by Lucy Ashford
Oh, no. The Wicked Widows. And they would surely want to know more about her and Raphael Lefevre. Especially after that scene at the ball, involving Lefevre and Jeremy Wolverton... She really was beginning to have a headache now.
* * *
Her friends arrived promptly at two. She welcomed them with a sinking heart, though to her surprise, she was not the first item on their agenda.
‘I have some very important news!’ announced Mary once they were all seated in Serena’s first-floor drawing room. And her news stunned them all. ‘Lord Gardner has finally agreed to extend our lease. Moreover, he told me, ladies, that he was persuaded to do so by none other than Monsieur Lefevre! Perhaps we all rather misjudged the Marquis.’ She turned to Serena. ‘Maybe you could invite him to visit our school soon, so we can express our appreciation? I’m afraid I was slightly scathing the other night about his donation of money—but there is no doubt that the securing of the lease is hugely important to us. So unexpected, yet so generous of him!’
It was now four days since Serena had gone with the Marquis to the Duke of Hamilton’s ball. Indeed, if it weren’t for those flowers or the maddening invitation that had arrived this morning, she might have guessed he’d grown bored with her. And yet he’d secured the lease—why? She didn’t understand. Because he was generous? Surely not—he was too wily for simple generosity. Was he ingratiating himself with her friends in order to put a yet firmer grip on her?
She sat there, dazed.
* * *
The rest of the meeting was spent in discussing the school’s finances and the problems arising from the fact that extra pupils kept arriving every day. ‘You’ll no doubt remember the French children who joined us the other week,’ Mary reminded them. ‘They’re homesick, of course, as exiles are bound to be, but I hope they’re learning to see our school as a refuge.’
Serena thought again of Lefevre, who was also an exile in his way, but an exile with wealth and the power that came with it. How could he live such a careless and spendthrift life, when so many suffered? Her consternation lingered to the end of the meeting and for once she wasn’t best pleased when Joanna stayed on after the others had gone.
‘Quite brilliant of you,’ Joanna began, ‘to persuade that man to save our school’s lease! I really am beginning to think that our Marquis might be rather infatuated with you, darling.’
Serena laughed rather shakily. ‘I said nothing to him about the lease. And Monsieur Lefevre, infatuated with me? No. No, that is absurd—’
‘Is it really?’ Joanna drew closer. ‘But Lefevre went to great lengths, I’ve heard. The news is that on Saturday night he gambled well into the early hours with Lord Gardner for that lease.’
‘Impossible!’ Serena was shaken anew. ‘Why on earth should he do such a thing?’
‘Because Lord Gardner point blank refused to sell it to him, but Gardner couldn’t resist Lefevre’s challenge of a wager. Why the Marquis did it, I cannot imagine—but I can guess. Can’t you?’
Serena was shaking her head in bewilderment. ‘Lefevre and I are enemies, Joanna. Despite his help with the lease, it’s a battle to the end, there’s no doubt about it.’
‘Are you sure? Because at the Duke’s ball, I saw the way he was gazing at you when you weren’t aware of it. And he looked as though he’d like to do all the things to you that you dream a man like him might do.’ Joanna sighed a little. ‘Everyone agrees he’s probably the most gorgeous man in London, so keep your wits about you, my girl! Lefevre is decidedly alluring—and, I fear, quite dangerous.’
‘He presents no danger to me.’ Serena spoke firmly. ‘As I said, there are private reasons why I have to endure his company now and then. But I haven’t seen him for days.’
Joanna put her hand on Serena’s. ‘You’re seeing him soon, though, aren’t you? I saw that invitation lying on your mantelpiece.’ Joanna’s eyes gleamed with mischief. ‘So my advice is to tantalise him for a change! Be coy. Be alluring. And wear the kind of attire that will have him wild for you!’
Chapter Eleven
On Wednesday Raphael arrived in Curzon Street at two, but Grinling asked him to wait in the hall.
