Love Redeemed (2 page)

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Authors: Sorcha Mowbray

Tags: #Historical Romance, #The Market Series, #Romance, #Victorian, #Historical, #Literature & Fiction

BOOK: Love Redeemed
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She drew a calming breath.

“Oh, Aunt Henrietta will be quite cross already. I dare say appearing with a strange man in tow would be the death of me. If you don’t mind, I will leave you here and find my own way back.” She grew certain her fragile facade would crack at any moment. A bittersweet pain fisted in her chest where her heart should have been. Regret for all she would never experience washed through her, coming very close to breaking her right there.

“Very well. I wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble. How will I see you again?” He appeared so hopeful it pained her to lie.

Her body stiff with her determination to escape, she rose and grabbed her packages. “I am sure we will run in to each other again soon. Good-bye, Mr. Whitling,” she called and disappeared into the crowd.

No sooner had she faded into the flow of traffic on the sidewalk than the wetness trickled down her cheeks in little rivulets of pain. Not that she had any great feeling for the handsome man, she assured herself. After all, they’d only just met. But, the realization she did not even have the option made her sad. Her life offered very few choices, and love was not one of them. A suitor, a man like Mr. Whitling, could never be for a woman like her.

Serena walked the five blocks to The Market and climbed the front stairs. The unassuming portico sustained their deception as much as her proper dresses and hats. The veneer of propriety allowed them to survive in a world that frowned on all things immoral, and at The Market all things immoral were bought and sold.

One just needed to name the right price.

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

Brennan departed Madame Le Fleur’s after checking on the delivery of Mrs. Keeling’s order. His warehouses were efficient and always delivered the orders, but customers liked the extra attention he paid them. It also made resolving any issues quick and easy. Mounting his phaeton, he scanned the street hoping to see Serena again. He had been disappointed when she vanished from the teashop. He had spent the last two days lamenting that fact to his best friend, Andrew Johnston. Today he hoped to see the young lady so he could rectify his mistake.

Seeing neither hide nor hair of the enchantress, he settled on the bench and took up the reins. Lurching away from the curb, he encouraged the horses into the stream of traffic when a flash of color caught his eye. He eased the rig forward and passed Serena. Thrilled to have spotted her for a second time so soon, he pulled the phaeton over and tossed the reins to a boy standing nearby.

A few feet away, he knew she spotted him when her chocolate eyes widened in surprise. He strolled toward her and raised his hat in greeting, his stomach tightening with nerves. “Good day, Miss Freemont.” He scanned the nearby crowd, searching for her aunt. All he saw was a woman who looked a bit older than she did. Not the usual chaperone for a lady, but perhaps she, like him, came from a more working-class background.

“Good day, Mr. Whitling. Imagine running in to you twice in one week. This is my Aunt Henrietta.” She gestured to the young woman with her who gave her a queer look.

“How nice to meet you, Aunt Henrietta.” Brennan tipped his hat.

“Hello,” she replied.

“How fortuitous to run in to you, I wanted to invite you to a dinner party I am hosting tomorrow evening. I realize it is rather short notice, but I hoped you, and your aunt, might join us.”

“Oh, I….” Serena peeked at her chaperone as though unsure of her reaction.

“I don’t believe we have any plans that evening.” The other woman smiled, despite seeming a trifle incensed.

“Yes, dinner would be very nice.” A timid grin flashed across Serena’s coral lips, disappearing as soon as it appeared.

The tension gripping his chest relaxed with her agreement. “Excellent, may I pick you up?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to take you away from any guests. We can manage to find you on our own if you will provide your direction,” Serena assured him.

“It would be no bother.” He wanted to have a way to contact her.

“Oh, we live quite far from here, and in truth we will be busy all day before we can arrive.” With such urgency in her voice, Brennan decided not to push any harder. She’d agreed to dinner.

“Very well. Here is my address. It will be just a few friends, nothing too formal.” He handed her his calling card with his address scribbled on the back. How fortunate he had come prepared. “Please come at eight o’clock.”

Serena tucked the card into her reticule. After a regal nod, she and her Aunt were on their way.

