One Wicked Night (20 page)

Lucien awaited Serena in the comfort of his drawing room when he heard the first notes of her raised voice in the entrance hall. Moments later, Holford opened the door to admit her.

Serena swept past the butler and erupted into the room. Her smoky blue-gray eyes spitting resentment, Lucien noted with satisfaction that her gaze sought him immediately. The color in her cheeks ran high against the severe black muslin of her mourning dress.

She was beautiful. God, how he wanted to touch her.

“How
dare
you?” she questioned without preamble, each word hissed like an oath. “This,” she spat, holding up Lucien’s missive, “is nothing short of blackmail!”

Setting his brandy aside, Lucien rose and closed the door behind her, shutting out an inquisitive Holford. “I am well aware of that,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “If you will sit, I shall explain—”

“Nothing you have to say will change my mind.” Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. “This
scheme
is the most ruthless, underhanded . . . How could you?”

“Answer me. How could you threaten me with this? Only the most reprehensible blackguard would callously use his own child and threaten to besmirch its birth by making its parentage public, especially by planting it in the ear of gossips like Lady Jersey!”

“Serena—”

“What if gossip doesn’t ruin me enough, my lord? What then? A few lines in the
Times
letting all of London know that I’m a fallen woman and our child is a bastard?”

Lucien inhaled deeply. “If that is what is required to bring you to the altar, yes.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How can you expect me to ruin my late husband’s good name by wedding again so quickly? Do you care so little for me that you would think nothing of making my behavior and my condition the
ton’s
latest scandal?”

Lucien retrieved his drink and poured the liquid down his throat, never tasting it. “I thought I made my reasons clear yesterday. Your protection and our child’s upbringing are responsibilities I take very seriously. You chose not to present yourself here last evening. I warned you of consequences if you did not.” He pointed to the note in her hand. “That, Your Grace, is the consequence.”

She crumpled the note up in her fist, then threw it at him. It struck his chest and fell at his feet. “You self-serving knave! I stumble once.” She held up her finger. “Just once from the path of moral decency. And you insist on making certain the
ton
labels me my mother’s daughter.”

Her mother’s daughter?
He pondered the meaning of those words as he bent to retrieve the note. “I’ve no notion of what you speak. I merely wish to raise my child and see that you live long enough to bear it.”

She laughed. “Everyone else knows Lady Abbington. I was lucky to make a match at all, much less with a duke, thanks to her indiscriminate liaisons. I’ve spent my entire life striving to be different, and you think nothing of destroying all that with a single whisper.” Her eyes sparked with blue fury. “I wish I had never set eyes on you.”

“You did set eyes on me.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he curled his fingers about her arms and pulled her closer. “And much more, as I recall. No amount of regret will change that. The question is, will you make me carry through with my threat? Or will you be a docile bride when the vicar arrives?”

Her eyes widened, glaring with visible fury. “I have little choice, unless I want to be branded the same whore as my mother. But then, you planned it that way, didn’t you?”

She gasped, jaw dropping. “Cyrus left his fortune to
me
, and me alone. I won’t give it over to you to squander.”

“I assure you, I have neither the need nor the desire for the man’s money. It’s yours to spend as you please, and I’ll sign anything to that effect you would care to have drawn up.”

“My solicitor will contact yours.”

Serena was proving tougher than he ever fathomed, given the shy creature he’d first made love to. He released her arm to whirl away and paced, coming to a halt behind the sofa. Broad palms gripping the cherry-trimmed backing, he offered, “Serena, I will endeavor to be considerate. I will check with you before committing to social engagements requiring us both. I will consult you on matters of holidays and households. You may redecorate however you like. I understand you’re less than happy about this match, and I am prepared to be indulgent—to a point.”

The anger shimmering from her in hot waves matched the tone of her voice. “What is it you expect of me in return?”

He paced again, stopping only long enough to lift his brandy from an end table. “Three simple things. One, to be a proper mother for the child, one who takes an active interest in his or her welfare.”

“That, my lord, will be easy. I’ve long wanted children.”

Serena bowed her head as she rubbed her belly protectively. The light shone off the golden fire of her hair, shimmered off her flawless, warm-toned skin. To him, she looked part angel, and it stirred something within him to realize that he had been the first man to discover what a wanton this particular woman could be.

“Yet never had them. Why?” he fished, hoping she would divulge more of the relationship she had shared with Warrington.

“That subject is closed. What else do you require?” she asked with a stubborn tilt to her chin.

He let the matter of her first marriage drop, for now. “I will, at some point, require an heir. Certainly, anytime soon would be impossible, given your . . . condition. After that, however, I shall expect it.”

Serena stiffened. Her pink lips, which he craved to claim, flattened in displeasure. “As long as you understand that once a boy is born, no further intimate contact will take place.”

He arched a brow that questioned and mocked at once. “If that is your wish.”

“It is, without question. And number three?”

“I
demand
absolute fidelity. You will not cuckold me as you did Warrington.”

Shock burst across her face before her eyes narrowed. She looked ready to slap him. “You’re insufferable and crude! I cannot fathom why I ever—”

Holford’s knock interrupted them. Lucien bade the servant to enter, and the man opened the portal for Niles to enter. His sister, Lady Raddington, followed closely behind.

