Chapter Ten

Henry, with Arabella at his side, walked toward Geoffrey. “You seem pensive tonight. Have we run out of events to amuse you?”

“It is never a question of amusement, Sir Henry, but rather it is the opportunities which present themselves. There is much on my mind.”

Geoffrey turned to the woman. “Tell me, Miss Arabella, do you like teaching at school?”

“Your Grace, I find it a reward to help educate our ladies, and it brings me fulfillment. It has made my life a worthwhile endeavor. Young minds are so precious. Perhaps one of them will become famous and remember I taught her.” She sighed. “There are not many opportunities for the maidens in the rural areas, but that’s another story.”

Sir Henry hung on her every word like a besotted adolescent. “You do not prefer to aspire to something else? The topics you teach, I am told, deal with arithmetic, history, geography and my favorite, current events. Why so?”

“Because our founder, Lord Winston’s sister, believes a woman should become involved in political matters, to stand by her husband’s side, as an equal, and assist in the accomplishment of his goals.”

Geoffrey noted her artful way with words and surmised Henry had a tiger by the tail. He should tell Henry not to be a snob. If Arabella was the woman that put a song in his heart, he should act upon it. Life should be lived and savored. He kept his own hypocritical counsel. Instead, Geoffrey said to his host, “The day has exhausted me. I shall excuse myself and retire. I plan to ride Solomon tomorrow at sunrise, test his leg, and be sure he’s fully recovered.”

“Of course, Lord Geoffrey.”

He bade all good night, and went to his room. Alone in his chamber, Geoffrey paced, restless and wild. Damnation. Every muscle in his body tightened like he was strapped to a medieval torture screw. Perhaps he should prepare to leave in the morning.

Would Serena beg him to stay? Sleep beckoned. He undressed and got under the covers. Chaotic dreams of a beautiful exotic beauty that held him captive disturbed his slumber.

The clock chimes at midnight awakened him. Geoffrey found it impossible to fall back to sleep, so he dressed in his breeches, lawn shirt, jacket and boots. After descending the staircase, he silently made his way to the kitchen door and left the manor house.

He walked the path to the lake. There in the moonlight he saw a dream-like image. Serena stood at the water’s edge. In the shadows, a lantern cast light on her shift and a towel that rested on the log bench. She waded further from the edge, playfully slapping the water with her hands. Her form indeed was voluptuous to the eye—all female and a definite temptation.

Lord Geoffrey continued his silent vigil until he saw her ready to return to the bank, then made himself known. “What do we have here?” he taunted, holding her shift and cloth in his hands. “Is this a lake nymph come to greet me?”

She crossed her arms over her breasts and didn’t turn, but retreated into the deeper water. “Get out of here, you brute.”

“I will, but if I leave, your night shift and towel go with me. Or, I could wait here until you get cold enough to need my warmth to stop your shivers? It is your choice, my lady. I had reserved this night for you.”

“I cannot come out. I am naked, you horrible man. Please let me have my chemise. Be decent even though I know that is most difficult for you.”

“If you continue to insult me, I may walk away, and you will need to follow me in order to apologize for your insolence to a Duke. Were you not taught manners and grace?”

“I would ask you the same.” One hand and arm covered her breasts and the other went lower.

“You are a temptation, my lady, a Botticelli Venus.” He hoped to fluster her further. “I could look at you all night.” He sat on the bench. “Perhaps I shall.” He hummed a soft tune and waited a minute. “It is getting warm out here. Maybe I should join you in the water?”

“No! Don’t you dare.”

“You seem to like to use the word dare, do you not?” He grinned.

“Please leave my garment and walk away.”

“Come out. I will not look. I’ll close my eyes, you have my word.”

“The word of a professed rake? You expect me to trust you? Impossible animal is what you are. You are a heathen, too. In heaven’s mercy, please go away.”

“In that case…” He smiled, dropped her shift, and removed his shirt and boots.

“Stop. No closer.”

“When you say No, I take it as a challenge.” He removed his breeches, slipped out of them, and waded into the water.

