Confessions of an Improper Bride, page 13
Happiness. Love. Contentment. With her gone, his life had become hell.
Desperately, he held on to her, kissed her with all the passion he’d bottled up so long, with all the depth of understanding that he’d finally found the woman he’d thought lost to him forever.
His Serena was alive. She’d been alive all this time. His mind wrapped around the fact and rejoiced.
You’re alive. My God, you’re alive…
He was shaking. Trembling from head to foot, except his arm, which was curved around her like iron, never wanting to let her go, never wanting to release her out of his sight where he might lose her again.
But she wrapped her fingers around his upper arms and thrust him away. He opened his eyes, surprised until he saw the look of devastation marring her beautiful face. A tear crested the lower lid of her left eye and trickled down her cheek.
He shook his head at her. Her lips had transferred an electric feeling into him, buzzing through his limbs and into his fingertips.
She stared at him wide-eyed, her fingers brushing over her lips. Was she feeling the same hum resonating through her body?
He shook his head slowly. “You’re not… I can’t let you…”
“No,” she said, her voice strong.
“Langley… I…”
She winced at the sound of her betrothed’s name.
“I can’t allow anyone to hurt him. Not again.”
She straightened at that, growing taller, stronger, more determined than ever. Her eyes snapped silver sparks at him. “I’ve no intention of hurting him. Ever.”
“But you will…”
“I won’t. He is an honorable man. I’ll do whatever is necessary to make him happy.”
“If he learns the truth…”
“There is no truth. I am who I say I am, Jonathan.”
It was the first time she’d called him by his Christian name, and the way she said it… Oh, she was Serena, all right.
She leaned forward. “You will not spread lies about my identity. You will not put Will’s happiness in jeopardy. Do you understand?”
He shook his head. Didn’t she understand that if Will learned the truth after their marriage, it would be a million times worse than him discovering it now?
“I’ve nothing more to say to you, my lord.” She made to turn away, but he caught her wrist.
“No,” he whispered. “No… Please don’t—”
She wrenched away from him, whirled around, and flung her body toward the door. He was too shaken, too overcome, to stop her. He stood there, immobile, as she fled, slamming the door behind her, leaving him alone in the kitchen.
Serena Donovan wasn’t his at all. Not anymore. She was betrothed to William Langley, and she meant to go through with marrying him.
It had started to rain. Serena sprinted through the downpour across the stable yard, kicking up mud in her wake. She entered through the back door of Aunt Geraldine’s house, only slowing when she was safely inside. She toed off her soiled shoes—she’d find a way to explain them tomorrow—and on tiptoe so she wouldn’t wake anyone, she hurried upstairs and slipped into her bedchamber. Leaning against the door, she sank to the floor and clutched her wet, muddied knees in her arms.
Oh, God, Jonathan knew her. Without a doubt, he knew her, and after he’d kissed her, his mind would not be changed.
Why had she allowed it? She’d known that kiss was coming. What devil had compelled her to tilt her head up in anticipation instead of run when she had the chance?
He’d tell Will. They were good friends, and by all accounts, Jonathan possessed no scruples. He wouldn’t hesitate to tell Will the truth. He’d ruin her, her sisters…
Furthermore, it was her fault, wasn’t it? She’d betrayed Will with Jonathan. She’d cowered from Will, yet she’d allowed Jonathan to kiss her.
She breathed fast and hard, gasping for air. Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead to her knees and tried to control her inhalations and gather her wits.
She’d deny it. It was all she could do. Aunt Geraldine truly believed she was Meg, and she’d defend her. Even if Aunt Geraldine did know the truth, Serena thought she’d stake her reputation on her surviving niece being Meg. No matter what, her aunt would never admit to keeping an impostor under her roof.
Serena hugged her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth, her determination growing. Jonathan’s reputation was in tatters among the upright members of society. Despite his elevated rank, they would not—could not—believe him. Meg’s reputation was still intact, and with Aunt Geraldine behind her, the “truth” could not be denied.
