The Widow's Scandalous Affair

by Lucy Ashford

  * * *

  ‘Be patient,’ Joanna whispered to her one night at a party when Raphael briefly left her to talk to some of his friends. ‘And be prepared for miracles.’

  ‘Miracles?’ Serena was confused. ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  Joanna squeezed her hand. ‘He likes you, you know. He really does.’

  Serena laughed out loud. ‘Nonsense,’ she replied.

  Nonsense, she kept repeating to herself. Raphael Lefevre was a rake and a rogue, and she could cope. But then—when less than a week of their agreement remained—came the night that he took her to Vauxhall’s Pleasure Gardens.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The first she knew of Raphael’s plan was when George called one afternoon in a state of consternation. ‘Serena,’ he began, ‘I’ve just run into that dratted Frenchman at my club.’

  Oh, no. Serena’s heart sank. George had been up to Yorkshire, so he’d not had the chance lately to reprimand her over her apparent dalliance with Raphael. But now she feared her brother was about to lay down his objections anew.

  ‘You mean Monsieur Lefevre? You didn’t actually argue with him in front of everyone, I hope?’ she queried lightly. She was working on a piece of cross-stitch which was boring her to tears, but at this moment she found it a useful distraction.

  ‘It was neither the time nor the place.’ George sighed. ‘I felt obliged to exchange a brief word of greeting—after all, you’ve made it plain you feel the man has some good points. But then he informed me of his intention to take you to Vauxhall Gardens tonight. Vauxhall! Did you know about this?’

  Serena’s heart leapt. Always she’d longed to go to Vauxhall, to watch the jugglers and the musicians she’d heard so much about and to see the summer evening set alight by fireworks. But Lionel would never take her, pronouncing it tedious beyond words—while George wouldn’t escort her there either, because he thought it unsuitable for a lady of quality.

  Now she said, ‘Is it so very shocking, George, that I go to Vauxhall? Plenty of my friends visit the place frequently.’

  ‘Perhaps they do. But, Serena—with that fellow!’

  ‘He is a marquis,’ she reminded him, ‘and rather liked by most of the ton. So if Raphael does ask me to accompany him to Vauxhall tonight, I think I shall accept.’

  ‘Very well. It’s your decision, after all. But I’ll tell you what, Serena.’ His face suddenly lightened. ‘I shall come too!’

  Serena laughed aloud. ‘Playing gooseberry, George? I think not!’

  ‘I don’t intend to tag along with the two of you! I shall take my own guest!’ He paused a moment, considering it. ‘I know. I shall ask your friend. Lady Joanna.’

  Serena almost laughed aloud. ‘Do you know, I’m beginning to suspect you really rather like her.’

  ‘Complete nonsense,’ he said swiftly, but he also looked slightly embarrassed. ‘It merely seems a good idea for us both to go, if only to be on hand to keep an eye on you!’

  ‘You’ve always done your best to look after me, George, and I’m grateful.’ She pressed his hand. ‘We’ll no doubt meet with you there, but Raphael and I will travel to Vauxhall alone. That is—if he asks me.’

  * * *

  Indeed, Raphael did ask her. A note of invitation was delivered soon after George’s visit and that evening he arrived at her house at eight. ‘My carriage is outside,’ he told her. ‘I hope you’ll forgive the short notice, but I thought a visit to Vauxhall would be a pleasant surprise for you.’

  She was ready and waiting, dressed in a plain cloak with a hood. Martha had protested. ‘Ma’am, surely you want to look your very best for a night out with the Marquis!’

  That had been Serena’s own initial thought—in fact, she’d allowed Martha to dress her in a beautiful green silk gown. But then she’d thought with a sinking heart, ‘Perhaps I’ve been a fool to start thinking that he invited me because he actually likes me. What he wants tonight is to put me on display again, so people see me as his conquest. His triumph.’

