by Gaelen Foley
With an adoring look, she captured his hand where he had pressed it to her face, and gripped his fingers, giving them a squeeze.
He winked at her for encouragement, then she squared her shoulders and they both got out of the coach.
The manor’s front door opened even before they reached it, and there stood a short, stout butler, gaping in amazement.
“Lady Serena! Come in!”
“Hullo, Bosworth. I’ll bet you weren’t expecting me.”
“Heavens no! Sir.” Bosworth nodded politely to Azrael as he opened the door wider for them both. “Welcome,” he added, already looking troubled that there was no maid and no chaperone with the young lady.
Azrael followed her into a simple entrance hall painted a predictable green, with an oaken staircase built on strong but uninspired lines.
Serena’s smile was tense as the butler closed the door behind them. “Is Mama at home?”
Caught studying Azrael with a look of increasing alarm, Bosworth turned to her again. “Wh-why, yes, milady,” he said. “Upstairs in the drawing room. Shall I—”
“And Papa?” she interrupted while Azrael remained near the door, hat in hand.
He was rather wondering that himself.
“His Lordship has gone out shooting with your brothers, milady.”
Azrael and she exchanged a glance.
On the one hand, he was glad to hear they had a temporary reprieve. Unfortunately, it also meant that when the Dunhaven males returned home, they would be armed.
Perhaps he should worry.
Bosworth hastily took their hats and Serena’s mantle and went to hang them up on the coat tree in the corner.
“I’ll go tell Her Ladyship you’ve come,” he said, but this proved unnecessary, for at that moment, Lady Dunhaven herself appeared at the top of the staircase.
“Serena!”
They heard her gasp, and looked up.
“Serena, what are you doing here? Is everything all right?” Her mother came running down the stairs in a flurry of footsteps, scanning her daughter with a panicked look.
Damned if Serena didn’t look exactly like her mother, thought Azrael. Only the original copy, now in her forties, carried an extra stone of weight on her more statuesque frame, and silver streaks sparkled in her coal-black hair.
Even so, there was such a striking resemblance between them that it was no surprise the countess had got away with her deception since Serena’s birth. The daughter looked so much like her dam that it would probably never occur to most people to question the identity of her sire.
The countess had not yet noticed Azrael, standing by the door. “Darling, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“No, Mama, I’m fine.” Serena strode to the foot of the staircase, her skirts whisking over the marble floor. “I…I just had to see you.”
Clearly taken aback, her mother approached more slowly.
“Mama, I don’t want to fight with you anymore,” Serena wrenched out.
He could hear the flutter of tears in her voice, and saw an answering look on her mother’s face.
The butler took that as his cue to bow out.
“Oh, darling,” Lady Dunhaven murmured, her stare locked on her daughter’s face. “I don’t either.”
Azrael hung back, holding his breath at the strangely intimate reunion of two women who obviously loved each other very much.
Their only problem, he suspected, was that maybe they were too much alike. Clashes would’ve been inevitable.
“Oh, Mama, how I’ve missed you!” Serena suddenly said, and ran to her.
“Sweeting.”
Azrael didn’t know where to look when her mother sobbed in answer and reached the bottom step, where she caught her daughter up in a fierce embrace.
They hugged each other hard for a long moment.
Though she’d squeezed her eyes shut, twin tears rolled down Lady Dunhaven’s face, an older mirror of her daughter’s.
“I’m so sorry, Mama, for fighting with you and for everything you went through,” Serena said. “I didn’t understand till now. You’ve suffered so terribly. But I love you. I only want to help.”
“My darling girl.” Her mother hugged her for all she was worth, then captured her face between her hands. “All that matters is you’re here now. I love you so much.”
“But, Mama, we really have to talk.”
Lady Dunhaven sniffled and nodded. “Yes. You’re right, of course. I know.”
Azrael waited discreetly, awash in awkwardness.
