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His broad shoulders seemed to stiffen. His jaw-line certainly did. His eyes became blue ice, and she wished she had not allowed her temper to get the better of her. What must he think? Did she care what he thought? Why, absurdly, she did care. Frowning, she was about to recant when he opened his mouth and said, “Evidently, you are very sure of yourself, Miss Moorely.”
She actually felt a burning sensation rush through her mind, down her arm, and into her hand, which then itched to slap his face. She managed to simply put up her chin and say, “Sure of myself? How so, my lord?”
“Don’t play your innocent games with me, Miss Moorely. They may work with Freddy, but I am not such a moonling! I am long past the age where a pretty face can lure me from the truth.”
Serena’s mouth dropped, and for a moment she was stunned. This was plain speaking, wasn’t it? She writhed with fury, although a part of her acknowledged it was her fault for egging him on. As she scrambled for words, she could not help but notice a flicker of doubt both in his eyes and on his face.
She should just confess that she had been trying to get Freddy to return to school for weeks. She should not allow his lordship to think so poorly of her, but some wayward flicker of temper still had control of her, and she said, her chin well up, “I think, my lord, that I have tarried here with you too long. I must now return to my uncle.” So saying, she took her horse’s reins and, still seething, started to turn away from him.
He reached out and caught her kid-gloved wrist. “Stay … just another moment, if only to give me the chance to beg your forgiveness. My concern for my nephew’s future compromised my good sense. Please, Miss Moorely, do forgive my rudeness.”
She looked at him through narrowed eyes. Was he being sincere? Or was this just part of his plan? What did it matter? She wanted him to take Freddy off. She wanted to be done with the entire ordeal and have this … this man out of her life. Why the thought that he would soon return home made her want to cry, she could not say. He was too handsome, too tall, too charming, too arrogant … too …
She did not believe his apology, but it didn’t matter. He had behaved badly, and then so had she. Her answer was quiet as she avoided his eye. “Yes, of course. Now if you will unhand and excuse me.”
She pulled her wrist from his hold, gave him a cold look, and set her horse off at a fast-paced trot. She didn’t look back, but she wanted to. She didn’t cry, but she wanted to do that as well.
~ Seven ~
SERENA MOORELY HAD been respected and coddled by everyone she knew all her life. She had never thought of herself as spoiled and usually spent her ‘pin money’ on her uncle’s tenants, visiting them often, making a mental note of what they might need in the way of personal items and then purchasing it for them.
She enjoyed giving. She enjoyed helping, and she enjoyed the affection she was given in return. She had never before been treated as though she were nothing more than a tart out to entrap a young man the Lord of Pendleton thought far above her station.
If she had not been horseback, she would have stomped her foot at him, paced and ranted at him at great length, and finished by telling him that she had refused Freddy’s offers.
“How dare he think I would take advantage of Freddy … or anyone? How dare he?” she asked her mare. Somehow it hurt her a great deal, so much that she couldn’t for the moment see past his words. She had been attracted to his lordship from the first moment she had seen him, and this event had been cold water in the face. When her eyes had met his … when he first rode up to her, she had felt her heart begin to pound. Had she hoped he might feel the same way?
“What does he take me for? And why should he think such a thing of me? I have a lovely situation here at Moorely. I may be nearing spinster age, but it is because I chose not to marry … yet. I want for nothing, but he thinks I am trying to entrap his nephew—his nephew who is little more than a boy.” She took the stone wall on her way home and landed to canter off towards the stables. Breathlessly, she continued to give a piece of her mind about his lordship to her mare, who did not seem
overly interested.
“He is an arrogant, annoying busy-body. He is ill-mannered and judgmental. He is puffed up in his own consequence, and he deserves a lesson. I should have put him in his place. I should have told him I have been trying to get Freddy home. He made up his mind before he came. That is what he did. He has put me into a mold of his own making. What is wrong with him? He says he can’t be taken in … by a pretty face, eh? Well, as to that, I am sure he has had a surfeit of beautiful women chasing after him.” She sighed. “Brandy … he is … well, when he doesn’t open his mouth to spout off nonsense, he is quite, quite handsome.”
She went silent and then remembered how quickly he had apologized. “He means to lure me into thinking he doesn’t believe I am trying to bring Freddy up to scratch. He doesn’t know that Freddy has already proposed twice and that I have turned him down. Well, perhaps we should let him stew? What do you think, Brandy?”
Brandy apparently had been listening, as she nodded her head at that moment, and Serena was most pleased. “Precisely what I mean to do. Let him stew. Let him think what he will. Why should I care?”
Indeed, why should she care?
* * *
The Reverend Eustace Bailey’s height was enough to catch a lady’s eye. His light brown hair, though not combed in the latest London fashion, was thick and wavy and fell in attractive lines across his forehead and around his face. His countenance was chiseled in classic good looks. His eyes were light brown, cool and gave little away.
What was more to the point was that he was certain the object of his affection, Serena, was sure to find him attractive. He was sure of this from the way she always smiled when they chanced to meet.
He had a problem, however, and one that was forever hanging about. Not Frederick of Radburn, for the reverend considered the lad nothing but an errant boy. It was Warren Beverly that worried him.
Eustace stood in the central hall of the Moorely home eyeing Warren with great distaste, for they had arrived within moments of one another.
Warren snorted and offered, “Come on, ol’ boy, make the best of it. You couldn’t expect that a woman like Serena would have just one man hanging on to her petticoats, now could you?”
“You are beneath her, and I do expect she knows that,” the young reverend returned with something of a sneer.
“Well, as to that, the squire himself asked me to join the two of you tonight.”
The reverend turned openly astonished eyes to him and seemed unable to comment to this.
Warren grinned wickedly and wagged a finger. “There, there, you didn’t really think that the squire completely approves of your suit, did you? No, I am not sure he even likes you. Likes me, though.”
