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"Mother, I make known to you my wife, Serena. If you're not prepared to be civil to her, you may as well leave now."

Serena was scrambling to her feet, straightening her skirt and trying to confine her tousled hair.

The dowager blistered her with a look. "
Serena Riverton!"
But then Francis's words seemed to sink home, and she took a deep breath. "Tea. I need tea." She flung off her fur cloak and sat rigidly in a chair.

Serena popped the puppy back in its basket and hastened to ring the bell. When the maid came, she ordered a tea tray.

Francis let his mother glare at him. She was the least of his troubles.

"Francis," she said at last, "I need to speak to you in private."

He turned to Serena and smiled. "You'd better let her get it over with, love."

He saw Serena start at his use of an endearment, though it had fallen without effort from his lips. She gathered up the basket and prepared to leave, but then turned to her mother-in-law. "It wasn't his fault," she said earnestly. "Truly, it wasn't."

"Serena!" Francis had to be sharp before she made a disastrous revelation, but he hated the frightened glance she cast at him. She swallowed and retreated from the room, basket clutched in her arms. He understood her fears much better now, and he desperately wanted to follow and reassure her.

"Really, Francis," said his mother as soon as the door closed. "You must be demented. And she's a total hoyden as well. She was on the floor, showing her garters!"

"Only to me, Mother," he said mildly.

"And what of Anne?"

He looked down at his right boot. "I am sorry about that. But she'll do as well or better elsewhere."

"The duke and duchess are going to be most upset."

"I'm sure they are."

"Why could you not at least have married the woman in a decent fashion?"

Here we go again. I definitely should put it in the papers.

"Because she's increasing."

Lady Middlethorpe gaped. "Do you mean...? While you wren paying decent court to Lady Anne, you were...?
You wretch!"

"I'm sure you're right."

The tea tray came. As his mother seemed disinclined to act, he made the tea and poured it for her. She was very genuinely shocked and he couldn't blame her.

She drank the whole cup down. "Francis, I find this hard to believe of you."

"Thank you."

She stared at him. "Can you not tell me why? I thought I knew you, the kind of man you are..."

This was proving to be far more difficult than he'd expected. He could cut his mother off, simply refuse to answer her questions, but that was hardly fair. But he could not tell the truth.

"I thought I would be well suited by Anne, Mother, but... It was in November, when I went to settle that Ferncliff business. I met Serena, we acted unwisely, and there were consequences. In honor, I could do nothing else but marry her. I ask you to be kind to her."

His mother's shock was profound. She grew positively haggard. "In November... Oh, no."

"Serena is three months pregnant," he confirmed. "The situation will be obvious when the child is born."

His mother stared at him with a look of tragedy in her eyes.

"It is not quite as bad as that," he protested. "There will be talk, but these things happen."

"But you and Anne would have been
so
well suited."

Francis knew that if there were to be peace in his house, he would have to put an end to this. "Mother, I love Serena."

"Do you really, my dear?"

"Yes."

"And she loves you?"

"I believe so." Gads, and he'd always been such an honest fellow. Frank by name, frank by nature, Nicholas had once teased.

His mother stared thoughtfully into space. "Is love enough, do you think, with all else weighed against you?"

"I pray it is. But it's not quite so bad as that...."

"It most certainly is," she retorted with a return to her usual forceful manner. "The Arrans are going to be deeply offended, and there must be grave doubt as to whether anyone of consequence will acknowledge her. Matthew Riverton's widow!"

"Her family are solid gentry."

She flicked him an icy look. "The Allbrights have been louts for generations. I knew this girl's father. We had best all remove to the Priory tomorrow."

"I'm afraid that is not convenient."

"What, pray, is the purpose of staying here? There are few people of importance in Town, and you do not have the social connections to launch a dubious wife!"

"We are to dine tonight at Belcraven House. Beth Arden is a friend of Serena's."

Lady Middlethorpe stared. "The Marchioness...?" But then the surprise turned to disgust. "Oh, one of the Rogues. And
she
was a penniless schoolteacher before she trapped Arden to the altar." She sighed. "You are my son, however, and I will not let you suffer because... I suppose I will have to stay and take a hand in matters before you make a greater mull of it all."

With that salvo she marched out.

Francis collapsed into a chair, head in hands. He was tantalized by visions of what might have been. He could have married Anne Peckworth—a decorous marriage after at least a month or two of betrothal. They would have been surrounded by universal approval and good will. She would have behaved with shy decorum in the marriage bed, and at least nine months would have passed before the birth of the first child.

It was an idyllic vision.

But Francis stood and made himself put aside such thoughts. The course was set, and it was just a matter of getting over it as lightly as possible. No scandal lasts forever.

He went to acquaint Serena with their plans for the evening.

* * *

"Dine out?" said Serena. "But I don't have a suitable gown yet."

