Dangerous to Love (37 page)

She pinned the girl in the looking glass with a hard stare. “What do you hope to gain by all this?” she demanded, making a motion with one hand to take in her finery. The girl in the looking glass, far from returning glare for glare, looked to be crushed, as though she might burst into a fit of weeping if someone looked at her the wrong way. Hardening herself against that look, Serena stomped to a straight-backed chair and plumped herself into it.

She did not know why she was beset by so many uncertainties. Everything was working out just as she had wished. It wasn’t as though Julian were coercing her into keeping this appointment. There was good reason why they should both be present when the evidence of their Fleet marriage was finally consigned to the flames. She, as much as Julian, would never feel secure if she did not witness the deed with her own eyes. Once it was accomplished, they would both be free to go on with their own lives.

For her part, that meant marriage to Trevor Hadley. Though it was many months since they had talked of marriage, she knew that she had only to drop the hint and Trevor would pay her his addresses. Until now, he had deferred to her wish that they prolong the courtship so
that they could come to know each other before taking that irrevocable step. It had certainly been a long courtship. Patience, she supposed, was Mr. Hadley’s most notable virtue.

Delving into her pocket, she pulled out a lace-edged handkerchief and proceeded to blow her nose. It was absurd, she scolded herself, to find fault with Mr. Hadley for his lack of ardor when she was the one who held him off. She didn’t want an ardent suitor. She wanted someone who was steady and dependable, and that was exactly what she had got. She should be happy, not moping like some silly schoolgirl who didn’t know what she wanted.

She felt guilty, of course. Now that the one obstacle to their marriage would soon be removed, she wondered if she dared go through with it. It was taken for granted that she, an unmarried lady, would be coming to her husband untouched. She had wrestled with her conscience long and hard over that particular wrinkle, and had decided that she should not be made to suffer for the rest of her life for something that wasn’t her fault. It was easy to make that decision when their marriage had seemed so far in the future. Now that it was at hand, her logic had lost some of its force.

Trevor was so moral. He would never understand how she had come to be involved with someone like Julian. As it was, he was deeply distressed with all the rumors and speculation after the debacle at Ranelagh. In this instance, he knew she was blameless. If he ever suspected .  .  .

When the clock struck the hour, she started. Eleven o’clock. Rising to her feet, she moved to her dressing table and studied her reflection as she set her silver lace mask in place. Taking up her stole of matching silver lace, she threw it carelessly over her shoulders, and after dousing the candles, she stole from the room.

There was no Flynn waiting for her on the other side of
the door, not this time, and she felt his absence keenly. Tonight, Flynn’s services had been appropriated by Jeremy for Lady Kirkland’s assembly. Nevertheless, it was Flynn who had arranged tonight’s meeting, Flynn who had persuaded her that Julian’s anger had abated and he was as eager as she to have matters settled between them. They only needed to be in each other’s company long enough to burn their marriage certificate and she could be home in her bed long before the other members of her family returned from Lady Kirkland’s do.

A few steps took her to the York Water Gate. It wasn’t a boatman, however, who came out of the archway to meet her. It was Julian himself. She drew away to look up at him, studying him by the light from the lantern on the wall.

In his black cape and mask, he had the look of a highwayman. She gave a shivery, soundless laugh. In that moment, as she absorbed everything about him—his virile beauty, his arrogant, uncompromising masculinity—she no longer wondered why she had once been so susceptible to him, was still susceptible to him. Few women would be able to resist that appeal. The thought that few
had
resisted him settled the little flutters in the pit of her stomach.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. Taking her hand, he led her to the water’s edge. “I took it upon myself to escort you in person. I’ll not chance your safety to mere lackeys, not when Flynn could not be here to take you to me.”

For some absurd reason, tears stung her eyes. “Thank you,” she managed in a choked voice, and was saved from the necessity of saying more when he swept her into his arms and sprang lightly into the boat.

