by Gaelen Foley
CHAPTER 15
The Past Catches Up
Up in the drawing room, Serena and her mother gasped simultaneously at the sound of the door slamming below. They both knew in an instant who it was, and shot to their feet. They were already rushing out of the room as Papa’s roar reverberated up from the entrance hall.
“What are you doing here, you demon? You have no further claim on this family! I’ll not let another Rivenwood drag us all back down to hell!”
“Papa, no!” Serena cried from the railing of the upstairs hallway, then bolted down the stairs, appalled by what she saw.
With her two hefty younger brothers flanking him, Papa had shoved Azrael against the wall. Dunny had drawn back his meaty fist to strike, but Azrael made no move to defend himself.
The brawny, russet-haired earl looked over his shoulder at the sound of her voice. “Serena? What are you doing home?”
“I’ll tell you, but first let him go.” She rushed over to her fiancé’s side against the wall, ready to protect him however she could.
Azrael cast her a grim look askance.
“George, let His Grace be,” Mama ordered, joining them.
“What is going on here, Mariah?” he demanded.
“I will explain, but there is no need for violence. Please, George.”
Clearly confused, his bushy reddish eyebrows drawn into a line, Dunhaven released Azrael, stepping back from him with a scowl.
Meanwhile, Serena’s two chunky younger brothers, George Jr. and Tom, looked surprised to find their sister home unannounced.
As she stood by Azrael’s side, it seemed that even the two boys began to realize there was some sort of mischief afoot. They glanced from her to Azrael with confused suspicion on their round, freckled faces.
Papa also seemed to be putting two and two together. “Someone had better start talking,” he growled.
Mama sighed wearily. “They’ve found each other, George,” was all she said.
Incredulity scrunching up his face, Papa looked from Serena to Azrael, and then back at his wife.
“No,” he suddenly said. “Absolutely not. You can’t have her, you hear me? You gave her up. It’s too late.”
“Papa!”
“Sir, I love your daughter—”
“You shut your bloody mouth, Rivenwood! I want none of your lies under my roof.”
“Papa, I think you’re getting Azrael confused with his father. He’s not like that. Please—I’m marrying him, and there’s nothing you can do to stop us.”
“You listen here, cheeky, I am your father!” he bellowed, but Azrael, staring at him in defiance, laid a hand gently—possessively—on Serena’s shoulder.
The wordless statement of his protection only enraged Papa more. His broad face reddened. “How dare you touch her?”
“George,” Mama said as Azrael removed his hand from her shoulder, his point made.
Serena sent her dam a pleading look. Only her mother could control the old brawler when he lost his temper.
“Listen to me,” the countess said in a steady tone, gliding over to his side. “He is not the villain we assumed, my love. They won’t be dissuaded.”
“Over my dead body,” Dunny said.
“Darling,” the countess said quietly to her husband, “they have to marry now.”
“What?”
Her brothers’ eyes popped open wide, the puppyish seventeen-year-old, George Jr., with a start of indignation, understanding. But Tom, age fourteen, looked bewildered.
“Why?” he mumbled.
No one answered.
George Jr. growled. Serena gave him a quick sisterly glare that said shut up.
Papa, however, let out a curse word that Serena had never heard him use before, then called Azrael the son of Lucifer.
But when he lifted his rifle and aimed it at him, she shrieked in terror, Azrael drew back against the wall, and Mama stepped in the way, pushing the barrel toward the ceiling.
“Stop it,” she commanded in a steely tone. “They are in love. We will not destroy our daughter’s happiness.”
“He’s ruined her, he’s stolen her, and happiness is what you call it?” Dunny retorted. “This is your doing, Mariah. You’re the one who spoiled her.”
Mama stared fearlessly at him, though her mate towered over her. “Give him a chance.”
Something in her stare brought Papa to heel, just as it always had.
He lowered his weapon with a growl.
Serena’s pulse pounded and her stomach churned, but although Papa glared at his wife, he did not try to prevent her from lifting his gun out of his grasp.
Lady Dunhaven handed the hunting rifle off to Tom with a look that needed no words, ordering him to take it away, and to get his brother’s gun, as well.
The milder-tempered fourteen-year-old went over to ask for his elder brother’s rifle, to return to the gun case.
George Jr. tried to resist being disarmed, but Mama hissed at him, and the big, husky seventeen-year-old handed his gun over to his younger brother with a sulk, then glared at Azrael.
Tom marched off to put their weapons in the gun case.
Papa just shook his head at Serena, disappointment stamped all over his face.
She struggled for something to say. “I’m sorry, Papa,” she said, scarlet-faced over her willing role in her own seduction.
The big man simply scoffed, glowered once more at his future son-in-law, then stomped out of the entrance hall to disappear into his study down the hallway.
Serena shut her eyes for a second, then turned to make sure Azrael was all right.
“I think I’d better leave,” he murmured.
“Please do!” George Jr. huffed.
“Junior, for heaven’s sake, go take off your muddy boots!” Mama said.
The lad gave Azrael a parting glower just like Papa’s, but he obeyed Mama as surely as his father had.