Brennan watched them walk away and reveled in the excitement of finding her again. All that was left was to arrange for his friends to join them for dinner. Who of his acquaintances were married?

 

***

 

Serena dragged Miranda away from Brennan with a firm yank to the arm before she said something inappropriate.

“What were you about, Serena? You’re Aunt Henrietta? Do I really look so old?” Miranda’s vanity had taken a direct blow, which left her annoyed and far too curious.

“No, I apologize for such an inference. He was just a man I bumped into last week. Nothing more. I certainly won’t be going.” Serena lengthened her stride to an unladylike gait. Her skirts spread around her as she barreled down the sidewalk. She ignored the warmth pooling low in her belly and the pounding of her heart.

“Why ever not? He seemed perfectly nice, and very handsome to boot.” Miranda tugged her arm in an attempt to slow their pace.

“He has no idea what I am. He sees only a lady, not a whore.” Serena shortened her step and drew a deep breath.

“I see, hence the Aunt Henrietta.” Miranda paused. “Still, it might be a nice treat to meet with a man and not have it be business related. I think you should go, if not for yourself, then for all of us who will never have such an opportunity.”

“Really? D’you think I should?” Serena stopped, surprised by her friend’s emphatic response.

“I do. Please go and come back to tell us what it is like to not be a whore. I think I have forgotten.” A bittersweet smile slipped across Miranda’s face as she linked her arm in Serena’s and dragged her up the steps of The Market.

“Maybe I will.” Serena sighed as they entered the house. As far as being a whore went, they had a very good life. They could have ended up gin-soaked trollops who fucked men against an alley wall for enough change to fill their mugs.

 

***

 

Brennan stared at Andrew. Every muscle in his body strung tight with an intensity he had never experienced before. The lunch he’d devoured a short bit ago curdled in his belly as he dangled on tenterhooks waiting for his friend’s response.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to meet the lady who has you all tied up in knots.” Andrew smirked and clapped Brennan on the shoulder.

“Excellent. I shall have my sister, and her husband, attend as well.” Happiness and excitement coiled within. He lifted his post-meal brandy, took a small sip from the snifter, and paused. “You know, her aunt is hardly older than she is. Perhaps you two will become better acquainted.”

Andrew sputtered, his own sip of brandy spattering his vest. “Are you attempting to saddle me with her chaperone? I will remind you, I am but two years older than you are. Barely even counts.”

Brennan laughed at his sensitive friend’s reaction. “I only mention it as she was also attractive. I would never wish an old maid on you.”

A short while later Brennan rose and stretched. “Excellent repast, but I must stop by and see my sister you know.”

“Good luck with the Dragon.” Andrew stretched his legs out and settled deeper into his chair.

Brennan headed over to his sister’s home where he explained needing her attendance for dinner the following evening. She agreed as soon as she learned the party included a female of interest to him. The matchmaker in her overrode her inner dragon much to his relief.

 

***

 

Serena sat in the coach chewing her lower lip in nervous distraction. She could not help but worry arriving without a chaperone would be suspicious. In the end, she resigned herself to indulging her curiosity. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach when the coach drew to a stop outside of Brennan’s townhouse. It had a sedate facade consisting of whitewashed brick, a blue door, and matching shutters. Taking a deep breath to calm her agitation before she alighted from the carriage bought her only a moment’s respite. She found herself standing before the door far too soon.

Reaching out with a hand racked by tremors, she slapped the knocker against its brass plate. Her fingers had scarcely released the handle when a tall immaculate man opened the door.

“Good evening. I am here to see Mr. Whitling.” Serena presented her card, willing her hand to cease shaking.

Taking her card, the butler all but hustled her into the foyer before he glanced at it. “He is expecting you. May I take your wrap and reticule?”

Serena slipped her shawl off her shoulders and let the overeager butler whisk it away. She held on to her small bag in case a quick escape became necessary. Turning from the butler, she bumped into Brennan.

“Excuse me. I thought I heard you come in.” His baritone flowed over her like warm caramel.

“Oh, I did not hear you walk up.” Her face simmered with an inexplicable blush.
I am a woman of experience, not some simpering debutant
.

“I am very glad you came.”

