Serena

by Claudy Conn

  He saw the fingerpost denoting Country Lane Three and turned off to the right as he had been directed to do by the landlord of his posting inn.

  Ahead, he saw a lovely Georgian-styled manor house reposing elegantly at the top of the hill. The surrounding lawns were maintained in parkland style, and although not as extensive as some, they were certainly exceptionally well maintained and most charmingly laid out.

  There was something welcoming about the property, and he wondered if Serena had had anything to do with its smartly arranged evergreens and flowerbeds. He knew the squire had never married, and he could see the grounds most definitely had ‘a woman’s touch’ throughout.

  He didn’t know what to make of Miss Moorely. She seemed every bit a lady. She sounded from Freddy’s account to be a very decent sort with a good head on her shoulders. Could it be that she actually was in love with Freddy? He frowned over the thought. Freddy was a handsome lad, and although he had never witnessed his nephew flirting with the ladies, his lordship imagined that he might be charming enough when he chose. She was only a few years older and might have fallen for Freddy. He was Frederick of Radburn, with a respectable fortune, and that might have gotten her attention. After that … who knew?

  No. He cut such thoughts off. It was almost unthinkable that Freddy should wed at nineteen. What the lad wanted now would not be what he wanted in ten years … even in five years.

  But if that were the case, if Freddy had led her on because of his infatuation, well, that would change everything, and his lordship knew his principles about such matters would not allow him to stand in their way—whatever the consequences.

  He sighed and hoped that wasn’t the case, but if it wasn’t, what the devil did she want with the boy, for in many ways, Freddy was still far too youthfully exuberant for a young woman.

  From what he had seen for himself, this particular woman needed a man, not a boy, and that was another thing. Why wasn’t this particular woman already spoken for? Odd that, for she had beauty, composure, and a respectable background.

  Damn, but it was a puzzle.

  None of this made any sense to his lordship. He had to ask himself, was she after a title? Did she want entrée into the haute ton? Did she think Freddy was her way to it? One never knew what moved a woman, especially one who was nearing spinsterhood.

  Of one thing, he was certain. She had Freddy caught tightly within her clutches. All the boy could do was talk of Serena. Her name had crept into the conversation all through dinner and then again this morning.

  The lad held her on a pedestal, and his lordship could see there would be no wresting Freddy away from her—at least not easily. Things were far more desperate than his sister realized.

  He had of course devised a solution to the problem. He had an idea, but it didn’t sit well with him, and he did not look forward to that idea’s implementation. Perhaps he could find another way to wrench her hold from Freddy?

  Suddenly, a musical giggle assailed his ears and interrupted his thoughts. He looked to the left and saw Serena on her chestnut mare, unaware of him and careening over a stone wall to land neatly on the other side. She leaned forward and encouraged her horse to pick up its pace through the grassy field.

  Damnation! Now what should he do?

  Well, since she was obviously not up at the house to receive a morning call, he had no choice but to give chase. He would catch up to her and then engage her in a light conversation. Perhaps, just perhaps, in this way he could take her measure, for she would not be on guard and might give herself away without even realizing it.

  A moment later he put his horse into an easy lope and took the big roan gelding over the same stone wall. His landing, however, caused him to curse softly and hope the dip his roan had taken would not bring him up lame.

  Dragon snorted and lunged into a canter, and as his lordship’s position in his saddle had not been compromised by the difficult landing, he could feel that his horse’s gait was unaffected. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was fond of his gelding and pleased that the clumsy landing they had endured had not injured his horse.

  He looked up towards the rise of the grassy field and saw he would have to move faster if he was going to catch up with Miss Serena Moorely.

  Luckily for him, Serena slowed and circled her horse at the top of the hill, and he heard her tell her mare, “There now, Brandy, easy … girl.”

  As he approached he heard her laughing as she affectionately patted her horse’s neck. “Silly mare, forever wanting to race,” she breathlessly told her mare. “Have you had enough? I hope so, for I don’t want to bring you back all sweated up and have old Grimsly squeak at me.”

