Scoundrel in the Regency Ballroom: The Rake and the Heiress / Innocent in the Sheikh's Harem

‘She lodges in the village, not here. And I’d like to know how Jasper found out about her.’

‘I never thought to ask. Wouldn’t surprise me if he bribes your servants though, sort of thing he would do. Seemed mighty put out about it in any case, on account of your birthday being so close.’

Nicholas gave a sharp crack of laughter. ‘So that’s what he’s worried about. He’s well off the mark—I have no intentions of marrying Mademoiselle Stamppe.’

‘Oh, so she’s French,’ Charles said dismissively, as if that explained everything.

‘No, English actually, although she’s lived on the Continent all her life.’

‘What’s she doing here with you, then, if she’s not your mistress?’

‘It’s a long story, Charles.’

‘You can’t fob me off so easily, Nick.’ Lord Avesbury took an enamelled box from his waistcoat pocket and flicked it open expertly with the tip of his thumb. ‘Tell me the whole tale.’Taking a delicate pinch of snuff, he sat back in his chair with a grin. ‘Anything’s preferable to Lady Cheadle’s picnic party. Go on, I’ve got all day.’

Cautiously skirting over the more personal aspects of their relationship, Nicholas recounted the events of the past few days.

Charles listened, running the full gamut of emotions from incredulous to sceptical. ‘So what’s in those papers of hers, then?’

‘Her father’s will and proof of her identity.’

‘Why would she need proof of her identity? Sounds a bit shady to me. And now I come to think about it, her name sounds familiar too. Can’t put my finger on it just at the moment, but it’ll come to me. What’s in the will?’

‘I don’t know. She promised she’d tell me, but events yesterday got in the way somewhat.’

‘Events?’ Charles laughed. ‘I see. That’s what you meant by my bad timing. Take it she’s a looker, then, your mademoiselle?’

A bell clanged in the distance. Nicholas stood up, looking towards the door. ‘You’ll see for yourself in a few moments. I fancy that’s her now.’

Serena entered the parlour a few minutes later. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon, Hughes didn’t mention that you had company.’ She had been so busy rehearsing over and over in her mind the speech she intended to deliver to Nicholas that it quite overset her composure to find he was not alone.

Nicholas came over to take her hand in his familiar clasp. ‘Serena, this is Charles, Lord Avesbury, my dearest and oldest friend. Charles, may I present Mademoiselle Serena Stamppe.’

Charles produced his quizzing glass to inspect the goddess who had appeared before him, his brows rising as he took in the perfection of Serena’s beauty. She was dressed in a printed cotton dress of Turkey red, the small puffed sleeves intricately pleated and tapering tightly down almost to her knuckles. The neckline was trimmed with freshly laundered white ruffles, matching the frilled hem of her petticoat, beneath which her feet were clad in her favourite half-boots of kid. She had discarded her pelisse and hat when she arrived, and the full glory of her golden curls, piled high on her head, competed with the morning sunshine gleaming through the window panes.

Tucking the eyeglass into the pocket of his waistcoat, Charles trod over to take Serena’s hand, bowing with great elegance. ‘Your servant, ma’am. Forgive me, Nicholas did not warn me I was about to encounter such a vision of loveliness. Your presence alone has made my journey worthwhile.’

Serena smiled politely, rather nonplussed to find herself in such obviously elevated company. ‘How do you do,’ she said, remembering her manners just in time, and dropping an elegant curtsy. She turned to Nicholas. ‘Forgive me, if I had known you had a guest I wouldn’t have intruded.’

He smiled reassuringly. ‘Charles is a very good friend, there’s no need to worry. Stay for coffee at least.’

She agreed because it would seem rude not to, sitting down in her usual chair by the fire. In the presence of Nicholas’s friend all the impropriety of their situation hit home with a vengeance. She was embarrassed and disconcerted. Frustrated, too, for she had hoped to get the difficult conversation she had resolved to have with Nicholas out of the way as soon as possible.

Charles chatted amicably about the house party he had temporarily abandoned, the latest on dits, and a wager made on a race between a frog and a chicken. By the time Nicholas recounted the story of his first meeting with Serena, she had relaxed enough to be able to laugh about it.