Serena was using that as an excuse. She hadn't missed the dowager's reaction and feared she could expect the same from all she met. As an Allbright, she was not good
ton;
as a Riverton, she was beyond the pale. She had been pacing her room taking comfort in the fact that her simple country clothes made any mingling in Society impossible. Now that his mother had been faced, surely they would go immediately into the country.

"Your blue will do. It won't be a formal affair."

"At a ducal mansion!"

"It will still be just the Rogues." He picked up a delicate figurine, then put it down rather sharply. "Trust me about this, Serena. There is nothing to fear. I'm sorry about my mother...."

"Oh, don't! She has a right to be shocked."

"Yes, she has. Thank you for being so understanding." He looked at her somberly. "And I want to talk about Anne."

Serena made a movement to stop him. The last thing she wanted was to discuss his lost love. He firmly grasped her hand. "Serena, I did not—and do not—love Anne Peckworth. You must believe that."

She searched his eyes and thought she saw truth. "But you wanted to marry her."

"She would have been a suitable bride. I am very fond of her and her family. Perhaps love would have come. I hoped so."

Serena hoped the pain of each sentence was not showing on her face, for he was trying to be kind and honest. Perhaps love will come for us, too, she thought, but without great hope. She was
not
suitable, and he must detest her family. "Thank you for being so honest," she said.

"I will always be honest with you. May I expect the same in return?"

"Yes, of course."

He touched her cheek gently. "Then I think we will do very well." She thought he might kiss her, and despite her dislike of the messy business, she would have welcomed it, but he moved away. He glanced at the puppy, sound asleep in the basket. "And you like her?"

"I love her. I've called her Brandysnap, Brandy for short. Do you think that silly?"

"Not at all. And she at least appears to have her functions under control, which will make life easier."

"Not entirely," said Serena with a wry smile. "She has soiled this gown a little. I must change in a moment. But she did look appropriately contrite."

He smiled at that. "A well-brought-up young lady overcome with excitement. I think you'll need some help with her, though. There is a kitchen boy here who could probably be persuaded to care for her when you cannot—judging from the longing looks I caught on his face as I was letting her run in the garden."

Serena hid her face by bending over the puppy. You are a truly good man, she thought. You are honest, you stood up for me without hesitation to your mother, you notice a kitchen boy's dreams. You deserve better than this debacle and I want to give you better. I wish I knew how.

"That sounds excellent," she said. She collected herself and turned, grateful for once that she had been trained to dissimulation in a hard school. "What time are we to go out this evening?"

Chapter 12

Serena spent the time before they were to leave trying to think of sensible ways to improve matters, but with little success. She knew nothing about Society life.

She had gone from school into prison, and she did not know the world at all. She did see, however, that her husband would be miserable if they were socially ostracized. How was it to be avoided once it was known that she was the relict of Randy Riverton? The wedding announcement would reveal that, but even if that hazard was avoided, it would only take one encounter with a man who had visited Stokeley Manor to create a scandal.

As Matthew's wife, she had never been forced to take part in the public displays of bed-work that had amused his guests so, but she had been made to watch. In the later years of her marriage, it had seemed to excite Matthew to make her uncomfortable.

She'd been forced to perform "attitudes," as made famous by Emma Hamilton, and sometimes lewd ones, skimpily dressed. It had depended largely on whether Matthew had been pleased with her or angry. After he had been told she was barren, he had been angry more often than not.

She looked back on that existence now as a bad dream, but one that still shadowed her present life. Cowering under that shadow, she had little faith that a meeting with Beth Armitage would help her. Beth had stayed safe at Miss Mallory's school until leaving to marry. She could know nothing of the life Serena had lived, and would certainly not understand.

Nor did Serena feel at ease about meeting Francis's friends. She was about to be pitch forked into a group of people who would side with him, who would see all the evils of his situation and blame her.

As the carriage rolled into one of London's finest squares, she wondered how much Francis had told his friends. Surely he wouldn't have told all. But how else had he explained his actions?

The carriage drew up at the majestic steps of a great house on Marlborough Square. The footman went to ply the knocker, then opened the carriage door and let down the steps. By the time Serena and Francis were approaching the massive doors, a small army of servants had appeared to attend to them.

They were ushered into a magnificent marble and gilt entrance hall. Serena stared, having never seen anything quite so grand in her life. It merely intensified her fears, and she stayed close to Francis's side.

As soon as her cloak was off, however, she was warmly and informally greeted by a handsome woman she still easily recognized as Beth.

"Serena! This is of all things wonderful!" She linked arms. "We are going to have such fun and become sickeningly maternal together. Speaking of sickening, have you been? No? I haven't, either, but I do feel queasy at times...."

Serena was swept up to a cozy saloon and introduced to a startlingly handsome blond man. Thus Serena found herself shaking hands with the heir to a dukedom, found her hand being kissed by the heir to a dukedom. Kissed with sensual expertise both on knuckles and palm. "I am a connoisseur of beauty," he said with a devastating twinkle in his blue eyes. "You are
very
welcome, Serena."

For some reason she could not take offense, but she blushed.