Lady Dunhaven drew back a bit from her daughter, but kept an arm around her waist. “Come up to the drawing room, darling. We’ll take refreshments. This calls for a celebration. I can’t believe you’re here!”
“Um, Mama, I haven’t come alone.”
“Is Tamsin here?”
“Er, no.” Serena sent a meaningful nod in Azrael’s direction.
He lifted his head and took a step forward, offering the countess a wary nod. “Lady Dunhaven.”
Her eyes widened. She reached for the banister and steadied herself as the blood drained from her face.
“Rivenwood!” she whispered, staring at Azrael as though a large serpent had just slithered into her house. “What are you doing here?”
“Azrael’s the reason I came home to you, Mama,” Serena said calmly, hesitating. “I have a lot to tell you.”
“But—he can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here!” Lady Dunhaven cried in fearful tones of reproach.
Serena laid her hand on her mother’s forearm. “It’s all right, Mama. Azrael is not like his father. Surely you know that. That’s why he broke off our betrothal.”
“You know about that?” Her mother glanced in shock from her to Azrael. “How much have you told her?”
“Everything I know,” he replied.
She gasped. “How could you?”
“She deserves the truth,” he said.
“Mama, Azrael’s got nothing to do with—the things his father was involved in. He’s as much against it as you are, I swear.”
Again, her mother glared at him, looking slightly panicked. He took a step closer.
“My lady, I mean you no harm,” he said, choosing his words with care. “Your daughter and I have been working together to sort out some unanswered questions from the past. However, there is one piece of information that only you can provide. You know of what I speak,” he added in a hard tone, “and on this, you will give my future bride an answer.”
Lady Dunhaven looked swiftly at her daughter. “Bride?”
He saw Serena brace herself. “Yes, Mother,” she said. “We are going to be married.”
The countess recoiled. “No!”
“Yes, Mama. Yes,” Serena said in a softer tone. “I love Azrael, and he loves me.” Then she glanced at him, for they had not actually exchanged I love yous yet.
But it was true for him, and he rejoiced inwardly to hear her say it. From across the entrance hall, he offered his future wife a tender smile, aware of nothing in that moment but her.
Her lashes fluttered as she read the meaning in his heartfelt gaze, and her lips trembled, then she turned back to her mother.
“We want to be together,” she said, “and no one can prevent us. It is already done.”
Azrael stood unmoving in the entrance hall, his expression humble but in full accord with Serena’s statement.
Glancing from one to the other and back again, at last, the countess seemed to absorb what they were saying.
That they’d already made love.
To his relief, the countess looked more confused than angry about it.
Well, he thought, at least she was no hypocrite. Lady Dunhaven licked her lips and finally gathered her thoughts.
“Both of you, upstairs,” she ordered. “It won’t do for Papa to see Azrael here first thing when he gets back. Bosworth! Bring us tea in the drawing room,” she instructed when the butler came scurrying.
“Yes, Your Ladyship.” The little fellow bowed and withdrew.
Serena gave Azrael a reassuring look and beckoned him upstairs, where all three of them repaired to the drawing room.
The countess closed the door behind them, a leery eye fixed on her daughter. “I told you that you were forbidden to go near him.”
“Yes, and that was the only thing you told me, Mama. If you would’ve simply shared the rest of the story… But your refusal to talk to me is what sent me seeking answers from Azrael in the first place. He, at least, has been honest with me.”
“You’re deluded, Serena. You can’t trust these people!” Lady Dunhaven cried with an angry gesture at him. “You have no idea how hard I fought to keep you away from all that, and now you’ve walked right back into the trap. Well, it won’t work.” She turned to Azrael, her hazel eyes blazing with defiance, the color finally returning to her cheeks. “You cannot have my daughter. I am not going to let you drag her back into that unspeakable—”
“Mother, Azrael wants out, too. He’s not one of them,” Serena insisted. “Don’t you see? That’s why he’s here. In fact”—she glanced at him—“he means to bring an end to their activities.”