A soft creak sounded in the corridor, and Serena jerked her head up, her chest seizing in panic. Jonathan! But then she heard the soft snick of the door across from her own, and her chest tightened. Phoebe. Surely it was Phoebe.
She’d just come in, which left no question as to where she’d been, especially after Jonathan’s earlier revelation.
Serena took a few more moments to calm herself and turn her attention to the other crisis at hand. Shakily she rose from the floor and removed her cloak. With jerky movements, she hung it on a peg. Then she stripped off her muddied clothing, and clad only in her chemise, she turned back to the door.
She left her room, crossed the corridor, and knocked gently on her sister’s door. “Phoebe? It’s me.”
“Meg?”
“May I come in?”
“Uhm… just a moment.”
Serena shifted from foot to foot, her annoyance rising. How stupid Phoebe was, to be meeting with a young man at night. What on earth was she thinking?
Be gentle with her, Jonathan had said, and he was right. From past experience, Serena knew that Phoebe closed herself tight the moment someone spoke harshly to her. In fact, that was the way to get Phoebe to do exactly the opposite of what she’d been commanded to do. So as tempting as it would be to do so, Serena wouldn’t be wise to march in and order her sister to never speak to Sebastian Harper again.
Finally, Phoebe murmured, “Come in.”
Serena opened the door. Phoebe’s bedchamber was decorated in neutral tones, with ivory silk and light brown hangings and a lovely Aubusson carpet covering the wood floor. Unlike the bed in Serena’s room, Phoebe’s had no curtains; instead, four tall, carved, mahogany posts adorned its corners.
Phoebe was under the covers, the silk counterpane tucked beneath her chin. “It’s late,” she announced, blinking sleepily at Serena.
Serena glanced at the telltale water droplets scattered over the light-colored carpet and forced her scoff to emerge as a sigh. Closing the door behind her, she crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed.
“I heard you come in just now, Phoebe.”
“Come in?” Phoebe’s brow furrowed. “Oh… I was down in the kitchen. I poured myself some wine in the hope that it would help me to sleep.”
“No,” Serena said patiently, “you weren’t in the kitchen. I know because I was just in the kitchen myself, and you weren’t there.”
Phoebe was silent, but Serena recognized the mulish set in her sister’s jaw.
“I know you were with Sebastian Harper.” Serena kept her voice low and deliberately devoid of judgment.
“I don’t know—” Phoebe snapped her lips shut, as if thinking better of what she’d been about to say.
“You’re lovers,” Serena announced.
Phoebe gave her an owlish blink.
“Let’s not beat about the bush, Phoebe. I know what you’ve been doing. I know you’ve been sneaking out at night to meet with him.”
Phoebe said nothing. The only hint of the emotion boiling inside her was the tight set of her mouth.
“Phoebe.” Serena laid a hand on her sister’s shoulder. Phoebe’s blue eyes slid toward the unwelcome touch, but Serena didn’t move away. “This cannot continue. It’s not a good match for you and could destroy your hopes of making a good match at all. You can do far better than Sebastian Harper. He’s a young rake with no fortune, and it will be many years before he’s in a position to settle down and marry. Even when he does, you know Mother and Aunt Geraldine hope to match you with someone much more worthy.”
“You haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Serena.” Phoebe’s voice shot out like a whip, and Serena nearly reeled backward. Phoebe hadn’t called her by her real name since the day before they’d boarded the ship for England.
“On the contrary.” Her own voice was firm. “I know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Phoebe knew only a sketch of Serena’s disgrace. She knew nothing of the man Serena had suffered that disgrace with, nothing of how the gap in their ranks had affected it. In this case it was Phoebe who was in the superior social position in the affair, but that didn’t matter. It was all the same.
She didn’t want Phoebe to suffer through what she had. They’d been in London for only a little over a month. Surely Phoebe couldn’t have gone as far with Sebastian Harper as Serena had with Jonathan so long ago. If they broke it off now, privately, it would be so much easier, so much more bearable, than what Serena had had to endure.
“I love him.” Phoebe’s eyes shot off defiant sparks. “Nothing will change that.”
