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~ One ~
LORD DANIEL PENDLETON contemplated his desk with a look that spoke volumes. He held his quill poised for action, but he was heartily sick of signing his name to the stack of purchases his man of business had laid out for him to approve. He was restless and thought perhaps it was time to get out of London. Was he becoming jaded—sick of the haute ton’s hedonistic society?
He needed a diversion, and when his study door opened wide and a tall, robust woman of uncertain years and sure style stood on its threshold, he was most certainly diverted.
Nearly all their friends and family thought they looked much like one another, but other than the fact that they both had very thick black hair, he could not see it.
“Daniel, forgive me, but I simply must see you,” Lady Radburn said in tragic accents.
His lordship eyed his older sister warily. She was a handsome creature, and he’d always had a great deal of affection for her. More often than not, however, she would draw him into her family problems, and he wasn’t presently in the mood to deal with one of her numerous offspring. “What now, Phyllis?” He eyed her quizzically.
“Daniel!” she objected. “Don’t take that tone with me. I am at wit’s end.”
“Yes, if I had the misfortune of having four brats, I suppose I would be as well,” he answered on a short laugh.
She stomped her foot at him, reminding him of some of the fond memories they shared, and he softened. Apparently she saw this at once, for she reached out for his hands as he got up and came to her. “Danny, please, this is serious.”
His sister had been a widow for a little more than two years, but even in the years before her husband’s death she had applied to him whenever her children, all of them boys, drove her mad with distraction. Her husband had been a soft-hearted man and one that had been unable to discipline his sons with any success. She was fond of telling his lordship, however, that he seemed to have a knack with his nephews.
He chuckled and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. It always struck him that while his sister was certainly a tall woman, she was dwarfed beside him.
She eyed him and sniffed. He said cajolingly, “Right then, sister-mine, out with it. Who has done what?”
“If you had been attending to me last week, you would know. `Tis Frederick.”
“I was attending you. You said that he was due to return to Oxford, but he seemed to be lingering longer than he should with friends … sporting about in the New Forest.”
“Yes, and I told you that he had formed an attachment to a woman!”
He laughed. “Well, what is wrong with that? Young men do form attachments—they come and go with time.”
“Danny, she is an older woman … three years older to be precise. I understand that the friends he had gone into the New Forest with have already returned to Oxford, but he remained behind.”
“Simply tell him it is time to return to school,” her brother said disinterestedly.
“Danny, I received a letter from him this morning. He means to marry this woman.”
Lord Pendleton’s attention was arrested. “Marry her? Damn it, Phyllis, he is not yet twenty!”
“Precisely.” His sister fidgeted with her hands and then grabbed hold of his coat lapels and pulled. “What am I to do?”
“Who is this woman?” He gently removed her fingers from doing any further damage to his superfine and frowned over the problem.
“Her name is Moorely, Serena Moorely. She lives with her uncle, a squire, and their estates are of no great moment, but respectable enough.” She eyed him meaningfully. “I made inquiries, you see. However, what is more to the point is that he is too young to marry, let alone to an older woman who will use and discard him.”
“Well, honestly, three years is nothing, but as you say … he is too young to marry his first real crush.” He frowned. “Why do you think she will use and discard him?”
“Apparently, she is quite a beauty, and although she did not have a London Season, she has quite a few suitors. What does she want with F
reddy but a title and a fortune?”
This seemed plausible. “I see,” he said.
“Indeed, I had it from a dear friend who just returned from the New Forest that she is a veritable diamond, and Freddy is ever at her heels. I won’t have it, Daniel. I don’t care how beautiful she is. He must forget her and return to school.”
“If she is such a great beauty, why then is she not already wed?” his lordship asked pointedly.
“Perhaps it is because she would be penniless if it were not for her uncle. Even if she inherits his estate, it is only a modest one … nothing when compared to what she would have as Lady Radburn. I must believe she has been holding out—waiting for Freddy to come up to scratch. Hopefully, my letter telling him he must not think of marriage will prohibit him from applying for her hand … hopefully.” His sister began to wail. “My son!”
“Well, she shan’t have him, so calm yourself,” her brother said grimly.
“Then … you will do something?” she asked hopefully, sniffling.
“Indeed, I shall. This Moorely woman doesn’t know who she is dealing with,” his lordship answered thoughtfully. “But, she will. Oh, yes indeed, she will.”
~ Two ~
SERENA ENTERED HER uncle’s room quietly. The dimity curtains were shut tight against the full moon, but the flame from the huge stone fireplace gave off enough light for her to see her uncle in his large bed.
Restlessness stirred her into a frown. Lately she wasn’t as happy as she should be. She wasn’t getting any younger, and suddenly she wasn’t sure of anything.
Love seemed to be an elusive thing, perhaps never to be realized. She had suitors, many of whom had not given up on her, but she couldn’t commit. How could she, when the missing ingredient meant so much to her?
She sighed and told herself that, at the very least, she had her home with her dear uncle and the beautiful grange she adored. She had the freedom of a woman who had just turned three and twenty, and that was all a good thing.
Her uncle opened his eyes, and she smiled and went to him. He was propped up against his pillows, and he was, in fact, fully awake. She met his gaze and smiled but clicked her tongue and wagged a finger at him as she approached.
“La, but did you think it wouldn’t get back to me that you were up and about while I was out riding, walking the halls when you should have been resting?”
“Fire and brimstone!” he answered her with a fond smile. “You are not my keeper, and it was good for me. Keep up my strength you know.” He frowned and patted a place beside him. “Come sit. We need to talk.”
“Oh no, Uncle … not again?” she returned, heartily wishing he would not try to convince her that she had to make a choice and get married to one of her suitors.
“My sweet, golden-haired niece, I did not think it possible, but you grow more beautiful each day,” he said. “What I have to say is serious. You must at least listen with an open mind. Will you do that?”
“No, because it is not about you, it is about me and what you think I should have,” she answered with a rueful shake of her head.
