The Temptation of Lady Serena (5 page)

Serena smiled. “Yes, I’d like that. Usually, I ride with Phoebe and Marcus, but poor little Arthur is cutting teeth and had a bad night.”

Lord Beaumont grinned, his eyes enigmatic, almost as if he had a secret. No other man had looked at her that way.

“What a shame they can’t be here. I hope the baby recovers quickly.”

Robert and Serena set off at a trot through the Park, riding silently for a time. Serena cast a sidelong glance at him. Her heart jumped. He was looking at her as well. Lord Beaumont was held to have wonderful address, but surprisingly, he seemed nervous. She wished he’d say something. Surely he wasn’t waiting for her?

Finally he spoke. “You ride well.”

She realized what high praise that was. Lord Beaumont was a member of the Four-Horse Club. “Thank you. So do you.”

“I’ve never known a lady to have such a large horse. What is he, seventeen hands?”

“Close. Sixteen three. But he has wonderful manners.”

“Have you ridden him long?” he asked, with curiosity.

“Since my father died.” Serena started to feel at ease with him, like she had on the evening of the play. No other gentleman had ever asked about her with the same amount of interest Lord Beaumont did. She patted the horse’s neck. “In a way, we found each other. Papa bought Shamir but never rode him. I was in the stables one day when he was kicking his stall. The grooms were unable to calm him. Yet he settled immediately for me.”

Serena turned to face Lord Beaumont. He looked at her with those beautiful green eyes. Her hands trembled on the reins.

He seemed thoughtful for a few moments. “I’ve heard of horses that choose their masters. You must be very special.”

Her mouth dried. She’d driven with other gentlemen and spent time talking to them, but she’d never had trouble breathing. If she didn’t leave soon, she was going to make a fool of herself. “I must go now. Thank you for your company, my lord.”

He bowed to her gracefully, a difficult maneuver on horseback. “Until we meet again, my lady.”

She broke his gaze. “Yes, until we meet again.”

Serena trotted toward the gate, but her heart yearned to remain. It was all she could do to keep herself from looking back over her shoulder to see if he still watched her.

 

Beaumont stared at Serena as she rode away. Where was his vaunted charm when he needed it? Robert sucked in a breath, picturing Lady Serena’s long auburn hair curling over her creamy shoulders, her head thrown back for him as he nibbled and placed feather-soft kisses on her jaw and neck. His body clenched in desire and need.

By God, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She’d employed no arts to attract him, yet he craved her. He didn’t even know if Lady Serena was happy to see him. Until the end of their ride, when he held her gaze, she’d barely lifted her eyes to his. Was she interested in him at all?

He should have been able to draw her into conversation. Lord, he was losing his touch. It was then that it dawned on him that spending time with Lady Serena wasn’t going to end his torment. Every time he saw her, he wanted her more.

Damn.
He whirled Démon around and thundered back down the track.

Upon returning home, he wreaked havoc on his desk, searching for the invitations to St. Eth and Evesham’s balls.

“Charles!” He strode down the corridor to his secretary’s office. “Have you seen an invitation to St. Eth’s ball?”

“Yes, my lord.” His secretary glanced up warily. “I was about to deny you.”

“No, accept it.” Beaumont ignored Charles’s incredulous expression and paced. “When is it?”

Charles picked up the gilt-edged card. “In three days.”

“I should have a card to Evesham’s ball as well. Do I have any other invitations?”

“Nothing out of the usual, my lord. Lady Remington is having a soiree—”

No others?
Of course not. He hadn’t been to a
ton
event in years, but those are the parties Lady Serena would attend. How could he start receiving the right sort of cards again? “Send my excuses to Lady R. and accept St. Eth.”

His secretary tapped the papers on his desk, before asking hesitantly, “My lord, I have no wish to seem impertinent, but are you feeling quite the thing?”

“Charles,” Beaumont glowered. “If you care at all for me—or for your position—you will not again mention my health.”

 

Charles smiled. If he didn’t know better he’d suspect Lord Beaumont had a tendre for some lady. Interesting. Charles had been in Beaumont’s employ for seven years. His lordship had never been so testy, and Beaumont hated
ton
events.