‘My lady will be a little while yet, my lord,’ he announced—with a certain grim satisfaction, Raphael felt. He resigned himself. It was a lady’s privilege, after all, to be late. She must, he assumed, be putting a fair amount of effort into preparing herself. He passed the time by looking at a rather astonishing console table ornamented with red and turquoise lacquer and was almost taken by surprise when he heard her light footsteps on the staircase behind him. He turned swiftly and blinked. Then he thought, Oh, yes, Very clever of you.
She was wearing a dress of some plain grey fabric, long-sleeved and buttoned up to the throat. A small straw bonnet without ribbons hid most of her lively blonde curls, rather to Raphael’s regret. She looked like a governess.
She came swiftly towards him with that defiant look in her eyes. ‘Your invitation told me to look my best. I therefore thought I should make it quite clear to you, my lord, that I will dress exactly as I please and not according to your instructions...’
Her voice tailed away as Raphael waited for her to take in his own attire. He was wearing a loose-fitting brown coat, buff leather breeches and riding boots; all clean, of course, all decidedly expensive, but hardly haute couture. He could see she was desperately searching for words.
‘Have you ridden here?’ she asked him sharply at last.
He grinned. ‘No. My carriage is outside. But I was at Tattersall’s earlier, looking over a couple of new mares for my stables. And I didn’t have time to change.’
Her rather lovely face was a picture. Her blue-green eyes flashed liked icy diamonds—oh, he enjoyed that. She said at last, ‘But you ordered me to look my best!’
‘So I did. And I guessed you would take exception to that and act accordingly. Therefore I decided there was no need for me to go to the trouble of more formal attire.’
She remained speechless for a moment before saying, rather faintly, ‘Where are we going?’
‘To the Royal Academy.’ He was already pointing to the door. ‘Shall we be on our way? There’s a special exhibition opening today.’
‘Which means half of the ton will be there!’ She pointedly ignored his outstretched arm. ‘This is outrageous of you, not to warn me in advance! Although I am not going to change my gown now—not when you, too, are so unsuitably attired. In fact, my lord, I don’t think I’ll go with you at all.’
Raphael could see that Grinling still hovered in the background, waiting to open the front door for them. He stepped closer to Serena and said more quietly, ‘My lady. Must I remind you that our agreement still stands?’
‘Fiddlesticks to our agreement! Anyway, surely you won’t want me at your side when I look like a—like a dowd?’
He made a point of studying her again thoughtfully.
Her grey gown was demure, admittedly, but its bodice gently cupped her small but perfect breasts and her waist looked delectably slender. Certainly the shade of the silk was muted, but if anything that soft dove-grey enhanced the creaminess of her smooth complexion, as did the two pearl ear-drops she wore. Actually, she looked amazing. Several days had passed since he’d seen her. Too many days... Control yourself, you fool.
Just then her maid hurried down the stairs with a garment over her arm, curtsying to Raphael, then turning to Serena. ‘Your pelisse, my lady!’ Swiftly she helped Serena into the slim grey pelisse that matched her gown, then put a furled parasol in her hand. ‘Enjoy yourself,’ the maid murmured, before bobbing another shy curtsy to Raphael and disappearing again.
This time, when Raphael held out his arm, Serena moved to join him, though her reluctance was plain to see. ‘You look perfect, my lady,’ he murmured. ‘Absolutely perfect.’ And he realised that he meant it. The scent of her—lilies of the val
ley, he guessed, delicate yet sensuous—tantalised his nostrils. Oh, how he could fantasise over breaking down her cool façade and coaxing fire into her veins!
She answered tightly, ‘You’re lying, of course. But I’m afraid—’ and she glanced down at his riding breeches ‘—that your reputation as a man of fashion will be ruined.’
He grinned. ‘On the contrary, I shall probably set a new fashion. From now on, looking as though one has just come from the stables will become obligatory.’
He heard her mutter, ‘Ridiculous, arrogant man.’
He bowed and pointed to the front door, which Grinling held open. ‘My carriage awaits, Lady Serena.’