‘I thought he was a groom. It never occurred to me that I was watching the master of the house stripped to the waist and fighting the local blacksmith.’ She looked up teasingly at Nicholas, who was standing with his back to the fireplace. He returned the look with a smile of such warmth that she raised a hand towards him, remembered that they were not alone, and dropped it. Remembered, too, her resolve to put an end to things between them.

Charles observed the by-play with interest. Now he had met her, it didn’t surprise him that Nick had kept such a beauty hidden away. She was almost flawless, the mysterious Mademoiselle Stamppe, it would take a strong man indeed to resist her charms. It wasn’t like Nick to be so reticent about his lady loves. He had carefully refrained from discussing Serena, though it was obvious they were intimate. Their bodies gave them away, constantly moving towards one another. The way they looked at each other, too. And that smile—they might as well have kissed. Nick was in deep with his adventuress. Charles wondered if he realised just how deep.

‘I hope you won, Nick. The fight, I mean.’

‘Of course I did. Samuel landed a couple of good punches, but he’s slow.’

‘You’re getting too old for that sort of thing.’

‘I know, I know.’ Nicholas looked down at his hands, the faint scars the only reminder of the recent mill. ‘I tell myself that I won’t do it any more, but you know how it is. I can’t resist a challenge.’

‘Yes, but the next time you might lose. Give it up, Nick, you’re almost thirty. Time you settled down.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ Nicholas said curtly. He didn’t want to think about his father’s damned will.

‘You’ve got less than three months left,’ Charles continued blithely.

‘Not now, Charles.’

Watching him, Serena was confused by the lessthan-subtle change of subject. The awkwardness of her situation returned to her. She rose to go. ‘I’ll leave you two to catch up. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Avesbury.’ She curtsied, then turned to Nicholas. ‘May I speak with you tomorrow? There is a matter I am most anxious to resolve with you.’

‘You are not the only one who is anxious for resolution,’ Nicholas whispered in her ear.

Serena blushed furiously, then looked stricken. ‘I will see myself out.’ She left, resolutely closing the door before he could demand to know what was wrong.

Nicholas and Charles passed a pleasant day tooling Charles’s phaeton round the countryside, before partaking of a rustic meal at an inn some miles from High Knightswood.

‘I bumped into your sister and your stepmama at Almack’s the other day,’ Charles said, touching his whip to his horses. ‘Georgie was queening it over a pack of young pups.’

‘Brat. Did you speak to them?’

‘Of course I did, for I had already determined to come and see you. Georgie wanted to know when you were coming back to town, and said to be sure and tell you that she’s a blazing success. Melissa was—well, you know what Melissa’s like.’

Charles concentrated on overtaking a lumbering cart. ‘Dashed attractive woman, that Serena of yours,’he continued when the manoeuvre had been stylishly executed.

‘Very,’ Nicholas agreed drily. ‘What are you implying?’

‘Ain’t implying anything. I’m happy to tell you straight to your face, Nick, it’s obvious how things are between you two. The way you were looking at each other put me to the blush. Don’t tell me it’s finally happened,’ he said with a sudden guffaw of laughter. ‘Has the lovely mademoiselle given you a coup de foudre?’

‘You’re being ridiculous Charles, I’m not in love with her.’

‘Whatever you say. It’s just occurred to me, though—maybe Jasper wasn’t too far off the mark after all.’

‘What’s my cousin got to do with this?’

‘Fretting himself to death at the thought of you getting hitched.’

‘But I’ve no intention of getting married. Leastways, not until it’s absolutely necessary.’

‘Lawyers still claiming they’re making progress? Depend upon it, they’ll be saying that on the day of your birthday, it’s what you pay ’em for. Don’t believe a word of it. You need to get hitched, no two ways about it, and the perfect candidate’s fallen like a ripe peach into your hands. Beautiful, obviously more than willing—in fact, I’d say the chit’s besotted with you, although you don’t notice, of course—and, what’s more, not someone who will give you any trouble.’

‘You’re serious,’Nicholas said incredulously, staring at his friend as if he had just escaped from Bedlam.

‘Of course I am. Think about it for a moment. I don’t think you’ve quite grasped the severity of your plight. If you don’t marry, you’ll lose everything.’

‘Not everything, I’ll still have the Hall and estate.’

‘Much good they’ll do you without funds. You’ll have to give up your gaming, your expensive women, your hunters. You’ll have to rusticate here for ever, in penury.’