Hearing voices, Charles entered the hall to find Henley, Lord Beaumont’s valet, and Finster in conversation.

“Mr. Mariville,” Henley asked, “has his lordship seemed a bit surly of late?”

Apparently, Charles wasn’t the only one who’d noticed a change. “Why, what’s happened?”

“Well, normally I would never mention it, however, this morning he bit off my nose simply for asking if he would dine at his club.” Henley sniffed. “I’ve been his lordship’s valet since he came upon Town, and he has never been churlish before.”

Finster cut in. “I have been in service with the Beaumont family since before his lordship’s birth,” the butler said, in his supremely lofty manner. “Never has the master flung himself in and out of the house as he’s been doing lately, not even when he was a young man.”

Charles glanced at them. “He has seemed a little out of sorts lately, but I don’t doubt it will work itself out.”

Lighthearted, Charles returned to his office to refuse the invitations he normally accepted—and accept the invitations he normally refused.

Things were becoming very interesting.

 

Lady Beaumont glanced up as her daughter entered the morning room in Upper Brook Street, where she was sitting with Robert, who’d arrived unannounced.

“Robert, what are you doing here?” Freddy asked. “I don’t remember Mama summoning you.”

He glared. “A pretty state of affairs it’s become when a man can’t visit his grandmother when he wishes.”

“Freddy, leave the boy alone,” Lady Beaumont said, then paused, asking her daughter, “Did you discover what we want to know?”

Freddy’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Yes, Mama, I did, and very intriguing I found it. Unless you need me here, I’ll attend to our mail.”

“Go on. Return when you’re finished.” Lady Beaumont turned her attention to Robert. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

He paced, picking up objects and setting them down. His grandmother watched with amusement until he scowled at an old, expensive piece of Chinese porcelain. “Robert, sit.”

Robert took a seat in the chair next to the sofa upon which she sat. “Now, you may tell me what you want.”

He stared into the fire for a moment. “Grandmama, I have—there is—well, I think I would like to make a . . . push.”

She studied him, taking in the desperate, haunted look in his face. “Robert, are you trying to tell me you’ve found an eligible lady for whom you are thinking of offering?”

“Yes, that’s it.” He looked relieved by his grandmother’s prescience.

“That’s wonderful, but there must be something amiss for you to be here. What’s the problem, my boy?”

He let out an anguished groan. “There is no getting near her. The only time she is not surrounded by a crowd of others is when she’s riding in the morning. I’ve refused invitations to the types of parties she attends for so long, I don’t receive them anymore.”

“We shall speak with your aunt to see what she can arrange.”

At that moment, Freddy reentered the room. “What do you want me to arrange?”

“Robert wants to attend
ton
parties again. He’ll need vouchers for Almack’s.”

At the mention of Almack’s, Robert rolled his eyes.

Freddy pressed her lips together. “Robert, if you want to do the pretty, you’ll need to attend all the entertainments. I’ll ask Mrs. Drummond-Burrell for a voucher for you. Clementina has always had a soft spot for a rake.” Freddy pursed her lips. “Have you received any invitations at all?”

“For St. Eth and Evesham’s balls. Other than that, nothing.”

She tapped her chin. “I’ll visit Lady Bellamny again to-morrow. Once I tell her, word will go round quickly. If you’re still close to Evesham, you’d be well advised to ask Lady Evesham for help. She’s very discreet and well connected.”

Robert’s countenance lightened. “Yes, that’s a good idea. Phoebe will be able to do the trick.”

Lady Beaumont nodded. “Good, now take your fidgety self off. You’ll give me a spasm if I have to watch you anymore.”

Robert smiled with amusement. “Grandmama, what a faradid-dle. You’ve never had a spasm in your life.”

“No, but there’s no saying I won’t start having them,” she retorted.

“Would you like me to bring you some vinaigrette or feathers to burn when I next visit?” he asked with credible solicitude.

His grandmother threw a pillow at him.

He ducked and blew her a kiss as he left the room.

“His grandfather, to the life,” Lady Beaumont reminisced with a misty smile. “Now Freddy, what have you found out about our mystery lady?”

“Her name is Lady Serena Weir . . .”

