by Shayla Black
“I am ever aware of that, Grandy,” Serena answered patiently.
“When I was your age, I had two children and one on the way. I only stopped conceiving when I started refusing Aldus.” Her grandmother’s blue eyes narrowed. “Is that your game?”
Serena felt her cheeks heat up. “Grandy! Such indelicate talk is—”
“Warranted in this situation,” she interrupted. “Are you barring your door against him?”
“Of course not. I try to be a dutiful wife in all respects.”
“You try? Is something wrong between you?”
She looked away, shifting uneasily. “Grandy, this is something Cyrus and I must work out.”
“You look unhappy. Are you quarreling?”
Serena shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”
Grandy took her hand. “Oh child, you must tell me it’s not true.”
“What?” Serena whispered, feeling an ominous sweep across her heart.
Her grandmother frowned, her eyes full of displeasure. “The gossip before you two wed was that he had cast aside his mistress of many years because he was no longer...capable.”
Cyrus had kept a mistress? Serena shouldn’t be surprised, as nearly all men of wealth did.
“Capable?”
Her grandmother nodded. “That he is impotent. And I would say Madame Maria ought to know. She bore your husband three daughters.”
Serena’s mouth fell open in shock as a hot bolt of envy pierced her. Another woman had borne Cyrus’s girls, and she, his wife, would never conceive. How unfair!
“Serena, is this true?”
Numbly, she nodded. Here was a whole part of Cyrus’s life she knew nothing of. She had never heard of Madame Maria or her children. A thousand questions, along with a well of pain, rose up within her, leaving her raw and aching.
“I knew I should have protested the marriage, but he claimed he was marrying to beget an heir. So, I assumed the rumors were false.”
Serena barely heard.
Grandy shook her shoulder, regaining her attention. “Does this have anything to do with your sudden trip to London?”
“Yes.” Serena felt a new onslaught of tears and fumbled to produce a handkerchief from her sleeve. She twisted it in her hands. “Cyrus has asked me to take a lover.”
Her grandmother quirked one silver brow in disdain. “This is how he intends to get an heir?”
“Yes, and I cannot do it.” She paused, fists bunching. “He’s asking me to commit adultery.”
“Oh, phoo! I could kick your Aunt Constance, rest her soul, for feeding you too much moral rubbish. All those prayer meetings affected your thinking.”
“It is adultery, even if Cyrus condones it.”
“Really, lamb. Don’t be so provincial. Such affairs are quite common among the ton. Look at my good friend Lady Bessborough. It’s quite known she had children by men other than her husband. She has not been ruined at all.”
“But I cannot picture myself engaging in—in the same illicit acts that brought Mama such shame.”
“Your situations are hardly alike. Having one discreet affair for the sake of conception hardly compares to taking as many lovers as suits your whim and flaunting them.”
“But one lover or a hundred, the number should not signify,” Serena argued. “It is immoral.”
“I agree with your husband; it’s also necessary. You can and you must take a lover. It will be good for you to find someone devilishly handsome and let him seduce you.”
“But Grandy, to behave as if I’ve no morals--”
“Let your overstarched morals retire in peace, along with your Aunt Constance. You’re too young to bury yourself with her and that old stuffed shirt you call husband. Here in Town, very few people note the doings of a married lady, as long as you’re discreet. Besides, I think it’s time you followed your heart.”
