Dangerous to Love (32 page)

“Good God, no! No one knows about us, except for Flynn.”

“Then how have you managed to persuade the inestimable Mr. Hadley to contain his impatience? You are not getting any younger in years. He must wonder why you have not snapped him up while you still have the chance.”

He meant it as a joke. She knew he meant it as a joke. And even if he didn’t, she couldn’t afford to get his back up. And what did it matter if he alluded to her advanced years? At five and twenty, she
was
practically a confirmed spinster, wasn’t she? He was saying no more than everybody else was thinking. Evidently, he thought she was at her last prayers.

Even if she was at her last prayers, she would never admit it to him.

“Serena, I—”

“Trevor isn’t like you, Julian. He is devoted to me. My welfare always comes first with him. He respects my reluctance to take that final, irrevocable step. And this time around, there can be no destroying the evidence of the marriage if one’s husband turns out to be a faithless libertine.”

“A faithless libertine? Would you care to explain that remark?”

She detected the temper in him, and that made her smile. “Oh, I think you can explain it better than I can.”

The finale of the fireworks display burst around them like an exploding sun. The earth trembled beneath their
feet and the applause from the spectators rose to swell the unearthly racket of a multitude of detonating rockets and Catherine wheels. The silence of the two inside the arbor remained inviolate.

At length, Julian said, “You sound like a wronged wife. Jealous, Serena?”

“Jealous?” She sent him a look that would have reduced him to a smoldering cinder if he had been able to see it. “I would want my head examined if I were jealous of the sort of women you take up with.”

He was truly amused now. “What do you know of the sort of women I take up with?”

She almost managed to hold on to her temper, then he laughed softly, and caution was thrown to the winds. “The whole of London is agog with your bedroom exploits in Charles Town.”

“And here I thought I was the soul of discretion.”

“Do you call it discreet to fight three duels in one night over three different women?”

“You will have to refresh my memory. I have no recollection of such a thing.”

She gasped, swung away from him, then returned until they were toe to toe. “I suppose fighting duels over women is such a commonplace with you that you can’t even remember the names and faces of the women involved?”

Even in that dim light, she could see that he was grinning from ear to ear. Stung, she went on hotly, “The actress, Mary Donovan? The madam of that bawdy house, Mrs. Carla What’s-her-name? And last but not least, oh no, by no means least, that Indian girl whom you won in a game of cards? Does that refresh your memory?”

He didn’t try to contain his laughter. Between chuckles and chortles, he got out, “Serena, you amaze me. Your memory is far better than mine. What I can’t understand
is why you should take on so? Those women can mean nothing to you.”

“They mean less than nothing to me, except perhaps to convince me that the society of loose women is your proper element.”

As soon as the words were out, she knew what he was thinking. He’d confided in her once that when he was a young boy, he had been practically raised by whores and prostitutes. That thought had not entered her head when she’d uttered her vile taunt.

“Julian, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

His teeth were clenched. “You have the disposition of a shrew and the mouth of a fishwife. But I have told you this before.”

Her face flushed scarlet under his contempt. With great dignity, every inch the grande dame, she picked up her skirts and marched around him, making a beeline for the gap in the hedge. He came after her, shouldering his way through the crush of dispersing spectators. At one of the fountains, he caught up with her.

His voice was hissing with the force of his anger. “What makes you think you are different from those loose women you so obviously despise?”

When she stuck her nose in the air, ignoring him as she quickened her pace, he reached for her. Swinging her to face him, he administered a rough shake. “You shared my bed,” he sneered, “believing that our marriage was a sham, then you betrayed me. What does that make you?”

“Betrayed you?” she cried out. “I never betrayed you! My God, I thought I was in love with you! But no longer! All I want from you, Julian Raynor, is an assurance that certificate has been destroyed. Then we shall both be free to go with our own kind.”

“You’ll have that assurance when it suits me, and not a moment before.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that when there is a pressing reason for me to have done with our marriage, I’ll let you know about it.”

Stunned, she stared up at him. Suddenly catching her breath, she shrilled, “You poisonous snake! I should have expected this from you, a gamester!”