A full moon brightened the lake. He liked the way she stared at him in wide-eyed apprehension. Geoffrey romped through the water until he stood in front of her. She turned, her hands at her sides, her back exposed to him. Moonlight reflected a mark on her flesh.

“Have you been injured, Serena?” He placed his finger against her back.

“It is useless. I cannot hide my ugliness any more. You have discovered my secret shame.” Serena faced him. Her voice trembled and her eyes lowered.

“Who did this to you? I demand to know.” He touched her.

She sobbed, hiding her face in her hands.

“No, do not turn away. Let me help you,” Geoffrey said.

He scooped her in his arms, splashed his way to the grassy knoll, and sat her on the bench. The lantern light showed clearly the marks on her back. He helped her into her chemise then he placed his shirt tightly around her to calm the tremors. He stooped and rubbed her legs to get the blood circulating. He’d been a fool to keep her in the water like that.

“Do not move.” Quick to don his breeches, Geoffrey sat next to her on the wooden bench. “Come to me. I won’t hurt you.” His arms encircled her shoulders and he cradled her. “I offer you the warmth of my body, Serena. It’s adequate for both of us.” He pulled her close, nestled her head against his shoulder. “Answer me, my sweet Serena. Are your scars the reason you will not give yourself to me?” He tilted her chin to him. “Did you think I would find you repulsive?”

“Yes.” Tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Your husband did this, did he not? If he were not already dead, I would kill him myself—a slow painful death.”

She sniffled. “You honor me with your vow.”

Flashes of the portrait of her late husband with the evil eyes ran through his mind. Her depiction of him reflected the truth.

She raised one hand and placed it in the nest of fur on his chest. Her touch ignited strong emotions—fury—desire—compassion—sympathy, each one in combat with the others. He wanted retribution for the wrongs done to her, but vengeance would not be his.

Serena sobbed. He rocked her in his arms while his lips tasted her salty tears. He kissed her temple. “Shush, love. Those scars don’t make a difference to me. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, inside and out.”

“Are your wounds the reason you come to the lake at night?”

“The freedom of the water makes me forget…for a short time.”

“I cannot believe anyone could do this to another human being, most especially their wife. If he did not love you, why did he not take a mistress?”

“He did take a mistress and also pursued the wives of other men, but it was only with me he found enjoyment to inflict pain. Who would believe me if I were to say anything? With the other women, he was the epitome of kindness.” Again tears flooded her eyes, but her sobs stopped with the words she uttered. “When we were alone, he became a different person. Nothing I did or said appeased him. He was a rabid animal and he took out his rage on me. He forced me to do whatever he demanded. Then he beat me with his razor strap and called me a strumpet.”

Geoffrey released her. “Let us get back to your studio. If you have salve, I will apply it for you. Let me help you, my dear one. Perhaps the warmth of a fire will comfort you?”

She nodded, and he picked up his boots and stockings and donned them. “If you cannot walk, I can carry you,” he said.

“No, I am used to the path,” she whispered.

He took the lantern and they walked in silence, hand in hand.

In the doorway, Emma waited. Surprised to see Geoffrey, she stepped back to allow them to enter.

“Good evening,” he whispered. “I found your mistress shivering in the lake. Do you have a fire lit upstairs?”

“Yes, your Grace.” She followed them up the staircase.

“Would you fetch a thick blanket?” He glanced around the room. “Forgive my state of undress. I gave your mistress my shirt.”

The maid handed him an extra blanket. He helped tuck it about Serena and led her to the lounge. Geoffrey knelt, held her feet, rubbed them warm and tucked them under the wool. “Emma, your lady and I have much to speak about. You may depart without a worry. I won’t harm her in any way.”

The maid looked to her mistress. Serena nodded.

Emma curtsied. “Ring the bell in the morning, and I will prepare breakfast for you both. Fresh eggs, a rasher of bacon, baked bread, coffee and cream, too. I’ll plead innocence if someone comes looking.” She smiled and closed the door as she left.

A crocheted afghan on the settee caught his eye. He threw it over his shoulders, and sat next to Serena. He pulled her to him. “Place your head on my chest. I will always keep you safe and warm, sweeting.”