This was getting a little dangerous, he realised as he escorted her outside to his waiting carriage. He was beginning to succumb to the effect of her combination of beauty and hauteur. Of course, pretty faces were commonplace among London’s elite; but with Lady Serena, there was something more. The way her eyes blazed when she was angry. The tilt of her firm little chin that challenged him even now—You dare to try to get the better of me, Raphael Lefevre? Yes—it was the defiance she offered that set fire to his blood and his loins.
‘Do try to look as if you like me,’ he reminded her casually as they left the house. ‘No doubt your servants and your neighbours will be watching avidly to see how our love match is progressing.’
She turned to him with a look of mild surprise. ‘Is it? Progressing, I mean? But I haven’t seen you for days, though I imagine you’ve been busy. Occupied with—how can I put it?—the usual activities of a gentleman with too little to do with his time.’
Raphael’s mind flashed back to the hours he’d been spending daily with Dominic, examining Home Office lists of the known French refugees in the capital and visiting the cheap lodging houses where the exiles lived.
Poor Dominic always wore an expression of weariness on his good-natured face by the end of each outing. ‘Raphael, you’ve got to prepare yourself. She might not have made it here. She might not even be...’
‘Alive?’ Raphael had supplied the missing word. ‘She has to be alive, I tell you.’
A gentleman with too little to do with his time. With a slight bow he moved to help Serena climb into his open barouche, while Jacques sat impassively waiting on the driver’s seat.
‘Very smart,’ she said, indicating the barouche.
‘It’s a lovely day, so I thought to myself, why not enjoy the fresh air?’
‘Ah. So it’s nothing to do with ensuring that everyone sees us together?’
He laughed. ‘All part of our bargain, Lady Serena.’
She made no reply; but as soon as they were settled side by side, she patted down her skirts and turned to him. ‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘Did you buy those horses you examined at Tattersall’s?’
‘I did indeed. They were a bargain.’
‘Ah. You’re fond of bargains, aren’t you?’ She regarded him steadily. ‘Monsieur Lefevre. Was it part of our bargain that you’d involve our charity school in your scheming?’
He called out to Jacques to proceed, then turned to her and raised his eyebrows a little. ‘I beg your pardon?’
With rather a crisp gesture, she put up her silk parasol against the sun. ‘I’m talking,’ she said, ‘about your sudden impulse to gamble with Lord Gardner for the lease of the charity school.’
He shrugged. ‘What’s your objection? The school’s been saved, hasn’t it?’
‘That is not the point—’
‘Oh, you object to me gambling? Actually, it’s a quite enjoyable way to pass the time. You should try it one day. Plenty of ladies of your rank do so.’
He saw her struggling to suppress her annoyance and grinned to himself. Presumably, Lady Serena did not enjoy being associated with such ladies. She said at last, ‘You must have played Lord Gardner for high stakes.’
‘Indeed, I did.’
She turned on him. ‘But what if you’d lost?’
‘There was always that chance, but I’m really quite skilful. I’ll teach you my methods some day, shall I? Faro is a popular game with the fairer sex.’
Her eyes were glinting dangerously now. ‘Monsieur, I think it would take me a few years to match your experience of—how shall I put it?—life’s lower pleasures.’
He smiled. ‘I take it we’re still talking about the card tables?’
This time she really looked as if she’d like to hit him and he couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Sorry. Sorry, that was really going too far. But I don’t happen to like Lord Gardner very much. And I thought your school needed that lease rather badly.’
She was starting to look upset. ‘But you have already donated to our school. And we would have sorted the business of the lease ourselves, eventually—’
‘Would you?’ he broke in. ‘I doubt it. Gardner dislikes ladies he calls “do-gooders”. Gardner says,’ he added helpfully, ‘that they remind him too much of his wife.’
‘We’re not “do-gooders”! And I still think you are doing all this to deliberately make me look foolish in front of my friends!’ Her pretty cheeks were flushed with indignation.
‘We’re in an open carriage,’ he reminded her. They were leaving Curzon Street now and about to turn right into Clarges Street, where her illustrious brother lived. He pointed to the carriages thronging the road and the many pedestrians. ‘You’ll observe,’ he went on, ‘that there are people everywhere and at this moment quite a few of them are looking in our direction. You can tear me to pieces by all means. But try smiling at me while you’re doing so, will you?’