Something in Serena’s chest tightened and pulled. “Phoebe, it will never work. It can’t.”
“Why not?” Phoebe tore her gaze away from Serena to stare up at the recessed ceiling. “He loves me, too.”
“Even if he does, it’s simply impossible for there to be anything between you.” Serena remembered Jonathan, how she’d felt about him. God, she’d been even younger than Phoebe. She’d loved him with the fierce passion and power of the young and unjaded. Nothing and no one could have stopped her from loving him.
Except Jonathan himself. That moment he’d cut her shattered everything, leaving herself—and her twin—to try to glue the pieces back together on their return journey across the Atlantic.
“Why is it impossible?” Phoebe demanded.
Serena pressed the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “You’re too different from each other. Mother and Aunt Geraldine believe that with your beauty and education, you could win a gentleman with a title—”
“I don’t care about titles!”
“—and even Captain Langley is eager to help us find a suitable bridegroom for you.”
Phoebe scrambled up to a seated position, and Serena saw that she hadn’t yet removed her petticoat or stays. She hoped fervently that Harper hadn’t removed them earlier.
“Sebastian is suitable for me. No one else is. I know this in my heart, Serena, can’t you see?”
“No, I don’t see.” But she did. More than she’d ever reveal. She gazed down at her sister and said in a low voice, “You must stop calling me Serena.”
Phoebe jerked her head away.
“Don’t make me tell Aunt Geraldine about this,” Serena warned. It was an empty threat, though, because she’d never dare tell Aunt Geraldine. She remembered too well what had happened when Aunt Geraldine had found out about her affair with Jonathan, and she’d never subject Phoebe to that.
“You wouldn’t,” Phoebe breathed, an edge of fear in her voice.
“Truly,” Serena said gently, “where do you see this going with Mr. Harper?”
“He wants me. I know he does.”
Serena narrowed her eyes at her sister. “You haven’t… given yourself to him, then?”
“No.”
Serena’s shoulders slumped in relief.
“Not yet,” Phoebe said, staring at her through slitted cat’s eyes. “But I will.”
“Oh, Phoebe.” Serena groaned. “You mustn’t. Please trust me. Remember the terrible mistake I made the last time I was in London? I don’t want you to suffer like I did. Like I still am.”
“That was different,” Phoebe said. “The man you fell in love with didn’t love you back.”
Serena squeezed her eyes shut as pain sliced through her.
“I already told you,” Phoebe said impatiently, “Sebastian loves me. This is very different from what happened between you and that horrid man.”
“Has he told you that he loves you?”
“Not yet, but he will.”
“I thought…” Serena’s voice shook, but she didn’t stop it. “I thought he loved me, too. He even told me he loved me, and I believed in his love with all my heart. And then…” Her voice dwindled. She took a moment to steady herself and tried again. “He refuted me. Pretended he had never known me and had no desire to. He said to my face, before a crowd of people, that he’d never seen me before. He fooled me completely, Phoebe. All he wanted was to use my body, so he seduced me, and then when it became known we were lovers, he cast me aside. I was meaningless to him, and I’d utterly deluded myself into thinking otherwise.”
“Sebastian’s not like that!” It was almost a shout, and Serena glanced toward the door. All they needed was to have a servant listen in on this conversation and report it to their aunt. Phoebe clearly recognized this, for when she spoke again, her voice was much quieter. “He doesn’t want to take advantage of me, Seren—Meg. I know he doesn’t. I know it! He’s so sweet with me, so gentlemanly…”
“Oh, God.” Serena’s voice was hollow. Sweet, gentlemanly. Just like Jonathan had been. “Oh, please, Phoebe. Please, I beg you. Don’t be stupid.”
Her eyes welling with tears, Phoebe shook her head. “I’m not stupid. It’s the truth. I don’t know what happened to you all those years ago, but I promise you, it’s different. Believe me.” She hesitated, then leaned forward, hope shining behind the tears. “Help me. Please, help us. If we help him, then I’m sure he can prove to Aunt Geraldine, Mother, Captain Langley—everyone—that he is suitable for me. He’s so brave, so intelligent, and so strong. Really, he is. And he’ll want me. I know he will.”