  She turned and shaded her eyes as he approached.

  His lordship was for a moment unable to speak.

  It was no wonder Freddy was besotted with her. The woman was a diamond of the first water. Her face, her figure, those dark, penetrating eyes—everything about her could bring a man to heel!

  She wore no hat, and the sun’s rays lit in her hair, making it look as though gold dust was sprinkled throughout its curls and waves. Her face was exquisite—her cheekbones high, her lips full, rosy, and pert … so damn pert and kissable.

  She smiled and called, “Hallo, Lord Pendleton. What a glorious morning for riding.”

  He was now up alongside of her as she continued amiably, “I must walk her, as I don’t like to keep her standing after a run.” She sighed as their horses fell into step beside one another and smiled as she said, “Oh, but I love to take advantage of such weather, as before you know it, the fall will be gone and winter will close in on us.” She eyed him questioningly and added, “I was just taking the edge off Brandy here.”

  “Yes, and took your fence perfectly. I on the other hand took it like a clumsy bull and landed on my horse’s neck. He dipped and recovered, leaving me chagrined but thankful he took no injury.”

  “Oh, I know the feeling. It happens to all of us, and it probably wasn’t your fault. The field on this side of the wall is very uneven. I only take that wall at a familiar, tried and true spot.” She gave him a rueful eye and then a soft chuckle, and his lordship, much against his will, felt thoroughly enchanted.

  “Oh, please, I do beg you will excuse my clothing, but I did not expect to find anyone up and about and here at Moorely … so early.”

  He stared at her in her weathered buckskin riding jacket, which was clipped tightly at her tiny waist, before his gaze traveled further up, to her full breasts, and back down over her lovely legs, which were sensually displayed in the tight britches she wore.

  “I think you, though unconventional, look … exceptional,” he told her on a low note. He cautioned himself not to admire her. She was an oddity who flouted convention, and it was this as well as her beauty that had entrapped his nephew. He would have to tread carefully to break the bond the two must have formed. “Besides,” he said with a slight shrug, “I know I am trespassing, but I was on my way up to your house to pay you a morning call when I saw you riding and thought you might not object if I joined you.”

  Serena eyed him, and he could see the calculating look in her dark eyes. She was no fool. She knew he had an ulterior motive. “Ah,” she said softly. “You wish to speak of Freddy?”

  “Do I?”

  “No? Am I wrong? Very well then, shall I give you a riding tour of some of our beautiful New Forest?” She pointed to the left. “Look there … the wild ponies. They graze freely and are a delight to watch in their natural state.” She eyed him, probably because he was frowning, and asked, “Don’t you think?”

  “They are small and ragged, but, as you say, free, and I suppose that makes them a grand sight. Yes, I do agree.” He saw a rebuke spring to her eyes and laughed. “You don’t like that I called them ragged?”

  “No, I do not. After all, they have no one to groom them, do they? They are wild horses, and they are smart because they know how to fend for themselves.” She sighed. “Forgive me. I love the
New Forest with its wild ponies, its expanse of open lands splattered wildly, uniquely complementing the land.” She gave him a look and added, “And you know, my lord, perhaps the New Forest ponies are small, but they are sturdy and make wondrous hunters in this part of the country. I would trust one of them to take me safely through the bogs before I would one of your flash prime.”

  He acknowledged the hit, and a small smile crept across his face. She had spirit and independence, and he was certainly getting off to a poor start. “I don’t doubt it, and speaking of hunters, I was hoping to visit with Sir Newton and ask him to allow me to join them on his next go with his hounds. Perhaps you could put in a good word for me?”

  She eyed him incredulously. “I thought you were here at his invitation to do just that?”

  “Indeed, I am, but it was the veriest and most general invitation made some time ago. As it happens, I am very interested in joining him and the hounds when I know … you will be there.”