She obliged, but swiftly added sweetly, ‘Is it all right if I slap you on the face at the same time, monsieur?’
He laughed aloud. ‘Most couples save those kinds of antics for the bedroom, Lady Serena. Though I must say I didn’t guess your tastes lay in that direction. Do they?’
‘You are impossible—’
He reached across to touch her cheek, very lightly. How smooth her skin was and how tempting, even when she was furious with him. ‘It’s a beautiful day,’ he said softly. ‘The sun is shining, so I suggest you sit back and relish the moment.’
She positively seethed. Raphael laughed to himself. He knew he was being wicked, but he was rather enjoying this. She made such a change from the usual sycophants who gathered round him, hanging on his every word.
If she could have turned her back on him, doubtless she’d have done so, but instead she had to content herself with wielding her parasol as a partial barrier between them while gazing out of his barouche in the pretence of taking in the passing street scene. Raphael decided to thaw the atmosphere, just a little. He began, ‘Look. I apologise if you’re angry because I gambled for your lease—’
She spun round to face him before he could say any more. ‘Yes. Yes, I am angry! There was no need to indulge in what I suspect is a pitiful attempt to make my friends admire you.’
‘It was you who asked for my help with the school in the first place,’ he pointed out reasonably. ‘You said it would make our relationship look more convincing. Anyway, far from trying to persuade people to admire me, I don’t care in the slightest what anybody thinks of me.’
She faced him full on. ‘Tell me. Did your fellow aristocrats in France boast a similar arrogance? If so, I’m forced to the conclusion that those men who overthrew your royal family were quite justified!’
‘The leaders of the Revolution weren’t all heroes, you know.’ His voice was quiet now. ‘Some of them were extremely brutal.’
‘Perhaps they had to be, after suffering centuries of poverty and oppression!’
At that moment they were turning into Piccadilly and Raphael, instead of answering, pointed to a ragged young woman with a baby in her arms begging at the roadside. The well-dressed passers-by hurried on as if the woman and her child didn’t exist. ‘I believe you have a sayi
ng in this country. Something about the pot calling the kettle black,’ he said quietly.
She coloured. ‘I know. I know. And my friends and I are trying, with our school, to help some children at least to escape a life of such poverty. But we still have a long way to go.’
‘You do indeed.’
After that they travelled on in silence and he could see Serena pretending to absorb the passing glimpses of St James’s Street and the busy shops of Bond Street—the familiar territory of the very rich. He leaned forward when the entrance to the Royal Academy came into view and called to Jacques, ‘Please stop here.’ Then he turned back to Serena. ‘Here we are, then. Ready and eager to participate in a genteel appreciation of art, in the company of some of the most privileged people in all of Europe.’
She was clearly still seething from his criticism and yet, he suspected, understanding it, too. ‘I meant to say from the beginning that I’m rather surprised by your choice, monsieur. An art gallery? Isn’t that rather intellectual for you?’
‘It’s not my usual kind of haunt,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But maybe I wanted to show you that I do have some appreciation of the finer things in life. It’s not all gambling and drinking with me, oh, no.’ His voice altered slightly. ‘Though, of course, to that woman we saw begging, the price of just one of the paintings we shall see inside would be wealth beyond her dreams.’
She was silent, fastening her hands rather tightly around the handle of her parasol.
He stretched out to put one finger briefly to her lips. ‘Enough,’ he said almost gently. ‘You can tell me exactly what you think of me later, when we’re alone. But for now, please smile—because, once again, everyone’s watching us.’
Really, Raphael told himself as he helped her alight from his carriage, it was wrong of him to chide her so. The rich believed themselves to be entitled from birth to their privilege and wealth, his own family included. Lady Serena still looked rather pale as they approached the lofty colonnades of the Academy and he suddenly thought to himself, She does not deserve this. I am a wretch to treat her so.