  Indeed, nothing had really changed since that afternoon at Richmond. He’d not opened up to her any more about the secrets he surely hid and why should he, when she’d as good as told him his life was a matter of complete indifference to her? All this was a pretence, one that she had to keep up also, so she defiantly concealed her pretty gown with a voluminous dark cloak and as she joined Raphael in the hall she said, primly, ‘Vauxhall is certainly an excellent place for us to be seen together, Monsieur le Marquis. Which is no doubt your intention.’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘it isn’t, actually. I think the cloak is an excellent idea. Less conspicuous.’

  Surprise thudded through her. ‘You mean you don’t want us to be noticed?’

  ‘Not particularly.’ He smiled. ‘Besides, I know you have a taste for secret adventures. Especially by night.’

  She felt the heat rising in her body. Of course. He was thinking of that kiss in Covent Garden. ‘Don’t say it,’ she warned him. ‘Don’t you dare say it!’

  ‘I can’t imagine what you mean,’ he said innocently. ‘I’m only suggesting that if you manage for once to forget your wounded dignity, you might even enjoy yourself. Both Vauxhall and my company.’

  Unable to think of a suitable retort, she allowed Raphael to escort her out to his coach and settled inside, smoothing down her cloak with a rather tight flourish. ‘Goodness, Monsieur Lefevre,’ she said, ‘I’ve never been ordered to enjoy myself before. I always thought pleasure was something that had to arise naturally, from circumstance or from engaging company. I didn’t realise it could be imposed upon one.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ he asked silkily. ‘You maybe have some lessons to learn.’ And as he surveyed her in a cool way that sent all her senses into a beware danger mode, she felt the colour invading her cheeks as she suddenly imagined the physical delights a man like Raphael might bestow... Stop it, Serena.

  The carriage moved off—driven, she’d noted, by Jacques, who’d looked at her with his usual disapproval. ‘I must warn you,’ she said, ‘that we’re likely to come across my brother and Lady Joanna there.’

  ‘Really? Your brother’s idea, I’d guess, to defend you from the almighty peril posed by me.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Serena’s eyes glinted. ‘But of course I told George that I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, Monsieur le Marquis.’

  ‘Of course,’ he echoed politely. But the way he was looking at her did strange things to her that made her feel hot and awkward and furious with herself—and to make matters worse he was now gazing calmly out of the window, which meant that she had an outstanding view of him.

  She was well aware that he never favoured the extravagant style of the fop, all stripes and satin and adornment. Tonight he was dressed like a well-to-do man about town, without ostentation. Yet even so, his superbly tailored grey coat and fawn breeches emphasised not only his natural grace, but also the perfection of his powerful body. His starched white neckcloth looked almost carelessly knotted, but it was a style that served to define the strong slant of his jaw and his cheekbones. And by now he’d removed his hat, so she could see how his rich black hair gave an almost Mediterranean look to his lightly tanned skin and strange silvery-grey eyes.

  At that very moment, he turned to meet her gaze and her heart thudded to a stop.

  ‘Considering ways to kill me, Lady Serena?’ His voice was an amused drawl.

  ‘Oh, monsieur,’ she said with a sigh, ‘it’s hardly worth the bother, since so very soon I’ll be rid of you anyway.’

  He smiled again. ‘So you’re still eagerly counting off the days. But you’ll miss me a little, won’t you? I’m beginning to feel you secretly relish the consternation caused by our appearances in public.’

  ‘Consternation for me at least,’ she retorted, ‘since you have, for the time being at any rate, ruined my reputation as
a woman of taste.’

  ‘Touché.’ His eyes sparkled with humour. ‘But I’ll tell you what. Let’s pretend we’re truly friends, just for tonight, shall we? As long as we can steer clear of your brother, there should be no one watching our every move, so let’s try to just enjoy ourselves. I really would like to see you happy.’

  And it was as if she’d fallen headlong downstairs and knocked all the air out of her lungs. This hardened roué, who’d trapped her into a brief and scandalous liaison, was speaking as if he truly cared about her. She fought for control and succeeded. ‘My enjoyment of our trip would mark a significant victory for you, I suspect.’

  ‘You underestimate yourself,’ he said quietly. ‘Always.’

