Serenity's Dream (18 page)

a detached tone.

"Yes I do, because he had been in the same position as when I awoke."

"You never heard anything or felt anything out of the ordinary?"

Serenity shook her bowed head, tears coming in earnest. "I did not harm him in

any way, you must believe me."

Ignoring her entreaty, Prentice forged on. "Why did you not inform the

authorities of his death, Mrs. Damrill?"

"I was afraid. We were not married. We had lied to the hotel, calling ourselves

the Earl and Countess of Chetwood. I did not wish to humiliate Winsor or myself, for

surely the truth would have been revealed."

"Yes, it would have been, in fact it was as soon as Martyn Thorndyke appeared in

Florence. Are you aware he has accused you of murdering his brother?"

"Yes, I am. He said as much in Nottinghamshire." She looked at Lucien. "That's

why I came here," she confessed, shame sending her into a new bout of convulsive

tears.

Lucien stirred but left the interrogation to Prentice.

"What happened after you decided not to contact the authorities?"

"I paced and paced, trying to determine what I should do. There was nothing I

could do for Winsor, but I wanted to extricate myself from the situation and leave him

with some form of dignity. To be found unmarried and sharing a suite with a married

woman would have tarnished his reputation, and would have been a horrible way for

people to remember him."

"Please, focus, Mrs. Damrill. What happened next?"

"I decided I needed to get back to England as quickly as possible, so I packed but

a few of my things, so as not to attract attention, and I made my way by carriage, alone,

to Rome. From there I boarded a ship for England. When I arrived in Nottinghamshire,

I again took up residence at the estate and never mentioned my trip to Italy to anyone."

"Certainly your servants knew."

"Yes, but I thought they could be trusted. I have to assume now that I was

wrong."

"It does appear to be the case, does it not? Chetwood wasted no time in making

his way to London, and he knew where to find you."

Serenity looked at Lucien, whose face was sadness personified.

"Is there anything else you can tell me that might make my trip to Italy a bit more

lucrative?"

After thinking for several moments, she simply said, "No."

"Lucien, for what my opinion may be worth, I believe her. Her reaction may have

been misguided, but it seems a logical thing for a woman in her position to do. I believe

we shall find that the Italian authorities have closed this case, and Chetwood is simply a

grieving brother out to avenge his sibling." He looked at her briefly, then back at

Lucien.

Lucien nodded. "Yes, move on. That's exactly what needs to be done."

Chapter Sixteen

Serenity barely survived the angry encounter with Lucien and the horrible

interrogation to which Prentice Hyde had subjected her, but over the next six weeks,

she came to realize that Lucien's prophetic words meant more than just the ramblings of

an angry man.

While she'd come to see Lucien had meant her no harm, he continued to treat her

with nothing less than disdain. She'd tried to avoid sharing meals with him by eating in

her bedchamber or not eating at all. There had been no spanking sessions or

lovemaking. Serenity was always asleep whenever Lucien finally returned to their

rooms, and she never went to the club anymore.

It was as awkward a situation as she'd ever been involved in. She hated it. She

could only hope when Prentice returned, he would have news that would clear her of

any suspicion. He'd made her feel better about the situation, but then Lucien's reaction

had set off an ever-increasing wave of insecurities. If her own husband did not believe

her, she would surely be lost.

* * * * *

The summons came at nearly three in the afternoon on a rather warm summer

day in late June. She'd been sitting in the garden, enjoying the fragrance of roses,

foxglove, and marigolds. The butterflies darted about, much more carefree than

Serenity felt. It had been a peaceful afternoon but with Hampton's uncharacteristic

nervousness, any resolve to which she'd tentatively held evaporated like so much

steam.

Breathlessly, Hampton ran to her, nearly shouting. "Mrs. Damrill, you are to go

to the library at once. Please don't dawdle, Mr. Damrill said. The Marquess is back from

Italy."

Hampton had been positively effusive, which set Serenity's heart to pounding.

At least with Prentice gone, she had hope. Now that he was back, her courage left her,

causing her knees to sag. She trembled as though she were in fact on her way to the

gallows. Tears seared her eyes.

"Come along, ma'am." Hampton smiled and offered his arm.

She gladly took it, for she knew she wouldn't be able to manage on her own.

Walking into the library was singly the most difficult thing she'd ever done,

other than leaving Winsor to be found by strangers. The thought occurred this might be

the very last independent act of her life.

Lucien sat behind his desk, dressed in a dark blue tailcoat, silver waistcoat, and

snowy cravat. His black hair seemed even more populated with silver, but Serenity

thought briefly that since she hadn't seen him but in passing for several weeks, it could

be her imagination.

Prentice Hyde, the extraordinarily handsome Marquess of Wycroft, stood in the

middle of the room, dressed in gray tailcoat and trousers with a black waistcoat

embroidered with silver threads. He looked more bronzed than she'd ever seen him, but

his face gave nothing away as to what he'd learned on his journey to Italy. Another

gentleman stood quite near Prentice, and as she looked more closely, she saw Martyn

Thorndyke seated on the chair beside Lucien's desk.

She'd read of the Inquisition, and these staring faces made her feel like one of the

condemned. Tears fell unbidden down her cheeks.

Prentice broke the gloomy spell that hung over the room and spoke first. "Mrs.

Damrill, it is so nice to see you again." He took her trembling hand and kissed her

fingers, then slipped his arm around her waist and escorted her to a comfortable red

and gold striped chair. She sat, and he spoke again.

"Mrs. Damrill, I would like to introduce you to my friend, Signor Arturo Mosca

from Florence. He was kind enough to accompany me back to England so the matter of

Winsor Thorndyke's death can be settled, once and for all."

"Mrs. Damrill, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance." Signor Mosca

bowed slightly and spoke in flawless English.