‘It won’t come to that.’

‘It’s coming mighty close,’ Charles said exasperatedly. ‘You can’t let Jasper inherit, Nick. What isn’t swallowed up by his debts will be tossed away on the hazard table. He’s playing very deep these days, he’d be back under the hatches in less than a year.’

‘I am aware of that. But it doesn’t alter the fact that I have no desire at all to be married.’

‘What makes you so much against it?’

‘An inherent dislike of being coerced into doing something I have no desire to do, for a start.’

‘Bloodymindedness, in other words.’

‘If you like.’ Nicholas sighed deeply. ‘Of course I don’t want Jasper to inherit.’

‘Then marry your Serena,’ Charles said stubbornly. ‘Devil take it, Nick, it’s not like you to be so dense. She’s perfect. My guess is she’s the by-blow of some gentleman, you don’t get a nose like that from common stock. She’s well mannered, well turned out—need I go on?’

‘So you’re suggesting a marriage of convenience.’

‘Convenient enough for both of you, certainly. You keep your fortune. She gets your name. You can pension her off after a respectable time—say a year.’

‘You underestimate my dear parent. There is a clause in his will that no one else, not even Jasper, has knowledge of. If my marriage is terminated by anything other than death, Jasper inherits.’ Nicholas smiled at the shocked expression on his friend’s face. ‘My father constructed a matrimonial prison for me, with a life sentence as punishment. I will find a way to break it—I must. Now let us drop the subject, once and for all.’

Charles pulled the phaeton up at the front door of the Hall, refusing the offer of a bed for the night. ‘Didn’t mean to offend you, Nick.’

‘It’s all right, Charles. I simply won’t be told how to run my life. Not by my father, not by Jasper or even, my dear fellow, by you.’

Charles grinned. ‘Truth be told, Nick, I’m pretty set on doing the deed myself. Don’t want to offend the future mother-in-law, best be on my way before they send out a search party.’

‘Give my regards to Lady Cheadle, and accept my felicitations, if I’m not being premature.’

‘Well, it’s fairly certain. I’m to have an audience with Lord Cheadle in the morning—settlements, you know. She’s a compliant little thing, Penelope, she’ll do well enough. Take a leaf from my book, Nick, before it’s too late.’ Charles pulled his caped driving coat more securely around him and tightened the reins. With a crack of the whip he set his horses trotting briskly down the path, only to pull them up almost immediately. ‘Stamppe,’ he called back, ‘knew it would come to me. It’s the family name of the Vespians. Saw the announcement in the Morning Post the other day, the fifth earl died in Paris last year. Your Serena must be some distant relative.’ With a twirl of his whip, he set off again.

Nicholas headed for the library, demanding the last few days’ copies of the Morning Post. While Hughes retrieved the newspapers from the butler’s pantry and hastily ironed them flat, Nicholas poured himself a glass of Madeira and thought about Serena.

Inevitably his mind returned to the image of her yesterday lying wanton in the hay, her hair fanned out, brighter gold than the supporting bales, her creamy flesh flushed. He couldn’t wait to plunge into the hot wet core of her, to feel her tight around him, to… Damnation! He was fantasising like a school boy. If he continued in this vein he was in for another night like the last one, tortured by adolescent fantasies and frustrated with longing.

Looking at the clock on the mantel, he realised that it was almost dinner time. Tomorrow he would make sure their love-making was not interrupted. Tonight he would have to content himself with trying not to think about what that would entail.

Hughes arrived with the stack of newspapers and the day’s post. There was a letter from Frances Eldon at last. Nicholas opened it with a smile of anticipation. As he quickly scanned the neatly crossed pages his smile faded. By the time he had finished, his face was a mask of fury.

He was waiting for her on the front steps of the Hall the next morning. The day was dry but cold, making Serena glad of the warm woollen cloak she wore over her dress of pale blue muslin. At the sight of Nicholas’s tall figure her heart did a little flip of excitement. It was all very well to tell herself that they must never share so much as another kiss. Faced with the man himself, her will power weakened.

You are not the only one anxious for a resolution. His parting words to her yesterday. Excitement turned to anxiety, which dissolved into dread when she saw his face. No sign of his usual careless smile, his mouth was drawn into a tight line and he was frowning, his eyes a cold slate grey that seemed to glitter like polished granite. ‘Is there something wrong, Nicholas?’