“Did we come too early, old chap?” Niles asked, glancing back and forth between Lucien and Serena.

Lucien rose to greet his guests. He and Niles shared a hearty handshake. “Not at all.” He briefly kissed Anne’s hand. “Good evening, my lady.”

Niles’s sister raised her gaze, piercing Lucien with her censure. “Are you certain this is wise?”

Her question brought forth the painful reality. If Serena had never wed Warrington, Lucien might have desired to court Serena, woo her, win her. And under different circumstances, she might have welcomed his suit.

But maybes and might-have-beens were irrelevant. The only relevant fact was that he would soon wed an adulteress who carried his child.

He looked across the room to Serena. Her eyes showed a mixture of anger and the desperation of a hunted animal. He suppressed an urge to shelter her in his arms, tell her he would never be the ogre she imagined. Raking a hand through his hair, he sighed. He had always been a fool for a pretty face.

A moment later, Holford ushered in the clergyman.

****

The jovial old vicar smiled at Lucien, then his eyes alighted on Serena, and the smile widened. “I hope you are feeling better, my dear. It’s dreadful to postpone such a happy occasion for an illness.”

Serena’s gaze flew to Lucien. His stare dared her to refute his story. And she wanted to, the Lord knew. But she curbed her anger. To display it here, before virtual strangers, would be to stoop to Lucien’s vulgar level. Instead, she murmured to the white-bearded man, “A shame indeed.”

“Shall we begin?” With a smile and a merry wink, he added, “Your groom is eager.”

Nausea and resentment swirled within her. A hasty marriage would only make her slightly less scandalous than allowing the
ton
to know she had conceived Lucien’s child during her marriage to Cyrus. Either way, she was certain to be the center of gossip. Her indiscretion would undoubtedly dredge up Mama’s past. Comparisons between mother and daughter would be made. And her own child would be denounced before he or she was even born.

The vicar spread out the kneeling mats he had brought with him, then motioned for both Lucien and Serena to join him before the fireplace.

He opened his prayer book, then paused. “Ah, I do hate to be indelicate, my dear,” he directed to her, “but are you planning to wear . . . that?”

Serena looked down onto the severity of her plain black bodice. A wedding in funeral garb? In this case, it seemed appropriate. Resolutely, she nodded.

In her peripheral vision, Serena saw Lucien whip his gaze to her face. At his furious glare, she raised her chin defiantly. “I will not change. I’m in mourning.”

Lucien looked away and swore beneath his breath.

“Begin,” he snapped at the vicar.

With a puzzled shrug, the old man flipped open
The Book of Common Prayer
and read. Serena barely heard his words.

How had her life come to this? Fighting tears, she vividly recalled the brilliant spring morning she and Cyrus had exchanged vows. Innocence and hope had filled her heart, so much different from the heart-churning dread and despondency she felt now. With this marriage, she would pay for one night of searing ecstasy with the rest of her days. Lucien had seen to that.

A moment later, Lucien nudged her ribs with his elbow. Startled, she looked first to him, then the clergyman. Clearly, both expected an answer.

“I apologize,” she said. “Could you repeat the question?”

The old man smiled. “What’s your name, my dear?”

She answered, and the clergyman resumed the ritual. “Wilt thou, Serena Mary Elizabeth Boyce, have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy state of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

She tried not to notice that Lucien looked excessively masculine with his broad shoulders stretched tightly into a coat of midnight blue. Or remember the way he’d commanded her body and her pleasure with every single touch. She tore her gaze away.

Though she knew it was dangerous, Serena slid her gaze in his direction again and met his stare. Those brilliant emerald eyes mesmerized her, held her heartbeat captive, making it pound harder with his fierce, yet knowing expression.

Something in the tense set of his face called to her, something needy. He roused unwanted, excessively clear remembrances of their night together. He slid his thumb to her wrist, which began a little dance on the sensitive, blue-veined skin inside. When her pulse raced even faster under the pad of his thumb, he sent her a slow, seductive smile.

The impact of that expression trapped her breath in her lungs. It looked far too much like the one he had flashed during their greatest intimacies—as he rolled down her stockings, stretched his magnificent, naked length beside her, and eventually filled the female part of her body with the most male part of his. Flushing, Serena jerked her gaze away.

The clergyman laid the ring on the book and blessed it, then instructed Lucien to place the ring on her finger. Under the holy man’s curious eye, Lucien took her hand and did so.

As the vicar began to recite scripture, Serena looked down to discover this was no ordinary golden band. Instead, it was encrusted with small diamonds in three rows that encircled the length and width of the ring.

When he released her, she automatically touched the band, her fingertips moving across the smooth, shimmering surface in awe. She turned to him, her face silently questioning his reasons for such an elaborate symbol of their marriage. For all that she and Cyrus had been content, he had never gifted her with any but simplest of wedding rings. A part of her proclaimed Lucien’s ring worldly, a sinful display of wealth. Her other half could only acknowledge its beauty. Was it a family piece or had he bought it with her in mind?