  She was shaken yet again. But giving a slight shrug, she replied, ‘Well, I assure you, I shall not be happy until I have seen all that Vauxhall has to offer. The dancers and acrobats, the musicians and the fireworks. Everything!’

  ‘And so you shall,’ Raphael promised.

  * * *

  For the next two hours as dusk softly fell, Serena felt herself to be in a wonderland of lantern-lit woodland walks and glades. The gardens were thronged with people, but as Raphael had promised, no one took the slightest notice of them: not when they ate their supper in one of the booths, not when Raphael paused at a row of stalls to buy her ribbons, not even at the hoop-la stall where he won a gingerbread cake which she ate with delight, licking the sticky crumbs from her fingers afterwards. So far there had been no sign of her brother. Nothing occurred to spoil her enjoyment.

  Once more she thought dangerous thoughts. If only I could be someone else. If only he could be, too. Then they could be like the many carefree couples who strolled around delighting in the entertainments and the music that drifted through the trees before stealing away into dusky copses for secret kisses...

  If only. Serena had to squeeze her eyes shut against the sudden, purely physical longing that tore through her—the longing for this to be real and not just a pretence. Almost in a daze, she allowed Raphael to lead her uphill along one of the lamplit paths. ‘We should get a fine view of the fireworks from this point,’ he told her. ‘Though, of course, we could have stayed with the crowds.’ He glanced down at her. ‘Are we too far away here, do you think?’

  ‘No,’ she answered quickly, ‘no. It’s absolutely perfect.’ And indeed it was. She was bewitched by the way the fireworks bloomed like flowers in the black night sky, hurling out gold and silver showers of petals. Then suddenly, everything was more than perfect, because she found that his arm was around her.

  She should have pulled away, of course. She knew that. But instead she leaned into him, not only because the spectacle of the night sky alight with sparks of fire made her feel giddy, but because she longed to be closer. And she felt his hold on her tighten.

  ‘Now, don’t tell me,’ he said in that gently mocking way of his, ‘that you’re joining the ranks of my female admirers, even though you denied it so vehemently at Richmond?’

  ‘No.’ She laughed. ‘Oh, no.’

  But his words still curled around her, velvety and warm like the night sky, catching at her very heart. Her physical responses were under assault also; his body was so near, so warm! And his mouth, his beautiful lips... She guessed the sound of her heart drumming against her ribs must be even louder than the fireworks and she wanted to say, I’ve fallen for you, Raphael. Can’t you see that? I’m heartsick with wanting you—and I want you to kiss me. Now.

  But, of course, she couldn’t say that. It couldn’t be true, anyway, because she didn’t enjoy kisses—and besides, Lefevre was her enemy. Yet at this exact moment all she wanted was for him to enfold her in those strong arms of his; indeed, her breasts ached for the pressure of his body. And with her very soul, she wanted his mouth to caress her face, her lips and more...

  Stop it, you fool.

  ‘Sensible Serena,’ he said, almost with a regretful sigh.

  He was still playing games with her. The trouble was, though, that he was doubtless used to this kind of charade, but she wasn’t. He was also far too good at making her body as well as her brain react in ways she couldn’t control.

  She moved away from him, instructing herself fiercely that it was time to get the situation—and her stupid heart—restored to order. ‘Yes,’ she said. stubbornly. ‘I am sensible. Maybe because a woman on her own has to be. But I don’t think you quite understand that these few weeks have seemed like an eternity to me, not least because I feel you are hiding so very much!’

  He rubbed his hand against his temple as if suddenly weary. Then he said, ‘Let me tell you about one particular time in my life. Some weeks that seemed like eternity to me—every single day of them.’

  Something in his voice shook her to her core, but she kept her reply light. ‘Really? Maybe you were forced to wait for a new carriage you’d ordered? Or perhaps you’d fallen for some new mistress who was clever enough to elude you for a while?’

  He pointed to a bench half hidden in a nook, where a cascade of white-starred clematis spilled through a weeping willow. ‘Sit,’ he said. ‘Please sit with me a while.’ After hesitating a moment, she sat and he joined her.

