Confessions of an Improper Bride, page 11
“I miss you, too.” He shook his head and slipped his hand into hers. “Just sit with me for a while, Phoebe. But I’ll leave early and you must promise me to get some sleep.” He brushed a finger over the tender skin beneath her eye. “I hate to see those dark shadows.”
“I promise,” she said gravely. And she leaned into his kiss.
Chapter Eight
A few nights later, Serena stood before the mirror, her knees locked, her hands clasped over the back of a chair. Flannery stood behind her, tugging on the laces of her long stays. She held her breath and studied the evening gown that hung from the door of the armoire.
A primrose band covered with tiny embossed pink rosebuds garnished the sleeves and dotted the band around the hem of the pearly silk skirts. The little flowers shimmered in the failing sunlight.
Before they’d left Antigua, Mother had sold most of their furniture so she could order dresses straight from Paris for Phoebe and Serena for the Season. Nothing but the best was sufficient. Mother was the daughter of an earl, and though she’d married lower than her station, she wouldn’t advertise the fact that they hardly had enough money to keep food on the table, much less purchase the latest fashions from Paris. She was far too proud.
The gown was the richest thing Serena owned, and she was thankful to have it. She’d been commanded to wear it wisely and guard it with her life. Mother had promised that she’d come to England and whip her to ribbons if she stained it.
Serena couldn’t really blame her. Mother had sacrificed so much for this summer, and if everything went as planned, all her hopes for her daughters would soon fall into place.
“Just a little tighter, miss, and we’ll get you into that lovely gown,” Flannery said cheerfully. She tugged, yanked, and tightened until the stays squeezed Serena from breast to belly button. Goodness. Perhaps she’d been eating too many of those melt-in-the-mouth French rolls.
As the maid finished tying the knot at the base of Serena’s spine, the door opened to reveal Phoebe in her special evening dress, a peach silk with a crepe overdress. Not as expensive as Serena’s, but far dearer than any of their other dresses.
“Oh, Phoebe, you look lovely!” she said as Phoebe preened.
Serena straightened for Flannery to button her into her dress, eyeing her sister closely in the mirror. Phoebe had been complaining of headaches and exhaustion for the past fortnight, and Serena had been worried about her. She’d even written to Mother about her concerns about her sister’s health. “You’re looking less tired.”
With a mumbled acknowledgment, Phoebe turned away to fetch Serena’s bandeau from the dressing table, and with the help of the maid, she fit it on Serena’s head. As Flannery worked to shape the curling strands of hair that escaped from the band of the headdress, Phoebe plopped down onto Serena’s bed.
“Must we go?” She gave a long-suffering sigh. “You know how I detest everything about Shakespeare.”
Serena shrugged. “It wasn’t really a choice.”
Aunt Geraldine had ordered them to join her at the theater this evening. They were to attend a rendition of Othello at the King’s Theatre. Unlike her sister, Serena enjoyed Shakespeare, but tonight it seemed rather daunting. Mostly because she’d have to guard her dress for four long hours, making sure nothing dripped on it, she didn’t sweat too much, no one stepped on the train…
A sharp knock sounded at the door. It was Aunt Geraldine’s housekeeper, Mrs. Waite.
“Lady Alcott wishes to express her concern that you shall be late.” Mrs. Waite paused pointedly. “Lady Alcott despises being tardy to any event.”
“Even to an hours-long rendition of a play she’s no doubt seen dozens of times?” Phoebe shot back, but Serena held up her hand.
“Hush, Phoebe.” She turned to Mrs. Waite. “We’ll be down in three minutes.”
Mrs. Waite nodded sharply. “Very well. I’ll have the carriage brought round.”
Serena turned to her sister when the older woman left. “Phoebe, you must learn to be more polite.”
“Oh, that woman is a virago. Why should I be polite to her?”
Taking a deep breath, Serena adjusted her curls in the mirror, then stood, thanked Flannery, and led Phoebe downstairs. The two young women retrieved their reticules and their shawls and joined Aunt Geraldine, who awaited them in the carriage.