His proximity wreaked havoc with her ability to think, but the smile he bestowed made it worth the trip. “I am as well.” Butterflies created a sudden knot that grew heavy like a bucket of coal. She would never be able to choke dinner down if the gastric acrobatics did not improve.

He glanced past her with a quizzical look. “Is your aunt not with you?”

“She uh….”
Damn and blast, I was a fool to come without a chaperone
. “She had a megrim and sent me on alone.”

“Please, wish her a speedy recovery for me and thank her for sending you on.” He turned and presented her his arm. “My other guests have already arrived. Shall we go meet them?”

She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and prayed he did not notice the tremors continuing to plague her. He led her into a cozy sitting room that contained a small group. A woman sat on the settee next to a handsome man who appeared absorbed in what she said. Another gentleman stared into the flames of the fireplace, brooding alone. He stood taller than Serena, but not by more than a couple of inches.

“Miss Freemont, I would like you to meet my sister and her husband, Sir Harry Thornton and Lady Caroline Thornton. Harry, Caro, this is Miss Serena Freemont.”

His sister was a Lady! Serena bit back her gasp and curtsied. The evening, without a doubt, would be a disaster of epic proportions.

Brennan continued the introductions. “And this disreputable specimen is my best friend, Mr. Andrew Johnston.”

The dark, dashing man kissed her hand, let his lips linger a tad too long, and straightened up. A lock of chestnut hair flopped into his deep blue eyes. “It is very nice to meet you, Miss Freemont.” As expected, he edged past her in height, yet still came up shorter than Brennan.

“It is lovely to meet you all.”

They sat and chatted for a bit before the butler announced dinner. Caroline, as she had been instructed to call Lady Thornton, was escorted into the dining room by her husband, leaving Serena with both Brennan and Andrew to accompany her. They settled at the table and dinner was served.

“I am sorry to hear your Aunt Henrietta is not feeling well this evening. How very kind of her to allow you to attend without her.” Caroline picked up her glass to sip her wine and eyed her suspiciously.

Serena choked on a bite of food as she swallowed. “She felt so poorly, and Brennan had mentioned there would be other females. Although, she did instruct me to leave should that turn out to be false.” She fluttered her lashes at Brennan in the hopes her flirtation would act as a distraction.

“I do believe I have been insulted.” He barked a laugh that startled everyone.

Dinner carried on with Caroline and Andrew regaling them with childhood stories of the scrapes Brennan seemed to always find himself in. A footman presented a note to Brennan’s sister with her dessert. She gave the note a quick perusal and darted a worried glance at her husband. “Oh dear, it seems my youngest is ill. Harry, I am afraid we must go.”

“What a shame the lemon tart shall go to waste.” Brennan rose to escort his sister out.

“I should go as well.” Serena made to leave.

“I feel terrible about this.” Caroline paused. “At least stay and have your dessert before leaving. No one shall know.” She looked fondly at Brennan. “My brother will be a perfect gentleman.”

“Indeed, I will,” Brennan vowed as Andrew stood.

“I am lodged not far from you, Sir Thornton, could you drop me on your way?” Andrew winked at Brennan in a not quite sly aside.

“Of course,” Harry agreed as they departed in a rush.

The group bustled out of the dining room. Upon Brennan’s return, she grew unsure what to say, or more accurately, what a proper young lady would say in such circumstances.

“Well, we seem to be left on our own to enjoy our desserts.” Brennan sat down and took a bite of lemon tart.

Serena followed suit and tried to focus on her plate. She managed a few bites before the knots returned. Somehow, Brennan’s friends and family had put her at ease, but with their departure and that of all the servants, she’d lost her buffer. Alone with him, her body seemed to have one thing in mind. The juncture of her thighs heated, her core moistening in anticipation of taking him within.

His fork clinked against the china as he set the heavy silver utensil down. “Would you like to join me in the study? I could use a brandy.”

“So could I.”

Brennan’s jaw unhinged halfway as he stared at her. Finally finding his voice, he sputtered, “You drink brandy?”

“My father lets me sip it?” Serena’s skin stretched with a weak smile. She had misspoken with no way to cover it.

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