  He saw a warning in her eyes. She would not flirt with him. Well, well, just what manner of woman was this? Was she being faithful to his nephew? Or did she suspect he was here to get his nephew away from her?

  “Oh, you may want to go for one of his training exercises, when he takes them out tomorrow, for I do not mean to join him until next week,” she answered coldly.

  “Freddy has talked at length about Sir Newton’s hounds. He has written his mother often about the terrain they travel, and I am curious, but I was hoping to enjoy your company during the expedition.”

  “Perhaps Freddy will go with you. Sir Newton thinks very highly of his skills with the hounds.”

  “Perhaps he might, for I cannot imagine that Freddy will be still here next week, as it is time for him to return to school.” He saw it at once, the look that came over her face. She appeared furious.

  “Yes, it is precisely what I have been telling Freddy, but I think you will find that Freddy has a mind and a will all his own.”

  She was magnificent. It was only a wonder that Freddy had not already taken the chit to the altar. It was obvious that she meant to have Freddy’s title and fortune. Well, well, perhaps he might just have to institute his plan after all. He had hoped otherwise, but apparently, the chit had just challenged him.

  “Indeed,” he answered. “He does seem to, doesn’t he? You know, however, that a boy as young as Freddy can be easily swayed.”

  * * *

  “Swayed? To what end, my lord?” Serena eyed him, her ire up, his meaning not quite lost on her. She took immediate insult.

  He said after a long pause, “To whatever strikes his fancy, and one’s fancy can change, you know, from moment to moment, from day to day when a man is but nineteen.”

  “Indeed,” returned the lady. Ooh, but he was an arrogant blade. How dare he assume that she was out to seduce Freddy into marriage! She might not be up to snuff, but she was certainly no fool. He was warning her off Freddy, which was really too bad of him for many reasons. For one, he didn’t even know her, didn’t know the circumstances. He should have looked into the matter before hinting at such accusations.

  Well, of all the outrageous nerve! She decided to have a little fun at his expense. “As you say, Freddy is only nineteen, and yet he has a strength of character that is quite remarkable. He is decent and good, and I have seen him resolute in many things, as you must know, Freddy and I have become quite good friends … really, quite good friends.”

  His eyes lazily gazed at her before he said, “So then, as his friend, you do not think he should return to school?”

  She wasn’t about to lie outright, but neither did she have to tell him anything she did not wish to tell him, besides, did she not already mention that Freddy should return to school? Did he not believe her? Well, let him think whatever he chose. She said, arching a look at him, “I think Freddy is capable of looking at the facts and making a decision for himself.”

  His broad shoulders seemed to stiffen. His jaw-line certainly did. His eyes became blue ice, and she wished she had not allowed her temper to get the better of her. What must he think? Did she care what he thought? Why, absurdly, she did care. Frowning, she was about to recant when he opened his mouth and said, “Evidently, you are very sure of yourself, Miss Moorely.”

  She actually felt a burning sensation rush through her mind, down her arm, and into her hand, which then itched to slap his face. She managed to simply put up her chin and say, “Sure of myself? How so, my lord?”

  “Don’t play your innocent games with me, Miss Moorely. They may work with Freddy, but I am not such a moonling! I am long past the age where a pretty face can lure me from the truth.”

  Serena’s mouth dropped, and for a moment she was stunned. This was plain speaking, wasn’t it? She writhed with fury, although a part of her acknowledged it was her fault for egging him on. As she scrambled for words, she could not help but notice a flicker of doubt both in his eyes and on his face.

  She should just confess that she had been trying to get Freddy to return to school for weeks. She should not allow his lordship to think so poorly of her, but some wayward flicker of temper still had control of her, and she said, her chin well up, “I think, my lord, that I have tarried here with you too long. I must now return to my uncle.” So saying, she took her horse’s reins and, still seething, started to turn away from him.

