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?” she asked lightly. “Have you found Allison?” Her lack of concern about her fifteen-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.
“No, Mother,” he said, going to stand by the window. He stared down at the street below, worry for his little sister still churning in his own gut. “He’s taken her to France. I’m going to have to hire some private detectives to retrieve her and bring her home.”
“France?” She sounded shocked, and he was glad to have finally proven how serious the matter was. “He’s taken her out of the country?”
He ignored her question. He wasn’t here to speak of Allison. “I have something to ask you, Mother. About something that happened a long time ago. And I require complete honesty if we are going to continue to have any sort of relationship at all.”
He glanced over his shoulder and saw her lift her teacup to her lips, obviously flustered and stalling for time. “Whatever are you talking about, darling?” she asked after taking a delicate, precise sip.
“Nearly eight years ago, I spent the summer in the country rebuilding Hawkesmere House. Do you remember?”
She swallowed nervously and put her cup aside. “That was a very long time ago. How can you expect me to remember anything that happened back then? I can barely remember what I had for dinner last night.”
He scoffed at that. She was sharp as a tack, and they both knew it. “I’m speaking of Serenity Pratt, Mother.”
“Who?” She gave him a rather convincing blank stare, as though she’d never heard the name before.
“The woman I was in love with. The woman I planned to make my wife.” Though he’d never actually said that word before in relationship to Serenity, he knew as soon as he did that it was right. If Serenity had not disappeared, he would have married her. His mother had somehow known that, which was why she’d done everything in her power to drive them apart.
Having her scarred youngest son marry beneath him had been bad enough in her eyes, but she’d never given a damn about Adrian. However, he knew under no circumstances would she have allowed that from the heir.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted, but she couldn’t hold his intense gaze, and her cheek began to twitch.
“How did you know?” he mused, narrowing his eyes. “Did you have Miss Cross spying on us?”
“I couldn’t allow you to be drawn into that little hussy’s trap,” she snapped, abandoning all pretense. “A gamekeeper’s daughter, Lucien? I am appalled.”
“As am I,” he told her. “You snatched her away from me, Mother. Took the one woman who made me happy. And what else did you take? Please tell me you didn’t take anything else!”
She flinched and pushed to her feet, striding for the door. “I don’t have to listen to this nonsense.”
He ran to cut her off, putting himself in her path. “Yes, you do. I am the earl, and you are beholden to me for the very food you put in your mouth. Answer my question, or I swear to God, I will turn you out on the streets.”
She glared at him, her eyes snapping with outrage. Her second husband had left everything to Roger, other than a small cottage in the country. And there was nothing she’d hate more than to be sent away from London. For once in his life, he had the upper hand where she was concerned.
“She was going to birth your bastard!” she admitted at last. “You would have been paying for that child in one way or another for the rest of your life. You should thank me!”
All the air left his lungs in a whoosh as his worst fear was realized. He had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from wrapping them around her neck. “What did you do to my child?”
“Roger saw to it,” she said, with a flick of her hand. “We told the chit the baby died, and he made sure that none of us would ever have to deal with the child again.”
“You told her the baby died?” He thought of the pain and sadness in Serenity’s eyes, and it slayed him. He couldn’t imagine what she’d suffered, having been left to grieve their baby all on her own.
“It was a kindness,” she said, and her complete disregard for her own grandchild shocked him to the core. “If she’d raised it, the child would always have thought itself better than it was. Roger made sure it knows its place in life.”
“It?” he questioned hoarsely. “Don’t you even know if the child was a boy or a girl?
She sniffed. “I didn’t ask. I hardly think that it matters.”
Her cavalier dismissal of the matter turned his heart to stone and killed whatever love he’d still had for her. Knowing he’d get nothing more from her and that Roger probably hadn’t bothered to tell her what he’d done with the child anyway, he stood aside. “Someone will come up shortly and help you pack. You’re leaving London. You can stay at your dower house in the country until I’ve made up my mind what to do with you. For now, I can’t bear to look at you.”
“You can’t do that,” she said, aghast and suddenly concerned by the thought of not being able to continue living in the style to which she’d become accustomed.