“And I should have known better than to trust a deceiving, conniving light-skirts.”

She reared back and swung at him with her clenched fist. Julian ducked, and her momentum carried her to the edge of the fountain. When he reached for her, she flung off his hands and went tottering back.

“Serena, no!”

His warning cry came too late. She took a belated step to the side, then staggered backward into the lily pond. Hooped skirts billowed out around her like a ship in full sail. Serena sat there in watery splendor, knees drawn up to her chin, water from the fountain cascading over her head and shoulders, and flowing in unending rivulets into the gaping bodice of her gown. When she looked up, she gasped in horror. In the heat of battle, while they had been deaf and blind to everything but themselves, a circle of grinning spectators had formed around them and were observing the little drama with avid interest. Their laughter and titters were more easily borne than the suppressed chuckles that issued from Julian’s mouth.

“Serena!”

“Julian!”

The two voices coming simultaneously had Serena groaning in mortification. Trevor would never understand how she could come to be in this predicament. It was the other voice, however, that gave her her worst moment. Of all the people who must witness her humiliation, it would have to be Lady Amelia Lawrence.

Julian was the first to recover his wits. Speaking in a
carrying voice for the benefit of the curious bystanders, he said, “My dear Miss Ward, I do beg your pardon. It was most clumsy of me. Allow me to help you.” Then he spoiled it with a snicker.

Though she wanted to scratch out his dancing eyes, there was nothing for it but to accept the hands he reached out to her. When she came out of the water, the spectators burst into a spontaneous round of applause.

“Aphrodite, rising from the water,” Julian’s amused voice whispered in her ear. “Tsk, tsk, Victoria. What a wanton exhibition.”

Pulling away from him, smiling dulcetly for the benefit of the spectators, she said pleasantly, “My brothers will wish to thank you in person for all you have done for me, Major Raynor.” Preferably with pistols at twenty paces.

His brows climbed at the implied threat. “I look forward to meeting them.”

His words deflated her. Jeremy and Clive would be no match for this villain in a duel, nor had she seriously contemplated such a thing. The less she had to do with Julian Raynor, the better it would be for all concerned.

“Serena, what the deuce is going on here?” demanded Trevor Hadley, coming up at that moment. “If this gentleman has insulted—”

“Oh no, Trevor,” Serena got out quickly. “I took a fall, and Major Raynor was helping me. Oh, I don’t believe you are acquainted?” And ignoring the sodden state of her ruined frock, as well as the puddle of water forming at her feet, she made the introductions. Nor did her smile falter when the elegant brunette sidled up to Julian to lay a proprietary hand on his sleeve.

Lady Amelia Lawrence possessed an arresting beauty. She was slightly taller than Serena and far more generously endowed. Her dark good looks and exquisite figure were set off by an elaborate confection of silver tissue and
dark-blue silk. Seeing her, Serena was made excruciatingly aware not only that she had the look of a scuttled sailboat, but also that her modest gown of green sarcenet had been made over from one of Catherine’s ballgowns that was already three seasons out-of-date. Resolutely ignoring the grin on Julian’s face, she held herself a little straighter; her chin lifted a fraction. Her one thought was to retreat with as much dignity as was left to her.

“Are you two ladies acquainted?” began Julian.

Lady Amelia answered with a little laugh. “Oh, Miss Ward and I have known each other these many years. But I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making this gentleman’s acquaintance.” Her dark eyes smiled alluringly into Mr. Hadley’s.

As Mr. Hadley stuttered his name and made an awkward bow to London’s reigning belle, Julian slipped out of his coat and draped it around Serena’s shoulders. Truth to tell, she was glad that someone was aware of her discomfort but, perversely, she wished it had been anyone but Julian Raynor.

“A fine, upstanding man,” he whispered, squeezing her shoulders consolingly. “Devoted, faithful, always puts your interests first?”

She flung him a look of smoldering reproach. Her lower lip trembled.

The smile died out of his eyes. “Victoria,” he said softly, “you are magnificent.”

