Sarah Mallory - Beauty And The Brooding Lord

‘The pity of it is that such men are so attractive to a large number of our sex,’ declared Dorothea repressively.

‘Well, they would have to be,’ reasoned Serena. ‘One can only conclude that they are experts at making love to a woman.’

Henry spluttered and Dorothea said in a scandalised voice, ‘Serena, hush . You cannot say such a thing—it is most unladylike.’

Serena begged pardon and closed her lips upon any more unwise utterances. Clearly it would not do to admit that she thought she might like to marry just such a man. She had been out for two years and was still unmarried. Oh, she had had offers, but all the men Henry and Russ considered eligible were so very dull . In fact, Serena was finding life in town rather dull, too.

It had not been so bad when she had been staying with Russ, for although he was ten years her senior both he and his wife were lively and quick-witted. But Russ had taken Molly to the north to await the birth of their second child and Serena was now living in Bruton Street with Henry, who was her guardian and eldest half-brother. Having married off their own daughter very successfully two years ago, he and Dorothea were keen to find a respectable husband for Serena.

She understood perfectly the reason for this. The Russington family history was tainted by scandal and they were anxious to avoid adding to it. Good birth was considered essential, a title an advantage, but respectability was prized higher than a fortune and Serena was kept well away from any gentleman whose reputation was less than spotless, with the result that she had not yet met any man whose company she enjoyed for more than a very short time. Naturally, she wanted her husband to be handsome, but she also wanted a man of wit and intelligence. An educated man with a sense of humour, with whom she might enjoy lively conversation.

Finally, she wanted him to be skilled at pleasuring a woman. Not that she knew a great deal about what went on in the marriage bed, because young ladies were not supposed to be interested in such things. What she had learned was all very confusing. If Dorothea was to be believed, it was a wife’s duty to accept her husband’s attentions with fortitude, whereas Molly had told her that the union, when a husband and wife truly loved one another, could be beyond wonderful. It seemed that love was the answer, but none of the suitors presented to Serena had roused the faintest flicker of interest. She had therefore decided she must take a hand in her own destiny. Russ had been considered a rake before he had married his beloved Molly and Serena thought such a man would suit her very well.

Therefore, whenever she could escape Henry and Dorothea’s watchful eyes at any ball, breakfast or assembly, she sought out the rakes and gentlemen of more dubious reputation. The problem was that it was so difficult to be alone with any gentleman in town. Her flirtation with the dashing Lord Fyfield, for example, had been going well until they were spotted by one of Dorothea’s bosom friends in Green Park and Serena had to account very quickly for being alone with a gentleman. Word of the assignation had soon reached Bruton Street and Henry had lost no time in putting an end to Lord Fyfield’s attentions before he had even kissed her.

It was all most unsatisfactory and Serena’s spirit rebelled against being so confined. She wanted to marry, but not one of the milk-and-water sops that her family put forward. No, she wanted a man who could hold her interest. One who knew how to make love to a woman. Was that too much to ask? Her musing ended when a servant announced Lord Hambridge’s carriage.

‘At last,’ said Henry. ‘Come along, my dears, let us get home.’

Serena followed as he pushed his way towards the door with a word here and there to clear the path. A large, commanding figure stood in their way. Serena could only see his back but she immediately recognised Lord Quinn’s tousled head. A word from Henry and he stood aside, but there was no smile, no word of apology. His rugged face was stony and although his gaze moved over Serena, she had the impression that he was looking through her. However, she did note that those eyes, which had laughed at her so insolently in the rose garden, were a warm brown, the colour of fresh hazelnuts.

* * *

Serena decided she would strike Sir Timothy from her list of prospective husbands, but at the Downings’ party the following day, he sought her out and told her he had come with the sole intention of apologising for his absence from the Grindleshams’ rose garden. He begged for the opportunity to make it up to her and Serena decided she would at least listen to what he had in mind for her entertainment. After all, he was extremely fashionable and very handsome, with his black curls and Grecian profile, and there was no denying that he had about him a dangerously rakish air. She decided to give him another chance.

His proposal that he should escort her to Vauxhall when it opened for the Season was too tempting to resist. He painted an alluring picture of the two of them, cloaked and masked, wandering through the gardens and marvelling at the mechanical exhibits such as the famous waterfall.

The clandestine escapade appealed to Serena’s adventurous soul and she dismissed the tiny voice inside that urged caution. She must allow Sir Timothy to kiss her, just once, for how else was she to know if she would like him as a husband? And from all she had heard there was no better setting for a romantic interlude than Vauxhall, with its shadowy arbours and dark avenues hung with coloured lights.

Serena knew it was one thing to allow a hopeful young man to steal a kiss in a shadowy alcove of a private ball—which she had done once or twice—quite another to go off alone with a gentleman to Vauxhall, but Elizabeth had already told her that she and her family were going to the gardens that night and if it went horribly wrong, if she found she did not like being kissed, or Sir Timothy should become importunate, she would seek them out and beg their protection. That would be humiliating and once Henry knew about it he would probably banish her to the country for the rest of the Season, but one must be prepared to risk all in the search for a husband. All she needed now was to work out a way to slip out of her brother’s house without raising any suspicions.

* * *

Her plans came to fruition two days later, at breakfast, when the butler brought in the post and delivered a letter to Serena. Dorothea looked up.

‘What have you there—is it a love letter from one of your beaux, perhaps?’

Dorothea’s arch tone grated, for Serena knew quite well that correspondence between herself and any gentleman who was not related to her would be highly improper. However, she replied calmly and with perfect honesty, ‘It is from Mrs Downing. She invites me to join her party at Vauxhall tomorrow evening.’

‘Vauxhall?’ Henry looked up from the perusal of his own post. ‘It is not at all the place for young ladies, especially tomorrow, for it is May Day, when all sorts of common folk will be out celebrating. I have no doubt that the disreputable among them will be masked, too.’

‘Mrs Downing sees no harm in it,’ replied Serena. ‘Mr Jack Downing will be with them, too.’ She glanced at her sister-in-law, upon whom the young man’s name acted like a talisman.

‘Henry, my dear, I do not see there can be any harm in it, if she is with the Downings. And I believe Madame Saqui is performing. I confess I should very much like to see her myself. I am told that last Season she ended her display by running along the tightrope with fireworks exploding all around her.’ Dorothea picked up her coffee cup. ‘Perhaps we should go as well, I doubt we would be able to obtain a supper box at this late notice, but we might enjoy the spectacle.’