Serena shook her head. “Has he mentioned marriage?”
Phoebe shifted uncomfortably. “Well… no. But there’s so much he’s concerned about right now. I think he doesn’t believe it would be proper to broach that topic until he works it out.”
Serena frowned. “What, exactly, is his trouble?”
Phoebe shook her head. “I don’t know. Gambling debt, maybe? Whatever it is, it hurts him terribly. He has such powerful misgivings. I can see it when he looks at me. He’s such a sad look in his eyes, such a look of regret.” She hugged her arms over her chest.
“Phoebe, you must never see him again.”
Phoebe’s unblinking gaze met Serena’s. “But I will, Serena. I must.”
“You are too young to understand the trouble this might cause for us, Phoebe. For our family. You’ve been too long away from London…”
Phoebe shrugged. “None of that matters.”
“Don’t be selfish.”
“I don’t care! I will see him again, whether you or Mother or Aunt Geraldine like it or not.”
“No, Phoebe. I… forbid it.” Serena winced. She’d never disciplined her siblings—in fact she was the one most likely to need the disciplining for most of her life—and she wasn’t accustomed to it. She feared she was doing a rather poor job of it.
“You cannot forbid me to do anything. You’re not Mother.”
“Mother passed your care into my hands.”
Phoebe’s lips twisted. “Hardly. She doesn’t trust you at all, and you know it. She’s passed my care into Aunt Geraldine’s hands, but I’m nineteen years old and perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”
“Neither I nor Mother nor Aunt Geraldine would agree.”
“Then you’re all stupid.”
“Phoebe!”
“I don’t care what you think. It’s true. You don’t understand.”
“So since Aunt Geraldine is responsible for you, you’re saying I must tell her about you and Mr. Harper?”
Phoebe gave her a look searing with challenge and shrugged. “Go ahead, Meg, tell everyone my secrets. And if you do so, I just might feel inclined to tell everyone yours.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. You wouldn’t do any such thing.” Still, Serena’s insides twisted.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” her sister said mulishly. “Nothing anyone says to me will make me look differently at Sebastian. I love him.”
Serena bowed her head, knowing she’d in no way be able to draw out a promise from her sister to never see Sebastian Harper again. “Please listen to me. You two aren’t suited—”
“Oh, indeed we are suited,” Phoebe snapped. “And we’ll prove it to the world, I promise you.”
Chapter Ten
Serena survived the next few days in a haze of panic, waiting for someone to come barreling in to tell her the ruse was over, that everyone knew she wasn’t Meg. She feared the worst: that she would be sent back to Antigua, exiled for good this time.
On top of the fear, guilt racked her. How could kissing Jonathan feel so right when she knew—she knew—how wrong it was?
Again and again, she went through the motions of the routine she’d established since her return to London: spending the mornings with Phoebe and Aunt Geraldine, taking her afternoon ride with Will, and engaging in various social events in the evenings. She managed to maintain a calm façade, though her insides felt tossed like a ship in a hurricane, and she couldn’t eat much without feeling sick to her stomach. She pretended to eat, and nobody—not even Phoebe—seemed to notice her consternation. Meg would have noticed instantly.
Will seemed distant. He’d had to cancel several of their rides in the park due to business obligations, but even when they were together, he hardly spoke. When he did engage in conversation with her, he mostly spoke of his infant trading business, which was suffering from growing pains. He never said so, but Serena had the distinct feeling that he wished he were captaining one of the ships instead of being trapped, helpless for the most part, in his London offices.
A week after her midnight meeting with Jonathan, Serena and Will decided to forgo their usual ride and instead strolled down a well-maintained path in Hyde Park. Serena couldn’t talk to Will regarding her worries about Jonathan; instead, she disclosed her concern over Phoebe’s liaison with Harper. When he responded by giving a stony glare to the curving path, she instantly regretted her decision to confide in him.