Serena sent her mother a look of thanks, then touched Azrael’s arm gently. “Don’t go anywhere yet,” she murmured. “Let me talk to him first. I’m sure he’ll come around. Just give us a few minutes.”
“Perhaps I should come with you.”
“God, no. Stay back—just don’t leave.” As she hurried after Papa, her mother and Azrael stood in the entrance hall gazing awkwardly at each other. She could hear their exchange.
“Thanks for saving my life,” he said drily.
“He wouldn’t have done it,” Mama assured him.
Serena paused outside the open door to Lord Dunhaven’s study. It was officially a library, but she was fairly sure he had never read a single book in there.
She closed her eyes to steady herself before going in, embarrassed at having to own up to her seduction. Yet she was not ashamed of what they’d done last night, and felt no regret whatsoever.
They were going to marry, anyway. She reminded herself of what Azrael had said in the coach—their becoming lovers was nothing compared to some of her parents’ antics when they were their age.
Bolstered by these thoughts, she flicked her eyes open and stepped cautiously over the threshold.
Lord Dunhaven was sitting on a leather ottoman with his back to her, staring into the unlit fireplace, and holding a small glass of scotch.
“Papa?”
He huffed but did not turn around, grumbling something under his breath about beautiful women being too damned difficult to manage.
Serena stopped just inside the doorway, twisting her clasped fingers together. As angry as he was—rightfully so, in hindsight—she agreed with Mama. He would not really have pulled the trigger on Azrael.
Punched him, yes. Shot him, no.
He didn’t have it in him.
Indeed, now that she had the answer she’d sought for so long about the identity of her natural father, all the evidence she’d read about Lord Stiver from the snakeskin box, and both Mama and Azrael’s accounts of what sort of man he was, she appreciated Papa all the more.
“I’m sorry I upset
you, Papa.” She hung back near the door. “But I beg you to understand. Azrael and I have fallen in love.”
“Cursed,” he ground out with a scoff. He shook his head and kept his back to her. “Fool girl! All I ever wanted was to protect your mother and this family—but off you go, headstrong as she was, dancin’ with your own destruction. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Actually, Papa, I do. Azrael is not a part of his father’s cult. He never was. Unlike you and Mama.”
He turned around at last, looking stunned not merely by her impertinent reproach, but to hear that she’d found out about her parents’ wild youth.
“Did you two think you could hide it from me forever? I know about my sister, too.”
He flinched and lowered his head.
Serena held her ground. “I’m sorry for everything you both went through, but there was no need to hide her existence from me.”
“It was too painful,” he said. “Your mother feared even to speak of it. As if talking about it would make it happen again. To you. Or the boys.”
“Well, just so you know, Azrael has nothing to do with his father’s group. He hates it,” she said. “He’s always hated everything about it. In fact”—she hesitated—“he means to destroy it.”
“Is that so?” He raised his head to eye her skeptically.
She nodded. “All those wicked men you used to know, his father’s friends, he’s going to fight them.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But he means to see them brought to justice, and I believe in him.”
“Huh.” The big, gruff earl lurched up from the ottoman and came over to her, lifting her chin with his fingertips. He stared into her eyes. “Just one question, Serena, and you tell your papa the truth. Did he force himself on you?”
“What? No!”
“Did he trick you? Manipulate you? Scare you into it?”
“No, Papa!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “Azrael would never do such a thing! He’s a good man. That’s why I chose him. Come, Papa, you always said I was a down-to-earth, sensible girl. Do you not trust my judgment?”
He studied her, debating this with himself, and she could fairly see the wheels turning in his mind. “Fight them, you say?”
She nodded.
He snorted all of a sudden. “Well, I want in on that.” Without warning, he marched back out to the entrance hall.
Baffled, Serena scrambled after him in a rustle of skirts.
When he strode back out to the entrance hall, Azrael came to attention.
“She says you’re going to fight ’em,” Dunny declared as he came to stand before the duke, feet planted wide, arms akimbo.
Azrael nodded.
“You swear this is true?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. But you’ll need help. Junior! Pack your bags!” he bellowed.
“Sir, no!” Azrael exclaimed, as aghast at this prospect as both Dunhaven women were.
“George, what are you thinking?” Mama said, going ashen. “You cannot be involved in this, and neither can my son. He’s just a boy! I can’t lose my child, or you.”
“I owe those sons o’ bitches, Mariah, and you know why.” He slanted her a hard look. “Especially Stiver.”
Utter silence dropped.
For the three of them—Serena, Azrael, and the countess—all knew what thickheaded old Dunny was saying in that moment.
He knew.
He’d known all this time that Serena wasn’t his.
“I’m not quite as dense as you think, love,” he said softly to his horrified wife.
Lady Dunhaven covered her mouth with both hands and fled the entrance hall in tears.
Serena and Azrael glanced at each other in shock.
Papa watched her go, making no move to follow.
Just then, Junior peered over the edge of the railing above. “Did you call me, sir?”
“Pack your things, lad. We’re going to London.”
Tom flung eagerly up to the railing beside his elder brother. “Can I come, too?”
“No.”
“Aww, why does he get to do everything?” the youngest whined.