“You are late,” their aunt announced when the carriage door clicked shut.
“No, Aunt,” Serena corrected politely, sitting on the rear-facing seat across from her aunt. “We’ve an hour before the play begins. And it isn’t far from here, is it?”
The tips of Aunt Geraldine’s lips curled downward. “I enjoy seeing the opening production, you know.”
Well, they’d certainly miss most of that. Serena closed her mouth and didn’t speak for the remainder of the trip as Phoebe fidgeted next to her. Since infancy, Phoebe had never been able to sit still.
They met with some traffic—a fruit cart had overturned in Piccadilly, and by the time they arrived, they had only a quarter of an hour until Othello started. A scowling Aunt Geraldine stomped up to her box, but once they were inside, the surroundings distracted Serena from her aunt’s poor temper.
The inside of the King’s Theatre was blazing with lights. Far below, people crowded the cheap seats, laughing and talking, occasionally pointing up to some personage in the boxes. Aunt Geraldine’s box was in the top row center, giving Serena a good view of the aristocratic patrons in the other boxes. Some boxes were empty; others were crowded with chattering people, their jewels and gold embroidery glittering in the gaslight. Serena recognized Lady Montgomery seated in one of them, laughing as she conversed in animated tones with a silver-haired gentleman.
Will arrived just before the performance began. He hardly had enough time to kiss Serena’s hand and bow to her aunt and Phoebe before the actors came onto the stage, and he settled into a chair behind them.
The novelty of being at the theater nearly made Serena forget about Will’s gaze boring into her back, but it couldn’t stop her from remembering the last time—the only other time—she’d been to the theater.
It was the first time she’d ever laid eyes on Jonathan. She’d sat in this very box, which offered an excellent view of him and his family sitting in a lushly appointed box a row higher up and directly opposite Serena and her family.
He’d stared at Serena throughout the performance, and she hadn’t been able to resist staring right back until her aunt had slapped her hand and admonished her for being vulgar.
Now Will stared at her. She could not see his eyes, but she felt them warming her back. Occasionally she heard him speaking in low tones to gentlemen friends of his, who had been wandering in and out of the box since the start of the performance.
She watched Othello, and though she could recite some parts of the play along with the players, she sat quiet and still, as Meg would have. Occasionally, she reached to touch Phoebe’s knee to settle her sister’s incessant squirming.
When intermission came, Aunt Geraldine nudged her and whispered, “Prepare yourself, girl. Here they come.”
This, Serena knew, was her true reintroduction to society. Far from those generous people who’d been invited to Will’s soiree, tonight there would be gossipmongers looking for some “similarity” between her and the disgraced, deceased Serena, searching for something to criticize.
Suddenly, the box crowded with people, some of whom looked vaguely familiar to Serena, all eyeing her with blatant curiosity. Phoebe disappeared within a group of girls, adding to Serena’s discomfort, but Aunt Geraldine moved to one side of her and Will to the other, and together the three of them faced the crowd head-on.
“And who is this lovely creature?” one elderly man asked, nostril hairs quivering as he eyed Serena up and down through a quizzing glass.
Aunt Geraldine and Will made the proper introductions repeatedly until their throats must have scraped raw. Serena fidgeted in her satin slippers—Mother must have sent the shoemaker the wrong sizing for these, for they were too small and pinched her toes. She smiled and curtsied through the pain, however, and did her best to offer pleasant tidbits of conversation.
Until the crowd parted for an elderly woman.
That harsh face, with its beak nose and angry eyes, had etched itself into Serena’s mind long ago. She gripped the back of the chair closest to her and watched in mounting horror as the Dowager Duchess of Clayworth approached.
She dragged in a breath, as deep as her restrictive clothing would allow, and willed herself to remain calm. She’d never fainted in her life, but the combination of the tight lacing of her stays and the appearance of the woman who’d brought her life to a grinding halt was enough to bring her perilously close.
Gazing at Serena through eyes the color of storm clouds, the dowager pursed her lips until they were barely visible. She flung her hand back imperiously. “My spectacles, Rae Ann.”