“That’s part of why we need your help,” Azrael added, unmoved by the countess’s tirade.
Lady Dunhaven lowered her head and rested her fingers atop the Bible sitting on the table by the couch. Her touchstone seemed to calm her down a bit, though she still trembled visibly.
Serena went over and laid a reassuring hand on her arm. “You can trust him, Mother. Azrael’s going to help us. He’s a good man, and I love him.”
The countess studied him with a dubious frown.
Just then, Bosworth knocked and brought in the tea. No one made any move to touch it or said a word as the servant hurried out, obviously noting the tension.
When he had gone, Azrael looked at the countess. “It’s time to come clean, my lady. The more forthcoming you choose to be with information, the better my chances of removing any future threat of danger from these men to you or your family.”
She sat down slowly on the sofa but turned her gaze away. “You want to know about Serena’s natural father?”
“Yes, Mother.” Serena lowered herself to perch tensely on the edge of the sofa. “Please tell us who it was.”
The countess was silent, staring out the window at the bleak landscape.
Azrael frowned. “At least explain how it was that you and your husband were permitted to leave the organization.”
A low, bitter scoff escaped her.
For a long moment, the countess looked wistfully at Serena, then at him. Then she dropped her gaze to the floor.
“There was only one reason we were allowed to leave,” she said in a low tone of disgust. “Because I finally gave Stiver what he wanted.”
Serena’s eyes widened—and Azrael’s heart sank.
“It wasn’t just once. That’s how I know he was the one.” She looked at Serena. “I’m sorry, darling. The Earl of Stiver, he’s your father. I had no choice.”
Serena laid a comforting hand on her shoulder as the countess forced herself to continue.
“He’d been after me for years, ever since I was a girl and he was but a young man. But I always refused. He made my skin crawl. But once your father died,” she said with a grim glance at Azrael, “he only chased me harder. He loved the power he’d come into after taking Rivenwood’s place as the leader.”
She paused, closing her eyes. “After losing my firstborn because of those people, because of what we all did, I would’ve paid any price to escape their cursed company, believe me. So I let him have his way.” She shuddered. “I dreaded it every time I heard his footsteps on the cellar stairs in the dead of night. I could hear them from my room.”
“From the cellar?” Azrael asked.
“He’d use the secret tunnels that connect the five houses through the barrow.”
Tunnels? He made a mental note of that while the countess turned to Serena.
“Darling, you must never tell Papa of this. They’d have killed him if they ever thought that he’d become a problem. I promised he would not.”
“I won’t, Mama,” Serena promised, looking overwhelmed.
Lady Dunhaven collected her frayed composure, gazing at her daughter with regret. “You were one of the main reasons Stiver left me alone. When he found out I was carrying his child, he was quite happy about it.”
“And you, Mama?”
“I didn’t expect to have another baby so soon after losing Georgette. And as I said, I despised him. But, you know, I forgot all my shame at his hands from the moment I beheld your face. So perfect, so strong a babe.” She took Serena’s hand. “You gripped my finger so hard when you were just a newborn, I used to think you’d pull it off.”
Tears in her eyes, Serena clung to her mother’s hand.
Lady Dunhaven shook her head. “I did not want to be Stiver’s mistress, but I had to pay for my sins. And it was the only way he’d let us go, both me and your papa. I was fortunate that was all he asked.” She paused with a shudder. “It could’ve been worse. Much worse. He took pity on me…because of you, my dear. He was terribly proud of you. That’s why he wanted you pledged to the next Duke of Rivenwood. By then, you see, Azrael was also under his control.”
Lady Dunhaven glanced at him, perhaps realizing, as he did, the kinship they shared as two of Stiver’s former victims.
“He yearned to blend his bloodline with Rivenwood’s. Said there’d be no higher honor for the daughter we had made than to pledge her to the next duke. What could I do but agree?