She faltered to a halt on the step below him. He looked down, his eyes travelling slowly over her, from her face, sweeping down her neck, the length of her body, with contempt. An icy coldness clutched at her heart. ‘Nicholas?’

‘Come in. There’s coffee waiting,’ he said curtly, preceding her into the house, giving her no choice but to follow him, hastily abandoning her bonnet and cloak to Hughes’s care.

They sat opposite each other in front of the fire as was their custom. The clock ticked on the mantel. Outside, the sun danced in and out of scudding clouds, slanting shadows of light and dark onto the polished wooden floors. Everything familiar, in its usual place, yet somehow nothing felt the same.

Nicholas’s brows met, giving him the look of a brooding devil. The long fingers of his right hand drummed a slow beat on the arm of his chair. He sat with careless grace, his long legs, clad today in tightly fitting pantaloons and polished Hessians, sprawled out in front of him, but there was no mistaking the tension in him. He was coiled. Ready to spring. And Serena felt horribly like his prey.

His mood alarmed her, all the more because he had himself so tightly under control. She carefully replaced her half-full coffee cup on the tray lest her shaking hands betray her. Nicholas had not touched his. The clock ticked.

‘Alone at last, Serena,’ Nicholas said, looking positively predatory.

She managed an uncertain smile.

‘I’ve given Hughes instructions to deny me to any callers. What with Farmer Jeffries and then Charles, I think we’ve had too many interruptions lately, don’t you?’

Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips. ‘Nicholas, I…’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Nervous, Serena? There’s no need to be. Surely our experience in the barn was sufficient to prove that the conclusion to our little idyll here will be pleasurable—on your part, at least. We have yet to determine how I will like it.’

Colour flooded her face and drained just as quickly, leaving her ashen. ‘Why are you being so beastly?’

‘You’re tense. We should do something to help you relax. A game of piquet, perhaps? Or what about dice? I’m sure Papa taught you how to load the bones as well as how to fix the cards.’

‘I don’t cheat.’

‘Oh, but you do, Serena. You have been cheating me since the day you turned up on my doorstep.’ He stood, the tension in him blatantly obvious now, in the way he clenched his fists by his side, the way he held his shoulders rigid. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a letter. ‘I had this from Frances Eldon, my man of business, yesterday. Combined with your uncle’s announcement in the Morning Post and your own revelations, it has helped to make a lot of things much clearer.’

She realised at once that it was too late. If he knew from someone else what she should have told him from the first, he would never forgive her. ‘You had your man of business investigate me,’ she said flatly.

Nicholas coloured. ‘Since you were so sparing with the truth I had no option.’

She stood up shakily. ‘Don’t say you had no option, it’s not true. You could have waited. I came today to tell you, but I see there is no need, your Mr Eldon has saved me the trouble of a confession.’

‘You lied to me.’

‘You did not trust me,’ she flung at him, her temper flaring. ‘And I did not lie to you, Nicholas. I may have misled you, but you were perfectly happy for me to do so.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You claim you were suspicious of me from the start. Suspicious enough to have someone investigate me. But you never asked me. You never said, Serena, I’m not sure about this story of yours.’

‘Would you have told me?’

‘Yes! No! Probably. It doesn’t matter, you didn’t ask because you didn’t want to know. And then when I found my papers, the same thing. I would have told you straight away, even before I had read them, if you had pressed me. But you did not. Instead you suggested a day’s grace.’

‘Which you were more than happy to agree to.’

She nodded and took a calming breath. ‘Yes. Yes, I was. It was wrong, I knew it was wrong, but I agreed because I wanted…’ She blushed, but forced herself to continue. ‘Because I wanted what happened in the barn. Now I know it was a terrible mistake.’

Her admission threw him. He reached for her, but she stepped back. ‘No, Nicholas. It’s too late now. I must go. I should have gone two days ago.’

‘Sit down, Serena,’ Nicholas said coldly, ‘you don’t get off so lightly. I want to hear it for myself. All of it.’

She would rather do almost anything, but she owed it to him, and he was mostly in the right, so she sat down, stiff-backed, hands clutched tight together in a bitter parody of their first meeting. Nicholas sat down too, his gaze unwavering. That look of his that made her feel he could read her mind.

