“Do for me?” Serenity asked nervously.
“Yes. I’m speaking of your... involvement with my son, of course. You see, he’s grown tired of keeping company with you. He’ll begin courting the girl he’s to marry soon. He’s worried that you will cause problems for him, so I’ve come on his behalf to take care of the unpleasant situation before he returns from London.”
Unpleasant situation?
Serenity thought of the last time they’d spoken, how he’d come so frustrated with her. What a fool she’d been. She’d known he’d never marry her, but for him to not even have the courage to break things off in person, to send his mother to do it for him, killed something deep inside her.
“He could have simply told me himself and not bothered you with a trip all the way out to the country. I will be out of the cottage by the end of the day,” Serenity said, her chin lifting, determined to be strong, even though she had no idea where she would go. She wasn’t someone who needed to betaken care of. She’d given her whole heart and soul to Luke, but if he didn’t love her back, she certainly didn’t want his charity.
“You misunderstand me,” the countess said quietly, the steel in her gaze belying her soft voice. “I cannot allow a woman who is carrying the earl’s child to simply walk away. We will provide a place for you, a stipend. We must ensure the child is taken care of. Miss Cross will go with you if you wish it.” As though the matter was settled, she got to her feet, shaking her head. “I pity you, child. You had to have known this wouldn’t end well for you.”
Yes, she’d known. She’d never doubted it, not really. She’d tried to have faith in Luke, to trust him as he’d asked, but this relationship had been doomed from the start. He was simply too far above her. She should never have tried to make such a leap.
Serenity merely bowed her head, refusing to give the woman whatever it was she was looking for.
“Well,” the countess said with a sniff. “I will have another carriage come for you this evening. Make sure you are packed and ready to go.”
The need to know where she was being sent bubbled inside of Serenity, but she didn’t ask. She supposed it didn’t matter. This cottage was the only home she’d ever known. She had no one, except for the child within her, so she didn’t care where she went, as long as she had a roof over her head.
“I will be ready,” she said in resignation. She held her composure until the woman climbed into her coach. Then Serenity ran upstairs to her room and completely broke down, mourning her lost love and dreams.
Chapter Ten
May 1896
Luke took his time eating breakfast, purposely delaying the inevitable conversation with his mother. Though she lived with him, the house was huge, and she never came down for meals unless they had guests. Instead, she chose to spend most of her time in her luxurious bedroom, in the gold sitting room where she received her friends, or out on social calls. In fact, he’d gone whole weeks without ever crossing paths with her, which was exactly the way they both preferred it.
His head pounded uncomfortably from the amount of bourbon he’d imbibed last night, so he drank another cup of tea, hoping it would pass. He needed all his wits about him for this.
At last, he could put it off no longer, and he went in search of her.
As expected, he found her in the gold sitting room, going through a stack of invitations. She glanced up as he entered the room and gave him a charming smile. Her beauty could be very deceiving and she was still youthful looking, with blond hair and sky blue eyes.
“How are you this morning, darling?” she asked lightly. “Have you found Allison?” Her lack of concern about her seventeen-year-old daughter’s whereabouts immediately set his nerves even further on edge. Though Roger’s note had rattled her a bit, he knew she didn’t truly believe her beloved stepson would ever hurt the girl. In her eyes, Roger could do no wrong.
He’d never understood why she’d showered Roger with affection while withholding it from her true sons. Morgan had once said that he thought they reminded her too much of their father, that she’d loved him passionately, and her heart had died with him. She’d made no secret of the fact that she blamed Adrian for her husband’s death. She’d even told Adrian that she wished he’d died instead of their father. What kind of woman would say such a thing to her own child? Her unnatural hatred of her own flesh and blood had made this conversation a long time coming.