  ‘When I was a boy,’ he began, ‘my father the Marquis used to take what he called a personal hand in the education of my brother and myself.’

  She scarcely breathed, because this was the first time he’d said anything at all about his family. ‘I didn’t know,’ she said at last, ‘that you had a brother.’

  He nodded. ‘He was two years older than me. His name was Guy. He was often ill when he was a boy and my father despised him for it.’

  ‘I would hope that your mother loved him?’ She spoke hesitantly. ‘Loved both of you?’

  ‘She died,’ he answered shortly, ‘soon after giving birth to me. I was stronger and fitter than my brother even though I was younger, so I tried to protect him from my father’s rages. Fortunately, my father was often away, living the high life; but every so often he would resolve to take a hand in his sons’ education. Guy and I always knew what was coming, because he would dismiss whoever had the misfortune to be our tutor at the time.

  ‘One August, when I was twelve and Guy fourteen, he drew up a list of physical challenges for the two of us, every day for a month. For example, we had to swim across the local river, where there was a fierce current, or we were made to ride his most headstrong horses. He even brought in some big village boys to test us on our boxing skills. I managed the challenges. I was lucky enough to be strong and quick. My brother suffered though, on every count. He wasn’t a strong swimmer and he was afraid of the high-bred horses we were made to ride. As for the boxing, the village boys beat him time after time.’ He paused, then said almost wonderingly, ‘After that, my father would beat him, too.’

  Serena couldn’t suppress a low cry. ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘Once,’ Raphael pressed on, ‘I tried to stop him. So my father said to me, “Every time you plead for your brother, I will double the tasks I set him.”’

  Again Raphael was silent and Serena waited. ‘For all of that month of August,’ Raphael went on at last, ‘I had to watch my brother endure and fail the physical tests my father set us. I did what I could. I stole money from my father’s study and bribed those village boys to let my brother win at least some of the boxing matches. I asked the grooms to tire out the horses my father had chosen for Guy to ride. But Guy still suffered, though he never cried or complained. And I hated my father. I counted the days until I was sent back to school in England. When he died, I came back to Montpellier for his funeral, but I could not mourn him.’

  She waited before speaking. The nearby sounds of music and laughter seemed to belong to another world, but this man was all too real—this man and his haunting past. She said quietly, ‘How did your father die?’

  ‘He was thrown off his horse when he was out riding with
the hunt one day.’ He looked straight at her. ‘I told you he loved the sport, didn’t I? Apparently he was blind drunk, so it was a fitting end.’

  ‘And then your brother Guy became the Marquis? But...’

  ‘He died, too.’

  ‘I’m sorry. So sorry. Was it some illness?’

  ‘No.’ His voice was still curt. Unemotional. ‘He was murdered two years ago by the Revolutionaries. And I thought, Let these bloodthirsty fiends get on with it. From now on, my country is not fit to live in.’

  He looked directly at her. ‘So now, Serena, you can call me a coward by all means for fleeing my homeland. But in the course of my life I’ve seen enough cruelty and slaughter to conclude that anyone, be he aristocrat or peasant, has the capacity to behave like the lowest beast. You can therefore feel free to set me as low as you wish in your estimation. Who could blame you? Has anyone ever told you you’re too saintly for your own good?’

  She longed to cry out her reply into the dusky night air. But I don’t want to be good! I don’t want to be saintly, Raphael. I want you to take me in your arms and make love to me!

  Just as she wanted to make love to him, because the magic still pulsed in her veins, together with the sudden blinding clarity of her belief that here was a good and noble man, to whom, if she wasn’t careful, she might lose her carefully guarded heart.

  ‘No, Raphael!’ The words left her lips without her even thinking about them—instinctive, heartfelt. ‘I’m not saintly! But I know you still have secrets you’re keeping from me. You’ve told me about your father, and your poor brother, but there must be more. Please help me to believe in you by telling me the truth. That’s all I ask!’