‘Well, as you have obviously surmised, Papa made his money from gambling. Gaming salons, but I assure you he was neither a cheat nor a sharp.’As she sketched a picture of their life, she watched Nicholas watching her, but his face gave away nothing. ‘We followed the wars, for where there are wars there are officers and hangers-on and plenty of money,’ she continued. ‘Most recently we settled in Paris.’

‘And you, did you preside over the tables?’

Despite the circumstances, the very idea forced a smile from her. ‘Hardly. I’ve told you several times, Papa was extremely protective. He forbade me from entering the salons when they were open. I was his hostess at private parties—when he played for pleasure with his particular friends, all older men, respectable men. I played too, sometimes. And of course, I practised with him.’

‘A fine education for you!’ He was unaccountably angry on her behalf. ‘What about the dangers you must have been exposed to, the sights you must have seen, the type of men you must have met?’

‘It wasn’t like that. You don’t understand.’

‘No, I don’t. What did he intend for you, your sainted papa? You’re—what, twenty-two, twentythree? Did he not wish to see you settled?’

‘I’m almost five and twenty. Of course he wanted to see me settled, that’s why I am here. He would have brought me himself if it was not for the war.’

‘That is complete nonsense, he could have returned any time if he’d really wanted to. Your father sounds to me like a selfish bastard.’

Serena was silent. Papa had explained, but even then, through the grief of knowing he had only a few hours left to live, his excuses had sounded weak to her ears. It had been more than thirty years, after all. ‘You’re right, he was a little set in his ways. I suppose the truth was that he had grown used to his life and did not wish to be constrained by his responsibilities in England.’

‘His life as the Earl of Vespian.’

‘Yes, my father was Lord Vespian.’

‘Which makes you the Lady Serena—assuming, of course, that a marriage actually took place between your parents. Was there one?’

She cast him a wounded look. ‘Of course there was.’

He was unrepentant. ‘I’m only saying what everyone else will ask. Charles did say it was curious, your need to prove your identity.’

‘You told Charles all this? You had no right.’

‘Charles won’t say anything. He liked you.’

‘Well, I’m relieved to know that someone does.’ Serena reached for her reticule and pulled out a small leather pouch, which she handed to him. ‘I thought my father was being excessively cautious, but he insisted I should have this as well as the legal documents.’

Nicholas undid the ties. Inside was a ring, intricately worked in gold, a strange antique setting wrought around a large black pearl. Frowning, he traced a long finger over the pattern. ‘An heirloom, I presume,’ he said, returning the ring to its pouch and handing it back to Serena.

‘Another of his deathbed bequests,’ she said with intentional irony. ‘I’ve to give it to my uncle. It seems it is always worn by the heir to the earldom.’

Nicholas strode over to the window. In the brief time they had spent together the narcissi had started to fade, the cherry blossom to fall. In the distance he could see a horse and plough readying a field for planting. He had been beguiled, even Charles had spotted it. Locked away from the world, he had been careless of everything save the overwhelming attraction between them, the shared laughter, the gravitation of their bodies towards each other. He had been happy. And no matter what she claimed, he had also been duped.

A gust of rage seized him. ‘Tell me, Lady Serena,’ he said, turning back from the window to the beautiful deceiver sitting in front of the fire, ‘just why you felt it so necessary to keep your real identity a secret.’

‘You know why.’

‘I’d like to hear it from you.’

Her knuckles where white, so tightly was she gripping them. ‘Very well, if I must. I did not tell you because I knew that while you would be happy enough to dally with Mademoiselle Cachet of no particular place and no particular family, you would run a mile from Lady Serena Stamppe. I needed to find my father’s papers. You only helped because you were bored and you thought I was fair game. You would not have thought Lady Serena fair game, would you, Nicholas? And I would not then have found my father’s will. I don’t know why you’re making me say this—no doubt you wish to humiliate me. No doubt I deserve it—but do not paint yourself as whiter than white in this tawdry episode.’

‘I did not think you fair game, as you call it. How dare you!’

‘You hardly treated me as you would a respectable female.’

‘You hardly gave me grounds to do so. The first time I set eyes on you, you kissed me while I was half-naked in front of a crowd of spectators.’