The duchess’s companion, a young and pretty woman with vibrant red hair and green eyes that currently looked rather alarmed, handed her a pair of spectacles. The duchess perched them on her nose and inspected Serena.
Will stood beside her, tall and straight as a pillar, and she was relieved. If she fainted, he might be able to catch her.
Aunt Geraldine curtsied with a pleasant, “Good evening, Your Grace,” and began to introduce Serena as Meg, but the dowager raised her hand.
“I already know this lady.” Her emphasis on “lady” informed everyone present she did not think the term appropriate for Serena. “You see, Rae Ann. It is her. Just as I told you.”
The dowager’s companion stared at Serena with wide green eyes.
Serena dropped her gaze, curtsied, and managed a few steady words. “How lovely to see you again, Your Grace. You are looking very well.” She smiled at the old woman’s companion. “It is very nice to meet you, Miss…?”
“Miss Parker,” the young woman said with a smile. “It’s nice—”
But the duchess cut her off before she could say another word. “Explain to me why you are standing in a box at the theater. You’re dead. You’ve been dead for years.”
“Miss Donovan looks well enough to me, Your Grace,” Will said smoothly. “Perhaps you mistake her for someone else?” His expression was perfectly flat—devoid of expression.
“Oh, no, Your Grace,” Aunt Geraldine reassured the old woman. “That was her twin sister, Serena, who suffered the unfortunate accident. This is the younger of the twins, Margaret.”
“Indeed it is not. I remember Margaret very well, and this is not Margaret.”
The world began to undulate all around Serena. Good Lord, she couldn’t faint. This was madness! How could it be that a single, rheumy-eyed woman was the one to see through her deception?
Miss Parker whispered in the duchess’s ear just loudly enough for Serena to hear. “It has been a long night, Your Grace. Perhaps we ought to return home?”
Home to the dowager duchess was a grand house near Kensington Palace, where Serena and Jonathan had last made love. When the duchess had come upon them, she had screeched loudly enough to summon a crowd of people. Serena jumped off Jonathan, he leaped to the wall, his hands frantically working the buttons on his trousers. It was obvious to everyone what they had been doing. Serena’s hair had fallen halfway out of its chignon. Her gown was crumpled, her hat askew. She remembered the looks of shock on the people’s faces, and in the center stood the Dowager Duchess of Clayworth, her wiry frame shaking from top to bottom with fury.
Serena’s face was so hot it must be purple. She hardly caught the tail end of what the old woman was saying.
“—not going home. I shall watch this spectacle to the end, despite all the vile, vulgar people in attendance here tonight.”
Finally, the signal sounded the warning for the end of intermission, and a flurry of activity ensued as people returned to their seats. As Miss Parker tugged her away, the dowager duchess threw a scowl over her shoulder. “You have no place in the ton, young woman. I shall see you are shunned by every drawing room in London!”
“She has lost her wits,” Aunt Geraldine murmured as she led Serena back to her chair. She shook her head mournfully. “It is a wonder the family still allows her to show her face in Town.”
Serena sat quietly, her fists clamped in her lap, watching people wander back toward their seats. A few moments later, Will came up behind her. “Are you all right, Meg? Can I fetch you something? A glass of claret, perhaps?” he asked.
She smiled at him. His face still had that void, flat expression. “Oh, no, Will. Thank you.”
He reached down, took her hand, and squeezed it. “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “But they need me at the offices.”
“At this hour? Oh, Will.”
“I’m so sorry. But it’s another emergency and Rogers is here for me.” He glanced at the door, where one of his managers hesitated at the threshold.
“All right,” she murmured. “Will I see you tomorrow for our afternoon ride?”
He kissed the back of her hand. “Of course.”
He took his leave as the actors walked onstage to open the scene. Serena clenched her hands to stop them from shaking. Pinpricks of sweat beaded her forehead.
Feeling hot and out of sorts, she glanced around for Phoebe. Her sister was nowhere to be seen. Panic tightened her throat, and she surged to her feet.
“Where’s Phoebe?”