A
s Robert walked toward Grosvenor Square, he felt better than he had in weeks. Wilson, the Dunwood butler, showed him to the library, where Marcus, working on some papers, glanced up as Robert was announced.

“Robert, what brings you here?”

He took in the stack of documents on the large mahogany partner’s desk. “I don’t wish to disturb you. Do you have time?”

Marcus waved his hand at the papers. “Don’t let this bother you. I don’t have to do it all myself. That’s one of the joys of having a wife who knows as much about estate management as do I. Please, come in.”

He motioned Robert to a chair.

Robert sat and tried unsuccessfully to sort his thoughts. This was not going to be as easy as he’d supposed. “Marcus, when you were courting Phoebe, did you feel, well, crazed?”

“Crazed, exasperated, murderous, as well as a number of other things,” Marcus said. “What has my courtship with Phoebe to do with you?”

Robert swallowed. “Well I—I, I’m not quite sure how to put this . . .”

Marcus’s face darkened. “Put what? Is it something to do with Phoebe?”

“No, no. I need advice because . . . I am not feeling at all the thing lately, and I came to ask for Phoebe’s help.”

Marcus’s lips twitched. “Robert, are you trying to tell me you think you might be in love?”

Beaumont recoiled as if his friend had thrown a punch. “
Love?
No. It’s not possible.”

He slumped in the chair and sunk into his own thoughts. The problem was they weren’t telling him anything useful.

Marcus waited.

After a few moments, Robert gave up trying to sort out his muddled mind. Lifting his head, he fixed Marcus with a stare. “How would I recognize if I’m in love?
Not that I am,
but, with Phoebe, how did you know?”

“I was in a pretty fair way to being in love, but when my beloved wife knocked me down, I was sure of it. Though I don’t recommend it as an experience.”

“Phoebe hit you? Why?”

“I was stupid.”

Robert stared out the window as Marcus went to the sideboard.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Marcus asked.

“A wine, thank you.”

Marcus tugged the bell pull and a footman popped his head in the room. “Yes, my lord?”

“Please ask her ladyship to attend me.”

The door closed. Marcus gave a glass of wine to Robert and took one for himself.

A few minutes later Phoebe entered. She glanced at Robert.

Marcus shrugged. “The only thing I’ve been able to determine is Robert’s not in love. Perhaps you can discern what the problem is. I have great faith in your powers of perception, my dear.”

Phoebe sat on the small sofa next to the chair Lord Beaumont occupied. “Robert, what is it and how can we help?”

If he knew what the deuce was wrong, he wouldn’t be here. Frustrated, he said, “I’m having these feelings, and—and I don’t know what they are. Marcus says I’m in love, but I can’t be . . .”

Phoebe bit her lip. “You have an attraction for someone?”

Attraction? Damned obsession might be more accurate. “Yes, that’s it, and I can’t seem to think of anything else. I feel as if I am walking in circles, and—”

Marcus interrupted. “Just to be clear, Beaumont, you are talking about a gently-bred female, not a . . .”

“Marcus, do be quiet. Of course he’s talking about a lady.” Phoebe turned back to Beaumont. “Go on Robert. Tell me about her. Is she someone I know?”

“It’s Lady Serena.” He groaned.

Marcus handed Phoebe a glass of wine. “You may need this.”

She smiled at him. “Come Robert, it cannot be that bad. If you think you like Lady Serena you should come to know her better, and then, if you find you suit, you may try to fix her attention.”

Suddenly Robert felt a glimmer of hope. “My aunt Freddy is going to arrange for me to receive cards again and to be admitted to Almack’s, but that will take weeks. So many gentlemen are interested in her. What can I do until then?”

Marcus’s brows rose.
“Almack’s?”

“Marcus, shush. Of course Almack’s.” She once more addressed Beaumont. “Robert, there is nothing easier. You shall attend entertainments with us until you begin receiving cards. I am sure Rutherford will help as well. My dear friend, you will, no doubt, be amazed at how eagerly hostesses will send you invitations. You’re very eligible you know.”

Robert stood up. “I shall go see Rutherford now.”

Marcus pushed Beaumont back down. “I’ll send for him. There is no reason for you to go through this all over again. I daresay Phoebe will be happy to explain.”