Suddenly, it was all too much for her—Julian’s mockery, Mr. Hadley’s defection, Lady Amelia’s perfection, and the goggle-eyed spectators who had yet to disperse. Turning on her heel, she stalked off, without a word of explanation, without a pretense of an apology. Mr. Hadley broke off in the middle of a sentence, uttered a surprised exclamation, and took off after her.

A muscle clenched in Julian’s cheek as he watched their progress through the crowd.

   Serena felt as if the weight of the world was balanced on the crown of her head. The coat draped around her shoulders smelled distressingly of Julian’s cologne. Water squished in her shoes. In her present discomfort, to answer the barrage of questions that came at her from the five other occupants of Mr. Hadley’s hired coach was almost more than she could manage.

“We were not quarreling. How should we be? I scarcely know the man. It’s just as I told you. I was pushed from behind and went sprawling. I may have uttered a few choice words, but those were not directed at Mr. Raynor particularly. As I said, he came to my assistance. That’s all there was to it.”

“We could hear your raised voices as we came up to you,” said Mr. Hadley.

Clive was laughing. “It sounded more like a lovers’ tiff.”

“Clive!” reproved Catherine, sending him a quelling glance.

“Well, it did. Oh, not that it was. I know that. But you could hear them practically all the way to the Rotunda. When I finally came up to them and discovered it was Serena and Raynor who were making all that racket, you could have knocked me down with a feather. I’ll wager that Serena’s name and Raynor’s will be all around the gentlemen’s clubs and coffeehouses by tomorrow morning.”

“How vulgar!” exclaimed Catherine.

“Yes, isn’t it?” replied Clive cheerfully.

Letty sniffed. “Not to mention Mr. Hadley’s name and Lady Amelia’s. That was the spectacle that sent me into hoots of laughter.”

Mr. Hadley rounded on her. “None of this would have occurred if you had behaved with a modicum of propriety.”

“Stuff and nonsense!” retorted Letty. “Lord Harry is practically a member of the family. There is nothing unusual in our going off together.”

“Well, there ought to be.”

“Jeremy, what’s to be done?” Catherine Ward reached a hand to her husband as if to shake him from his reveries.

“It will all blow over,” he said. “It’s not as though Raynor is one of our intimates. We are not likely to cross paths very often. And when we do, if the world sees that we Wards are on terms of civility with the gentleman, the little contretemps will soon be forgotten. My advice to you all is to act as if nothing had happened.”

“Sound advice,” said Mr. Hadley.

Serena said nothing. She was thinking of Julian and Lady Amelia, wondering where they were and what they were doing. Sniffing, she pulled the folds of his velvet coat more securely around her.

   Serena Ward was the perfect antidote to a man’s passion. This was the thought that possessed Julian’s mind as he climbed the private staircase to his rooms in his gaming house. He had not even attempted to bed the delectable Lady Amelia. How could he when his mind was full of another woman? Serena Ward. He’d burned with the thought of laying his hands on her and shaking the life out of her. He’d pleaded a headache, a
headache,
for God’s sake. As an excuse, it was so absurd that Amelia had actually believed it.

It wasn’t necessary to shake the life out of her. He had the means to bring her to her knees. She could moon over the inestimable Mr. Hadley till her hair turned silver before
he would release her from their marriage bond, and she had only herself to thank for it.

Throwing off his smallsword, then his waistcoat, he stretched full length on top of the bed. He wasn’t being precisely fair to Serena. Though it irked him to admit it, he was the one who had set things off on the wrong foot. One moment he had been all reasonableness, and the next moment, he’d been bristling like a sullen schoolboy.

Trevor is a very fine upstanding man.
As soon as the words were spoken, he had remembered a different conversation, a different set of words.
I
would no more think of taking up with your kind than I would with thieves and murderers.

She must know how well he had done for himself. The whole of London knew it. In Charles Town, he wasn’t a man of dubious origins who was kept on the periphery of society life as he had once been in England. He was a man of wealth, property, and considerable influence. His favor was curried by those in government circles as well as by society matrons who had young daughters to wed. Did Serena comment on any of his accomplishments? Of course she didn’t! She flung in his teeth her baseless accusations about his women and his dueling.