"Likewise." Serenity feared she spoke directly to her future gaoler.

"Arturo had investigated the former Earl of Chetwood's death, and well, Arturo,

please tell my friends what you've concluded."

Mosca was a short, affable, well-fed man of an age with Lucien, stylishly dressed

though balding rather prematurely. Serenity feared his smile belied the horrible news

he would soon impart. Terror consumed her until she thought she might wretch.

"My friends, I have indeed determined the death of the earl was of a natural

origin. According to the doctors I have consulted, the earl died of problems related to

his heart. His body was examined, and without going into too much detail in deference

to the lady, it appears the gentleman died in his sleep and had been dead many hours

before discovery."

Martyn jumped up from the chair and stalked to where Signor Mosca stood

beside Serenity. "This is simply not so! Not so at all. This woman killed him; I am sure

of it."

Serenity's gaze darted from Martyn to Prentice to Signor Mosca, avoiding Lucien

altogether.

"I am sorry, your lordship, but I have it on the best authority, your brother, may

he rest in peace, died by no one's hand but that of God, who no doubt called him home

much sooner than you would have liked." Mosca raised a wary eyebrow.

Martyn mumbled, clearly defeated. Suddenly, he shouted, "Can she not be

charged with some crime? She left him and notified no one of his passing."

Signor Mosca raised both eyebrows in Serenity's direction, silently conceding

Martyn's point. "Her failure was of a moral nature, my friend. She must live with that

for all her days."

Martyn retrieved his hat and silently left the room. For all his previous bluster,

he shuffled out as though the news had hit him hard in the gut. Serenity would have

liked to give him some words of condolence, for they both had shared the life of Winsor

Thorndyke, but prudence kept her from embarrassing Lucien or herself any further.

Lucien had not moved, sitting transfixed in his leather chair behind his desk.

He'd listened to everything Signor Mosca had said and realized he was relieved his wife

had done nothing worse than fail to notify the authorities. His simmering jealousy of

the dead man came to a boil. Prentice and Mosca spoke in hushed tones while Serenity

remained seated in the chair, her head bowed. He could hear the muted sounds of her

sobs. Her shoulders bobbed up and down as she dabbed her nose with a lace

handkerchief.

Lucien had felt his life had slipped into a state of numbness since hearing of

Serenity's activities in Italy. During the past weeks, myriad emotions had overtaken

him, not the least of which was shame. He'd been unable and apparently unwilling to

do what a husband must in order to keep his wife at home where she belonged. He'd

been all too willing to watch her travel out of his life and did nothing but ignore her.

When she finally presented herself on his doorstep, his only thought was of carnal

pleasures. Of all the emotions he should be feeling, he'd never accepted the real

possibility he could ever care for her, as a husband should care for his wife.

He allowed his eyes to fall upon her pathetic figure. She was obviously

consumed in a maelstrom of emotions, all of which were being uncomfortably

displayed before strangers.

Lucien rose from his chair and in three long steps, knelt before his wife. He

placed his strong hand over hers in her lap and lightly squeezed. "Gentlemen, I

appreciate all you have done to clear my wife's name, but I feel I must get her to the

sanctity of her chamber. This has been quite an ordeal."

Prentice nodded and placed a hand on Arturo's shoulder. "Lucien, it was my

pleasure to do what I could to help the lovely Mrs. Damrill. Arturo, there are many

delights to be had at the Sapphire Club, and my friend, you have earned them all. I am

sure we can find you an accommodating partner. Possibly Lady Foxworth would be

willing to show you around." Prentice bowed to Serenity, clapped Lucien on the back

and escorted Mosca from the room.

"Come, my dear, let me get you to your chamber. You need to rest."

Serenity remained steadfast in her chair. Her body stiffened under his hand. He

could feel her anger.

"Get your hands off me," Serenity growled slowly, emphasizing each word.

Lucien removed his hands as though scalded.

Slowly, her head came up, her eyes transfixed, as cold as death. "
Now
you believe

me?"

"Yes, of course, I believe you."

"No, not 'of course'. You did not believe what I told you until someone else told

you the way of it. You believed me to be a liar and worse, a murderer, until Signor

Mosca traveled all the way from Italy to tell you differently. What does that say of your

opinion of me, Lucien?"

He bowed his head. Shame shrouded him, veiling him in the certainty there was

no way out of this situation. He wanted a way out; he wanted his wife; he wanted his

marriage. He'd been a fool for not seeing Serenity for the strong woman she was, but

he'd resisted her at every turn.

Could she truly be blamed for seeking him out for her protection? Perhaps, but

since she'd arrived, she'd demonstrated a great deal more faith in him than he ever had

in her. He'd betrayed her in the worst way, by not believing in her. He'd acted the fool

and knew he must repair the damage, if he wasn't already too late.

"I am a fool; that's what it says. I have nothing to recommend me, Serenity,

which is true. I had no faith in your word. I had determined not to believe in your

innocence on the strength of your word alone. I am profoundly sorry. You have been

through a personal hell, and I wasn't there to see you through it. You did not deserve

my scorn."

She stood and gave him a humorless smile. "Yes, you are a fool. And yes, I did

deserve your scorn. I wasn't honest with you about Winsor. You found out the worst

only when someone else told you. I should have told you when I first arrived, and for

that deficiency, I apologize." Her tears spilled gracefully down her cheeks, but she kept

her chin up.

Lucien used his thumb to wipe away the tears. He cupped her cheek and look

admiringly into her watery eyes. How had he not seen her before? Really
seen
her, for

the person she'd become with no help from him. She was strong but ever so feminine.

She'd matured in a way that made her infinitely more attractive to him than all the

available women who flaunted their attributes every night at the club.

Something crashed over him, taking his breath from his body. It hit him like a