Marcus muttered to himself as he once again walked to the bell pull. “You’d drive Rutherford mad.”

Within a short period of time, Anna and Rutherford were shown into the library. Anna glanced at Phoebe, who imperceptibly nodded her head as she motioned for Anna to sit next to her.

Anna grinned at her husband. A look of unholy amusement lit his face as he took a chair next to Marcus. Phoebe briefly explained Robert’s problem.

Anna forestalled Rutherford as he opened his mouth. “We shall, naturally, be happy to help you, Robert. Phoebe, do you attend Worthington’s party this evening?”

“Yes, we are chaperoning Serena.”

Robert’s head popped up like a jack-in-the-box, and he stared at her intently.

Phoebe’s lips quivered. “Yes, Robert, you may accompany us. However,” she said and narrowed her eyes at him, “I forbid you to try to fix her attention whilst you are unsure of yourself. If she were to develop a tendre for you, and you did not return her regard, she would be badly hurt. That, I will not allow.”

Rutherford took a sip of wine. “I wouldn’t be surprised if her card has been filled for a week.”

“True.” Phoebe was quiet for a minute. “I don’t suppose either of you have requested a dance?”

“I am to stand up with her for the quadrille,” Marcus replied.

“You’ve never danced the quadrille with me,” she protested.

Marcus smiled wolfishly. “No, of course not. Waltzing with you is much more interesting, my love, and eminently more satisfying. Serena wanted to practice her steps with someone she knew.”

“I am to dance a waltz with her.” At Beaumont’s glare, Rutherford quickly added, “Also because she wanted to practice her steps.”

“Robert,” Phoebe asked, “how long has it been since you have danced a quadrille?”

“Even in the underbelly of the
ton,
we dance.”

Phoebe pursed her lips. “I think both of you should give your dances to Robert.”

“As long as Serena agrees,” Anna said, “I think it would be unexceptional.”

“Good, it’s settled then. Marcus and Rutherford shall ask that Robert be allowed to take their places.” Phoebe smiled at Robert. “There, that was easily solved.”

 

Serena waited to be handed up to the Dunwood coach. To her surprise, Lord Beaumont alighted, elegantly attired in a black coat, a nicely patterned waistcoat, and black breeches. His cravat was fashionably and neatly tied. He must be the best looking man in the
ton.

He bowed and Serena hid her surprise when he dismissed the footman and insisted upon helping her into the coach himself.

Her hand tingled when he touched it as it had before, and in her dreams. Serena peeked up at him through her lashes. He gazed down at her. His green eyes smoldered with a heat her body reacted to, but that she didn’t understand. She had trouble swallowing and her breathing was shallow. Did she affect him in the same way he affected her? What did it mean?

Once there, Robert escorted her into the ballroom. Serena thanked him and joined a group of ladies.

Miss Featherton, a young woman of two Seasons, greeted Serena. “Lady Serena, who is the gentleman that accompanied you?”

“Were you not listening when he was announced?” Miss Emerson, a plump lady in her early twenties who’d joined them, asked.

Miss Featherton glanced at the ceiling and huffed. “No, I was
looking
at him.”

Serena gave a polite smile. “He is Viscount Beaumont.”

“He reminds me of a Greek god.” Miss Featherton sighed. “I’ve never seen him before. He must not spend much time in London.”

“Oh no, I believe he spends most of his time in London.” Miss Emerson lowered her voice. “I heard Dowager Lady Worthington say to Mama he’d not attended a ball like this for years, and he must be thinking of marrying.” She frowned slightly. “Then Mrs. Carter said she’d heard of a lady in despair over him, and Mama said she knew the lady and that the lady should have known better than to behave as she did.”

Serena’s grip on her fan tightened. This gossip about Lord Beaumont didn’t sound at all good.

Miss Featherton’s eyes grew wide. “Did they say the woman’s name?”

“No, they saw me and Lady Worthington just remarked that the ball would now be a success because he’d attended. Mama said I could stand up with Lord Beaumont if he asked me, but I mustn’t go anywhere alone with him.”

Miss Featherton’s eyes grew even wider and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Do you think he is a rake?”