“Sir,” Azrael broke in, “I appreciate the offer, truly, but I most assuredly do not need your help, or your boy’s. Any information you can share that I might not know about would be welcome, but leave the battle to me, I implore you. Once things are set in motion, you’ll be needed here to protect your family.”
“Papa, Azrael has a plan,” Serena said, barely recovered from learning that her mother’s “secret” had been no secret from her husband after all.
“Oh really? Let’s hear it.” Dunny propped his giant fists on his waist. “Must be quite ingenious if you think you can take these bleeders on yourself. Or maybe you command the spirits like your sire did, eh? Got an army of devils to come and assist you?”
“On the contrary, sir. I’m taking my case to the Order of St. Michael the Archangel.”
Papa fell silent for a moment, and the grim way he looked at Azrael worried Serena. “You sure about that? You go callin’ on those boys, mate, you might never come back. Far as I know, those chaps make men with your kind of bloodlines disappear. Permanently.”
“Azrael?” Serena asked with mounting alarm.
“It’ll be all right,” he said, then addressed the earl again. “Our paths have crossed before. I was approached when I was just a lad by one of their agents. He offered me the Order’s help if I ever wished to turn informant. Well, now’s the time. It may be over twenty years after the fact, but better late than never.”
Papa sized him up. “You pull this off and, aye, I’ll let you marry my daughter.”
Behind him, Serena rolled her eyes. She was legally old enough to wed whoever she wanted, and Papa knew it. It was just bluster.
She looked at Azrael, who sent her a discreet look of amusement.
“Well then, in that case, sir, I’d best be about my task.” He cleared his throat a bit. “I bid you a good day, sir. Gentlemen.” He nodded to the boys still standing at the top of the stairs, listening to everything. “Lady Serena. Please give the countess my regards.”
With that, he gave her family a formal bow, then headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Papa asked when Serena hurried after him.
“To see him out.”
“Humph. Don’t take too long. And no kissing!”
Tom feigned a gagging noise at that.
Azrael let himself out without further comment, and Serena cringed at how he’d been treated as she stepped outside after him, pulling the door shut behind her.
“Must you go?”
“Oh, I think it’s advisable,” he said drily. “I’ve already intruded enough.”
She winced, turning to him. “I’m so sorry.”
He smiled. “I don’t think it went too badly, do you?”
She gave him an arch look, wishing she had grabbed her mantle. It was cold out. “Where will you go?”
He took both her hands in his. “I’m heading back to London before he insists on ‘helping’ me and gets us both killed. Don’t mistake me, he’s a good man. But I’m afraid His Lordship has got all the subtlety of a bulldog with a blunderbuss, and I’m sure this will be a very delicate operation, requiring finesse. I don’t want the boy involved, either.”
She nodded. “I understand. Still, I hate to see you go.” She paused. “Maybe I could come with you.”
“No, darling, you stay here and smooth things over with your family. I daresay we’ve given everyone enough of a shock with our announcement. Besides, it appears your parents have a few personal matters to sort out privately. They don’t need me here, getting in the way.” He glanced at her, reading her face. “At least now you finally got your answer.”
“Ugh.” She shook her head, still at a loss over the price her mother had paid to gain her freedom. “Well, you might as well say it, Azrael.”
“Say w
hat?”
“I told you so. You warned me I wouldn’t like the answer I would find, and you were right.”
He smiled ruefully. “I’m not going to say it. But I did.”
Laughing softly, she slipped her arms around his waist, then gazed up at him for a moment. “I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds with what I said to Mama in the drawing room. I didn’t mean to put words in your mouth. Mainly, I just wanted to put her mind at ease about the two of us.”
His gaze caressed her. “You mean when you told her you love me and that I love you?”
She nodded shyly. “It’s true for me, I know that much. But if it’s too soon, it’s all right, you don’t have to say it—”
“Serena,” he interrupted in a silken whisper, capturing her face between his hands. He stared into her eyes. “I love you.”
Then he lowered his head and gave her a deep, slow, luscious kiss, gathering her into his arms. Serena’s heart soared at his ardent answer.
She lifted her arms around his neck and returned his kisses with breathless abandon.
At length, their kiss ended, and he rested his forehead against hers.
“I never thought I’d ever feel this way about anyone,” he breathed. “Thank you for loving me.”
“Oh, sweeting.” Standing on her toes, she hugged him tenderly, then closed her eyes and rested her head on his broad shoulder.
One arm around her waist, Azrael caressed her hair with his other hand. “Listen, it’s cold out here. You should get back inside, and I really should go,” he murmured after a moment. “Once all this is over, then our lives together can really begin.”
She conceded this with a pensive nod and somehow found the strength to let him go. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise.” He stepped back, but held on to her hands, his gaze locked on hers.
“Write to me and let me know you’re safe, or I’ll go mad with worry.”
“I will, and no you won’t.” He smiled with gentle affection. “You’ll be too busy planning our wedding.”
She beamed at that.
“Which reminds me. I’ve got to find you a ring when I get back to Town.”
“In due time, Your Grace. I think you’ll have your hands full enough as it is.”
“I’ll send for you as soon as it’s safe.”