  He reached out and caught her kid-gloved wrist. “Stay … just another moment, if only to give me the chance to beg your forgiveness. My concern for my nephew’s future compromised my good sense. Please, Miss Moorely, do forgive my rudeness.”

  She looked at him through narrowed eyes. Was he being sincere? Or was this just part of his plan? What did it matter? She wanted him to take Freddy off. She wanted to be done with the entire ordeal and have this … this man out of her life. Why the thought that he would soon return home made her want to cry, she could not say. He was too handsome, too tall, too charming, too arrogant … too …

  She did not believe his apology, but it didn’t matter. He had behaved badly, and then so had she. Her answer was quiet as she avoided his eye. “Yes, of course. Now if you will unhand and excuse me.”

  She pulled her wrist from his hold, gave him a cold look, and set her horse off at a fast-paced trot. She didn’t look back, but she wanted to. She didn’t cry, but she wanted to do that as well.

  ~ Seven ~

  SERENA MOORELY HAD been respected and coddled by everyone she knew all her life. She had never thought of herself as spoiled and usually spent her ‘pin money’ on her uncle’s tenants, visiting them often, making a mental note of what they might need in the way of personal items and then purchasing it for them.

  She enjoyed giving. She enjoyed helping, and she enjoyed the affection she was given in return. She had never before been treated as though she were nothing more than a tart out to entrap a young man the Lord of Pendleton thought far above her station.

  If she had not been horseback, she would have stomped her foot at him, paced and ranted at him at great length, and finished by telling him that she had refused Freddy’s offers.

  “How dare he think I would take advantage of Freddy … or anyone? How dare he?” she asked her mare. Somehow it hurt her a great deal, so much that she couldn’t for the moment see past his words. She had been attracted to his lordship from the first moment she had seen him, and this event had been cold water in the face. When her eyes had met his … when he first rode up to her, she had felt her heart begin to pound. Had she hoped he might feel the same way?

  “What does he take me for? And why should he think such a thing of me? I have a lovely situation here at Moorely. I may be nearing spinster age, but it is because I chose not to marry … yet. I want for nothing, but he thinks I am trying to entrap his nephew—his nephew who is little more than a boy.” She took the stone wall on her way home and landed to canter off towards the stables. Breathlessly, she continued to give a piece of her mind about his lordship to her mare, who did not seem
overly interested.

  “He is an arrogant, annoying busy-body. He is ill-mannered and judgmental. He is puffed up in his own consequence, and he deserves a lesson. I should have put him in his place. I should have told him I have been trying to get Freddy home. He made up his mind before he came. That is what he did. He has put me into a mold of his own making. What is wrong with him? He says he can’t be taken in … by a pretty face, eh? Well, as to that, I am sure he has had a surfeit of beautiful women chasing after him.” She sighed. “Brandy … he is … well, when he doesn’t open his mouth to spout off nonsense, he is quite, quite handsome.”

  She went silent and then remembered how quickly he had apologized. “He means to lure me into thinking he doesn’t believe I am trying to bring Freddy up to scratch. He doesn’t know that Freddy has already proposed twice and that I have turned him down. Well, perhaps we should let him stew? What do you think, Brandy?”

  Brandy apparently had been listening, as she nodded her head at that moment, and Serena was most pleased. “Precisely what I mean to do. Let him stew. Let him think what he will. Why should I care?”

  Indeed, why should she care?

  * * *

  The Reverend Eustace Bailey’s height was enough to catch a lady’s eye. His light brown hair, though not combed in the latest London fashion, was thick and wavy and fell in attractive lines across his forehead and around his face. His countenance was chiseled in classic good looks. His eyes were light brown, cool and gave little away.

  What was more to the point was that he was certain the object of his affection, Serena, was sure to find him attractive. He was sure of this from the way she always smiled when they chanced to meet.

  He had a problem, however, and one that was forever hanging about. Not Frederick of Radburn, for the reverend considered the lad nothing but an errant boy. It was Warren Beverly that worried him.