As the boatmen dipped their oars into the water, a silence fell, but it was a silence that held no undercurrents of hostility, at least, not as far as Serena could tell. Ever
since Flynn had told her of Julian’s abduction and all that he had suffered as a convicted felon, she had been overcome by a piercing sadness. Julian hadn’t seduced her then deliberately abandoned her. What had happened was nobody’s fault. They had been the victims of circumstance and their own prejudice.

No. They had been the victims of some monstrous plot to remove Julian from England. She and Flynn had racked their brains, trying to solve the mystery of who might have been behind it. No solution came to them, or rather, so many solutions that they were no further ahead.

It hurt her, of course, to think that Julian could have believed that she was capable of arranging his abduction. Flynn wasn’t clear on this point, but he thought, hoped, that he had persuaded Julian that she had been innocent of plotting against him. Soon, they would part forever. She wished desperately that at least they could part as friends. In the future, when she thought of Julian, there would be no bitterness to taint her memories. She wanted his memories of her, supposing he ever gave her a passing thought, to be equally as untainted.

At the Blackfriars Stairs, when Julian handed her out of the boat, a young man came forward to assist her. It took a moment before Serena recognized him. In her mind, she would always think of him as “Lord Alistair.”

“All’s well,” said Harry Loukas, looking at Julian.

When they came to the head of the stairs, it was a hackney that was waiting for them, and not the sedan that Serena had anticipated. For a moment, she hung back, her eyes darting from Julian to his companion. It was all so reminiscent of another time, when Julian had forced her into his carriage and had carried her off to Twickenham.

He made no move to coerce her, not even to hint her into the waiting carriage. “Either you trust me or you don’t,” said Julian. “Which is it to be?”

He had made up his mind that this time around, Serena must be allowed to make her own choices. She must come to him freely and without demur. And if she did, it would be forever; there would be no going back. There must be no misunderstanding on that point. But it would be her choice.

Good God, who was he trying to hoax? It was in his nature to use every weapon in his arsenal to persuade her to his will. He wanted to be fair, he wanted to be sensitive to her feminine scruples, but it was difficult when she was under such misapprehensions about him. He wasn’t like her father; he wasn’t like Allardyce; and if he couldn’t persuade her of that fact, so much the worse for her.

He was doing it again, condoning conduct that in another man he would condemn as thoroughly reprehensible. Nevertheless he had made up his mind that Serena should determine their future. Whatever her decision, he would abide by it. So be it.

She entered the carriage unassisted, mentally chastising herself as every kind of a fool. That other time, their circumstances had been entirely different. Julian had been suffering a guilty conscience, thinking that he had ruined an innocent young girl. Having learned that she had a suitor, he had no reason to feel responsible for her, no reason to carry her off.

Now that there were no boatmen to inhibit conversation between them, she racked her brains for something innocuous to say. “That was young Mr. Loukas, was it not? What is he doing here?”

Julian indicated that she should look out the window. “He’s arranged an escort for us.”

Serena looked out the window and counted three outriders. “Are you expecting an attack?” she asked incredulously.

“You can ask that after what happened to you the other day?”

She experienced a small ripple of resentment at the hard tone he had employed, followed almost immediately by a flood of remorse. Flynn had told her how he and Julian had exacted their own form of retribution on the men who had attacked her, and though the finer part of her nature was shocked by Julian’s uncivilized conduct, there was another side of her which relished the punishment he had meted out in defense of her honor.

“Why did you do it?” she asked, voicing a stray thought aloud. Recovering quickly, fearing that he might think that she was fishing for some sort of declaration, she plunged on. “Flynn should not have told you about the attack on me. All the same, I can’t say I am sorry that those two came by their just deserts. Thank you, Julian. I mean that sincerely.”

“They didn’t meet with their just deserts, and they can thank Flynn that they got off so lightly. And who else should Flynn confide in? Mr. Hadley? He would not have lifted a finger against them. Your brothers? Their gentlemen’s code of honor would have demanded satisfaction with pistols or foils, and all London would have got to hear of it. Yes, and the reason for it. No one will lift an eyebrow if they hear that I, a gamester and a commoner, resorted to fisticuffs to settle a dispute.”