“He held all the power. If I refused, he would’ve killed Dunny. The only one who ever really loved me. I was not a good wife, but I loved my husband in my own fashion.”
The countess blinked away tears. “And so Stiver had me right where he wanted me. Under his thumb.” She shrugged. “I went along with the betrothal at the time. However, since I assumed that Azrael would grow up to be just like his father, I always planned to spirit you away somewhere, Serena, before you came of age. Someplace they’d never find you.”
She glanced at Azrael again. “Then one day, out of the blue, you came here seeking to dissolve the betrothal, and there was nothing Stiver could do about it. I was never so relieved in all my life.
“Yet I always feared, deep down, that when you saw the beauty she’d grown into, you’d change your mind.” The countess shook her head, blotting away a tear. “I knew this would happen. It’s the curse again.”
“It’s not a curse, Mama. We love each other.”
“Is a Rivenwood even capable of love?”
Azrael could not hide his wince at her question. He looked away, but Serena frowned at her mother.
“Very much so. Azrael is kind and honorable and gentle with me. You must give him a chance. He only wants to help. Nobody suffered more under the late duke’s cruelty than he did.”
Her mother glanced over at him uncertainly.
“Come, doesn’t the Bible say we must forgive if we wish to be forgiven?” Serena reminded her. “It wasn’t Azrael who wronged you, anyway. He was just a child himself then. He had nothing to do with it.” She shook her head. “He was just a pawn.”
“Yes. I suppose that is true,” the countess said quietly, then took a deep breath and looked at Azrael again. “I’m sorry if I misjudged you. My daughter is quite right. You showed honor in releasing her years ago from the arrangement. And even if fate has played its hand, you don’t deserve to be held accountable for your father’s misdeeds, or your guardian’s.
“And if my daughter loves you, then you must have a good heart, whatever your origins, for she’s always been much cleverer than me.”
Serena hugged her mother after that. At least now she had the answer she’d wanted so badly.
He wondered if she already regretted it. She seemed dazed by the news, not just of her father’s identity, but of the price her mother had paid for her free
dom.
Mingling their tears, the two women barely seemed aware of him now. Azrael murmured his thanks for Lady Dunhaven’s willingness to at least give him a chance, but then stepped out of the room, leaving the pair to mend their bond.
No wonder it had bothered Serena so much to realize her mother had been lying to her all her life, when the countess was practically her best friend, by the look of it.
Himself, he’d never had any sort of intimate family connection like that, but maybe someday he would. Maybe he’d have children of his own to love and get the chance to be a proper sort of father.
All he knew was that, whatever sort of hussy the beautiful Mariah had been in her youth, she seemed to be a doting mother.
He got the feeling that the way she had survived the crushing loss of her firstborn daughter all those years ago was by devoting herself all the more to raising her subsequent children.
As for his former guardian, Azrael was deeply disgusted to hear that Stiver had extorted the woman for sex.
Disgusted, but not surprised. The man had his appetites.
At least now he knew where Serena got her passionate nature.
There were other similarities, as well, now that he reflected on it. Stiver was an intelligent man, handsome for his age, with dapper tastes, and quite healthy, as far as Azrael knew. Physically, at least.
Pondering this new information, Azrael wandered down the stairs to the entrance hall.
He glanced around for the butler, thinking he’d inquire if there was a particular room nearby where he should remove himself to sit and wait for his lady like a good fiancé. What was the little chap’s name again?
“Er, Bosworth?” he called down the corridor leading off the entrance hall.
All of a sudden, behind him, the front door barreled open.
“Mariah!” a loud, jovial voice boomed. “Whose carriage is outside? Have we got visitors?”
Azrael spun around and found himself face to face with a large, stout bear of a man—the Earl of Dunhaven.
And his hunting rifle.
The ruddiness instantly drained from Dunny’s beefy face. He slammed the door behind him, staring at Azrael like he’d seen a ghost.
“You!”