“Well . . .” Miss Emerson glanced around and said in a conspiratorial tone, “I think he must be. Otherwise why would Mama stop talking about him when she saw me? If he’s looking for a wife, perhaps he’s reforming.”

Serena pressed her lips together. How dare these girls blacken his name so carelessly? “I wouldn’t repeat idle gossip. He is a friend of my cousin, Lady Evesham, and he’s been very kind to me.”

Miss Emerson’s face fell. “But wouldn’t it be romantic to have a reformed rake fall in love with one?” She sighed. “I’d be happy just to dance with him.”

For the first time since Serena had arrived in London, she felt the differences in the ages of the other ladies making their come out. She wasn’t at all sure rakes did reform, which boded ill for her if the talk was true. When Lord Beaumont was near, she had trouble remembering any other gentlemen existed.

 

Robert bowed and lifted Serena’s hand to his lips before placing it on his arm. He’d wanted to talk to her and keep her by his side. Unfortunately, the quadrille was not conducive to holding a lengthy conversation.

He smiled, confident in his ability to charm her as easily as he did any other female. “Lady Serena, you dance delightfully.”

She glanced up shyly. “Thank you, my lord. I have not danced the quadrille long. I’m a little concerned I might miss my steps.”

Robert blinked, caught off guard by her guilelessness. “I would never have guessed you’d not been dancing it for years.”

Serena smiled delightedly up at him, and he stopped breathing.

“I am having such a good time in London. I feel almost like a princess,” she confided.

And he was lost, struggling not to respond to her innocent joy. Collecting himself, Robert replied with practiced grace. “You look like a princess.”

The paces of the dance parted them and brought them together again. Serena glanced at him, gratefully. “Thank you, my lord. You are too kind.”

Robert searched her face when she spoke the words he’d heard too often while engaging in a flirtation. Yet unlike other females, she meant what she’d said and he didn’t want her gratitude. He wanted . . . He didn’t know what he wanted, except for her to smile again. “I am only telling you the truth.”

She did look like a princess and was easily the most elegant and beautiful woman in the room. Her gown of Pomona green set off the red in her hair and was cleverly fashioned to make her shoulders appear almost naked. What would the rest of her look like? She wore only a long strand of pearls looped low over her luscious breasts. Breasts he desperately wanted to touch and taste. Matching pearl drops highlighted her shell-like ears, and there was that curl over her left breast, tempting him to touch her.

A light pink infused her cheeks and Serena lowered her gaze.

Drat. Could she have read his thoughts? Now what was he supposed to say? “So tell me, Lady Serena, what is it you enjoy most about being in Town?”

When she glanced up, he became lost in her eyes.

“People have been so kind to me.”

He didn’t expect that. Anger rose at the thought she might have been hurt. “Did the people you knew before not treat you as they should?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that. All of them were my dependants.” Serena’s answer reassured him. “I—I didn’t have much interaction with anyone else. I never truly thought to find the people in London so welcoming.”

Robert held her gaze for a few moments. Once again, her candor was unexpected and for the first time in his life, he had no witty response.

He returned Serena to her circle and retreated to a pillar he could stand against to watch her. His plan to grow tired of her had failed. Each time Robert saw her, he wanted her more. Touching her made his body yearn for what it couldn’t have and awakened a desire he’d never experienced before. His battered heart stirred. Lady Serena was far more dangerous than he’d thought.

 

Serena’s thoughts drifted to Lord Beaumont while she chatted with the other ladies between the dance sets. He’d seemed concerned, as if he wanted to protect her.

Lord Waverly claimed her for the next set, a country dance she knew well. Serena glanced over at Lord Beaumont. He was hopelessly handsome and appeared so alone. The thought that he could have a bad reputation disturbed her more than she wanted to admit. He’d gone to great lengths to stand up with her this evening, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

Serena looked up at Lord Waverly. This was so different than her dance with Lord Beaumont. Serena’s experience with gentlemen, other than in her family, could fit in a thimble. Even her brother and father hadn’t been around very much. She’d not been out of the schoolroom when her mother passed away. After her father died and her brother remained on Wellington’s staff, she’d been alone. Serena was out of her depth when it came to men, but now Phoebe and Anna could advise her.