas, all of which pleases me.”
Serena winced, uncomfortable with her aunt’s obvious relish over such mercenary details of Lord Geoffrey’s private affairs. “How do you come to know that of him?”
“I have my informants,” Aunt Morley said. “I know financial matters seem tawdry to you, my dear, but for your future security, it is wise to have them known and settled now, before any attachments are made. He has had the usual petite amours, but nothing of any consequence. There is also a fair chance that he may inherit the dukedom from his brother, whose wife has yet to produce a son. No, the only unfortunate aspect to Lord Geoffrey lies in his family history, and it will be a sizable objection to your grandfather.”
“But Lord Geoffrey’s father is a duke!” Serena exclaimed. “How could Grandpapa object to that?”
“Because he is the Duke of Breconridge, my dear.” Aunt Morley lowered her voice, as if whispering about a scandal would somehow lessen its wickedness. “Which means to your grandfather, he is not quite a proper duke. Our family’s title and lands were honorably won centuries ago beside the Plantagenets on the battlefield, but the Fitzroys owe their fortune to a certain immoral Frenchwoman and her bastards by the king, not a hundred years past. Oh, I know Lord Geoffrey’s father is as close as can be to His Majesty and cuts a fine figure at court, but the whole family still has the blood of that dreadful woman in their veins, and your grandfather will not be easily won over. You know how proud he is of our family’s heritage.”
“I do know,” Serena said faintly. How could she not? From the first night she’d spent in the grand house in St. James’s Square, she’d realized that Grandpapa had no notion of the life his younger son—her father—had led in India, let alone the truth about herself.
“I shall simply have to convince him of Lord Geoffrey’s other merits,” Aunt Morley continued, nodding graciously at a friend in a passing carriage. “He shall fuss and rage in the beginning, but when he calms himself he shall see what a splendid suitor Lord Geoffrey is for you, then—”
“Please don’t say a word to Grandpapa,” Serena said, twisting on the seat to face her aunt. “Lord Fitzroy is not my suitor, not now or ever. He is simply an acquaintance.”
“But perhaps with time, your acquaintance will grow, and he will become—”
“It will not happen, Aunt, because I do not wish to marry,” Serena said swiftly. “Father left me the means to be independent, and I shall be far more content as a spinster than having to answer to a husband. I have told you and Grandpapa this before, and I intend to keep my word.”
Aunt Morley’s expression darkened beneath the ruffled brim of her cap as she clucked her tongue with disapproval.
“Such nonsense, Serena,” she said. “As if repeating it will make it any less foolish! Of course you shall marry. All the money in the world will be a cold comfort to you without the love and companionship of a husband and children.”
The words rang true to Serena as they always did. How could she not want love and companionship? In the seven years since she’d lost everything and been brought to England, her heart had ached for exactly that. But to keep her secret safe, she ha
d to keep herself apart from others, and not risk the danger of revealing too much. She knew she’d no alternative, yet meeting a man like Geoffrey had only sharpened the too-familiar longing for that elusive, imagined love and a respite from her loneliness. How could she not crave the love and friendship that would come with marriage?
“Yes, you have no counter to that, do you?” Aunt Morley continued. “Independence at your age may seem like a fine dream, but it will sour quickly, and then where shall you be?”
Serena raised her chin, determined to stand firm. “I will be content, Aunt Morley.”
“What you will be is alone and pitied,” her aunt declared, “and neither your grandfather nor I wish to see you reduced to such a sorry state. It is completely unnatural and unwomanly, especially after all that your poor father did to ensure you had a suitable settlement. You are a Carew, my dear. You will have your choice of gentlemen, an opportunity very few young women are granted. Why you insist on this stubborn, misguided course of spinsterhood is beyond me.”
Serena stared down at her hands in her lap, struggling to keep back her tears. She’d had nearly this same conversation with her aunt more times than she could count, and before this she’d always been strong and sure of herself. But now, because of Geoffrey, she felt the strength that had always held her steady ebbing away and her resolution grow weak and shaken.
Today as they’d ridden side by side, he’d reminded her once more of kismet, and again she wondered if this—if he—was truly her fate. What if he was meant to be her champion, not just in flirtatious jest, but in reality? What if he was in fact the one man in the world for her to love?
And what if they did marry? She would have his love, his trust, his loyalty, and she would become part of his family. But would all that be enough to face the truth of her past?
What would the proud, powerful Duke of Breconridge say if he was to learn that his son had married the illegitimate daughter of a Golconda brothel-dancer? And what would Geoffrey himself say if, in time, she presented him with the ultimate proof of her heritage and her deception: a child with dark hair and dark skin and nothing English in his features?
A Sinful Deception Page 5