“Well…” Aunt Geraldine looked around, frowning as if she’d forgotten all about Serena’s younger sister. “I don’t know.”
“I must go look for her.”
“No, you mustn’t—”
But Serena had already lurched to the door and opened it. She closed it against her aunt’s protestations and paused, breathing heavily, looking up and down the corridor. She wished she could rip off her stays and inhale deeply. Why had Flannery pulled the strings so tight tonight?
When she finally caught her breath, she strode down the corridors and checked all the retiring rooms for Phoebe. The repercussions of being seen alone and without a chaperone did not scare Serena tonight. What could society do? Shun her? Eliminate the opportunity for her to find a suitable mate? She was engaged to a respectable man. Will would not fault her for wanting to find her sister.
She descended the stairs and slipped through the crowded lobby until she saw the doors that led outside. She rushed toward one of them, thrust it open, and burst into the street. Cool night air seeped through her gown and she shivered, but she took great, gulping breaths of the clean night air, looking to the right and left for any sign of her sister. Carriages rattled down the street in rapid succession, and one that looked like Will’s turned the corner, heading in the direction of his offices.
The crowd was thinner out here, but there was no sign of Phoebe.
“Meg?” Jonathan’s voice swept over her like a bath of soft, warm water. “You’re shaking. Here, take my coat.”
Before she could protest, he’d laid his coat over her shoulders. Turning, she looked up at him. Those deep eyes, cobalt blue, stared back at her.
In recognition. Serena, they said. But he’d called her Meg.
She shuddered harder, remembering what Aunt Geraldine had told her about him. Remembering the gossip Phoebe had told her, too.
“What is it?” he asked her, his voice gentle, concerned.
There was so much to say to him, she was overwhelmed by it all. So she went directly to the matter at hand. She looked beyond his shoulder at the last of the people filtering into the theater. “I’m looking for Phoebe. She vanished at the beginning of the intermission and I haven’t seen her since.”
“I saw her a few minutes ago.” After a heavy pause, he added, “She was with Sebastian Harper.”
“He came tonight? I didn’t know that.”
“Neither did I,” Jonathan said dryly. He opened his mouth to say something more, then seemed to think better of it. “They were descending the steps from the gallery together when I saw them.”
Jonathan held out his arm for her, and she stared at it for a long moment before he dropped it. She glanced at his face to see the slightest tinge of pink staining his cheeks.
“I’ll help you find her,” he said quietly.
In silence, they explored the area fronting the theater, then reentered. The crowd had thinned, so it took only a few minutes to explore the inside arcade and galleries. Serena grew more concerned by the second.
“Where could she be?” Serena muttered, ignoring yet another narrow-eyed glance by one of the patrons still wandering the halls. She didn’t care what they thought of her walking with the dissolute earl. She was far more concerned about finding Phoebe and Mr. Harper, and no one but Jonathan seemed willing to offer help.
Serena bit her lower lip, trying not to mince her steps. Later, she would burn these slippers.
“They aren’t in the gallery,” Jonathan murmured, “nor in the arcade, nor outside. They…”
She looked sharply at him. “What?”
“Well, they could be hiding from prying eyes somewhere. Or…”
She narrowed her eyes. “Or?”
“Or they might have gone somewhere else.”
Serena huffed. “Certainly not.”
As impetuous as Phoebe was, she wouldn’t dare leave the theater with anyone besides Serena and their aunt.
Jonathan slowed his step, then stopped fully. They stood in the long upstairs arcade near the staircase leading to the boxes. He turned to her, the expression on his face hidden in shadows. “Perhaps she has slipped past you, then. Returned to your aunt’s box.”
“I hope so. I’ll check there.” She shrugged out of his coat and handed it to him. “I’m warm enough now. Thank you.”
Turning away, she began to walk, but he caught her arm and pulled her close enough that she breathed him in, his nearness sparking a shower of memories. Tumbling, rolling in the sun, the grass, him above her, laughing down at her…
“There’s something I must speak with you about,” he said in a low voice. “I have some essential information for you.”