He gave her a bitter smile. “Yes, I can.”
Her palpable anger crackled between them, and her eyes flashed with avarice and calculation. She must have thought better of putting any of her plans into motion at the moment, though, because she gave a furious huff and turned away.
Once she’d left the room, he strode to her fine china set and threw it against the wall, feeling only marginally satisfied when it shattered into a thousand pieces. He scrubbed his hand over his face, fury and despair battling within him.
Serenity had been pregnant when his mother had taken her from him. She’d gone through childbirth by herself, then had to suffer alone through the grief of thinking that their child had died. And their baby… somewhere he had a seven-year-old child, living with strangers, in who knew what kind of conditions.
The guilt nearly overwhelmed him. He’d known the consequences Serenity could face because of his desire for her, but he’d always assumed he’d be there to take care of her if such a thing happened. In truth, he’d been so obsessed with her, he hadn’t given the future much thought, so hellbent on having that beautiful summer with her.
He should have looked harder for her. He should have torn the world apart until he’d found her. No wonder she’d left him in Dover. How could he ever expect her to want to be with someone who had failed her so completely?
* * *
Serenity made the bed in the austere little room Gemma had provided her, feeling empty and numb. She’d cried herself to sleep last night but had woken this morning determined not to ever cry over Luke ever again. Her life had changed once again, and she must make the best of it.
Squaring her shoulders, she traipsed downstairs for breakfast.
“You slept late,” Gemma snapped when Serenity entered the drab little dining room. She was sipping a cup of tea and working on a crossword puzzle. “Browne has already cleared breakfast.”
Serenity blinked, then sat down across from Gemma. The clock on the mantle showed that it was just now seven. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you served breakfast so early. I will be on time tomorrow, I promise.” Her stomach growled, and she put a hand over it in embarrassment, hoping Gemma couldn’t hear.
“See that you are,” Gemma replied, not looking up from her puzzle. “You can’t expect me to create extra work for Browne just because you like to lay abed until noon.”
Serenity sighed, staring at the teapot. “May I have a cup of tea?”
Gemma nodded shortly, and for several minutes, Serenity busied herself with pouring the hot water over the tea leaves and adding two spoons of sugar. She hadn’t eaten yesterday at all, having traveled all day and not wanting to spend any of her meager savings. She actually felt weak with hunger, and the fact that Gemma had obviously decided not to feed her just because she hadn’t woken up at whatever insanely early hour she chose to take breakfast seemed quite unfair.
She had a sinking feeling that this would be just the first of many arbitrary rules Gemma would impose upon her.
Clearing her throat, she gestured to the section of the paper that Gemma was not using. “May I have a look at the classified section? I will try and find a new position quickly, so that I won’t have to impose on you for very long.”
Gemma frowned and finally met her gaze. “I thought we discussed this last night. I told you I’d be quite pleased if you’d stay here, with me, as my companion.”
Serenity clenched her fists beneath the table. “That’s very kind of you, Gemma. But I couldn’t possibly. I know money is tight for you.”
“Well, I won’t be paying you a wage,” Gemma said with a roll of her eyes. “Room and board should be sufficient; don’t you think?”
“Of course,” Serenity answered helplessly. The thought of being trapped in this small house with Gemma, totally dependent upon her for every little thing, having no money or control of her circumstances, made her feel even more weak and dizzy. The fact that Gemma expected her do so made her completely reexamine their friendship. Had Gemma felt this sort of bitterness and helplessness when she’d acted as Serenity’s companion? Had Serenity ever treated Gemma the way she was treating her now? She didn’t think so, but she’d been so enamored of Luke, so lost in him, she hardly remembered Gemma even being there.
She suddenly deeply regretted running away from Luke. Was living with Gemma any different than taking Luke’s offer of charity? At least if she’d gone back to the cottage, she’d have had some privacy and be able to decide what time she’d take her own breakfast.
She stared longingly at the newspaper and resolved to get her hands on it as soon as possible. Somehow, she would find herself another position. Though she owed Gemma a lot and was extremely grateful that she’d taken her in last night, she could already tell that life with her old companion was going to be unbearable.