She was, as ever, confused by his sudden shifts in mood. Just once in her life, she would like to know exactly where she stood with him! On second thought, she decided she didn’t wish to know. Better not to open that Pandora’s box.

When the carriage stopped at the side door to his house, Julian alighted first. He insisted that Serena wait until some pedestrians had passed before he reached in to
help her down. The humor in the situation began to work on her.

“Really, Julian, is all this caution necessary? Whose reputation are you trying to protect? Yours or mine?”

He was smiling when he answered. “Since I have nothing to lose, as you and Flynn have been at some pains to convince me, it must be yours.”

“According to Flynn, I don’t have much of a reputation to lose either.” She was making conversation, hardly aware of what she was saying, relieved and pleased that his mood had lightened. “They are making wagers in all the coffee shops, but you will know all about that. Jeremy is fit to be tied.”

“Yes, he came to me to see what, if anything, could be done to put a stop to it.”

As they conversed, they mounted the stairs to his rooms. “Jeremy came to see you?” Serena’s brows met in a frown. “He said nothing to me.”

“He will, in his own good time.”

“And .  .  . and what did you decide?”

“Nothing untoward. You know the sort of thing—that we should meet in public places, ostensibly by chance, and let the world see that we are merely polite and distant acquaintances.”

“And neither you nor Jeremy thought to consult my wishes?”

“I’m consulting you now. What do you think we should do?”

No inspiration striking her, she said lamely, “I don’t know. But I do know that I like to be consulted about things that concern me.”

“That is exactly what I told Sir Jeremy. He assured me that nothing would be done without your consent.”

She wasn’t sure that she liked the sound of that, but
noting the grin on his face, she picked up her skirts and swept by him as he held the door for her.

Just inside the bookroom, she halted. There were vases of massed poppies on every available surface, making a vivid impression, and in front of the empty grate, a table with a pristine white damask cloth had been set for two. Along the sideboard were laid out a plethora of gleaming silver servers as well as crystal decanters and glasses.

“It’s only a cold collation, I’m afraid,” he said, removing her stole and throwing it over the back of a chair. Before she could divine his purpose, he had removed her mask and tossed it aside also. “In the interests of privacy, I gave my man the night off.”

“But .  .  . I didn’t think .  .  . I didn’t expect .  .  .”

His expression altered; his voice became less animated. “I see. Then, if you cannot bear to be in my presence for more than a few minutes, by all means let us proceed to the one thing that is of any real interest to you. I shall only be a moment.”

She started to put out a hand, then snatched it back before he could see it. Once the door had closed behind him, however, she wished she
bad
stopped him. He had gone to so much trouble for her, not just tonight, but in avenging her honor and in consulting her brother about her welfare. She could not believe how ungenerous she was. Surely there could be no harm in sharing a bite of supper with him? She had wished with her whole heart that they could part as friends. Evidently, so did he. Then why was she suddenly acting like a silly schoolgirl?

She was acting like a silly schoolgirl because Julian Raynor, quite unconsciously, was putting ideas into her head, and that was nothing compared to what he was doing to the rest of her anatomy. Her breasts were heavy and bursting the confines of her tight bodice; her pulse
was racing; deep inside, she detected the quickening of her womb and the melting that anticipated the hard intrusion of his body. There was no point upbraiding herself for what was beyond her control. A woman in her dotage would fare no better than she. Julian had this effect on many women, as she should know.

Somewhat sobered by that thought, she marched to the sideboard and began to inspect what was under the lids of the various servers.

This was how Julian found her a moment later when he stepped into the room. Since she was unaware of his presence, he allowed himself the pleasure of feasting his eyes on her. In her blue silk gown with the silver lace, she was unquestionably beautiful, and the soft glow of the candlelight gilded her hair and skin, making him want to reach out and touch. He had always known she was a graceful girl. He watched her movements as she investigated the supper his chef had laid on for them. She was every inch the lady, and that made him smile.