Chapter Twenty-Seven

Portsea Island, Portsmouth

After Madame Yolanda gave instructions to a servant, she summoned Serena to the main hall.

“You asked to see me?” Serena asked in a quiet tone.

“Yes. My daughter told me you didn’t have time to purchase a wedding gown. I have spoken to my son and he has approved a seamstress to come and fit you. I have asked her to bring samples of suitable fabrics from which to choose.”

“Dear Madame, it is no secret this is an arranged marriage inspired by my brother and your son’s needs to advance their careers. I am the pawn in this chess game. I have no interest in the gown. You may select whatever you like.”

“I sympathize, but we as women must do as we are told. That seems a difficult notion for you to embrace.” Madame was reserved. “My son has one request and that is the gown should not be white. It would be inappropriate since you do not come to the marriage as a virgin.”

“As you and your son wish, Madame Yolanda. When is the seamstress to come?”

“In the afternoon. I will call for you. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you.” Serena curtsied and climbed the steps to her chambers. She took her heavy hooded black cape and went to the parapet to look at the cloudy sky. While the wind refreshed her, she clutched at the fasteners to ward off the chill.

Once the brute married her, he would make her life miserable. She could not allow it to happen. The surging water broke on the beach, the ominous sound echoed in her ears, and the foaming waves beckoned her. The wind picked up and she would have sworn she heard the waves echo her name.

Serena, a wave crashed. Serena, another wave pounded. Serena, a third wave thundered. Come to us.

What kind of evil surrounded her?

An eerie sensation rained over her. She turned her head to the right and could see LeBran as he watched from his window, his eyes focused on her. Even from a distance, he threatened.

Geoffrey consumed her thoughts, yet he could not help her. Fear tore her apart. As time passed, it became difficult to visualize the Duke’s face and his body on hers. She needed the memory to endure the days ahead. The cloudy sky opened and rain began again, fierce and pelting. She retreated to her room and left her damp cloak on a hangar to dry near the scant fire.

Serena had to find a way to freedom.

In a few minutes, a happy Josephine came to her and announced the seamstress had arrived with the samples. “Where is Emma?” she asked.

“Busy with her chores,” Serena answered. “I can fend for myself. She has much to do for all of us.”

They descended the steps and went to the main hall. Madame Yolanda introduced the seamstress to Serena and Josephine. In addition to the wedding dress, both mother and daughter were to have gowns. Later Serena heard Madame tell the seamstress that Sir Henry, her brother, would honor the invoice.

Serena didn’t care about the fabric selection, but she continued the charade. She fingered the fabrics and looked at a pale blue silk. “Josephine, this color would suit your blue eyes. Do you not agree, Madame Yolanda?”

“I believe I do, Serena. You are kind to think about her first. It is appreciated.” Madame Yolanda smiled.

“There seems to be a progression of colors in the same hue. Madame, this color is a shade or two deeper than the pale blue. It would flatter your hair’s silver color.”

Madame Yolanda instructed the seamstress, “Bring the mirror to me. I would like to see how it looks against my face.” She placed the fabric around her neck and preened. “I do agree. Josephine, do you like it? We’ve had so little time to address fashion and this becomes a happy circumstance.”

“Yes, Mother. You look beautiful.”

“What color will you choose, Serena?” the matron asked, still gazing in the mirror.

“Perhaps the deeper color which is more of a teal?” LeBran’s comment to not wear the virginal white color stuck in her craw like a sharp chicken bone.

Josephine clapped her hands. “It is perfect for you and we will all be in harmony. It will be a wonderful day. I cannot wait.”

The seamstress asked about Serena’s gown preference. “Since I have been married before, I would prefer something classic and simple. No ruffles or long train. It should have long sleeves and a collar up to the neck.”

To hide my scarred back—and my fractured heart.

“However, Josephine, perhaps, a wide skirt, a modest bodice, and puffed sleeves. Would you like that?”

Josephine looked to her mother who nodded and smiled.

“Yes, it is also possible we will find a suitor for you, daughter, among the eligible men who are wedding guests.”

“Madame Yolanda,” Serena said. “I envision you in silk, a fitted long-sleeved jacket with a beaded collar, and a skirt of rustling fabric.”

“Oh, my.” Madame looked to the seamstress, eyebrows arched.

“It can be done, Madame Yolanda, although it is more expensive.”

“Cost is not an object.” Yolanda dismissed the comment. “I do not need my son’s approval. I commission this project. I like the joy I see on my daughter’s face. We will all require matching slippers and reticules. Can you bring sketches tomorrow?”

The seamstress agreed, and then proceeded to take their measurements.

Madame Yolanda spoke about the flowers to be tied to the pew benches and at the altar.

“Do you have a favored bloom, Serena?”

“I prefer calla lilies, but they are white.” She knew they also put them on caskets, did they not? “The seamstress could tie them with a bow which matches my gown.”

The matron nodded, and checked off something from an incomplete task list. “We will need an organist and a small choir. This is an auspicious occasion for my son.”

And a disaster for her.

“If you like, Josephine,” Serena said, “I will help dress your hair.”

She looked toward her mother for approval.

“It is a special occasion and quite appropriate for you, child. Who knows, one day we might plan Josephine’s wedding together.”

I won’t be there, Madame, for I shall be dead soon if I cannot find a way to halt these proceedings.

Later that afternoon, while she sat in the main hall alone with her thoughts, Lord LeBran approached, a newspaper in his hand. “There you are. I was looking for you.”

“I am not hard to find,” Serena answered.

He held up the paper. “I do like to read the gossip columns since they sometimes can be useful to a politician. Here’s something on your former lover, Lord Geoffrey Austen. Shall I read it to you?”

“He is not my former lover. I married the only man who knew me in the biblical sense.” God, forgive her for this lie.

“I will read it to you anyway. Seems the dashing rake Lord Geoffrey A. has been seen squiring around the actress, Jenny Gladstone. Could he be smitten with her acting charms or is it something else? He peered over the top of the paper at her.

Serena summoned control, kept a stone face. “Why would you think it would interest me?” She struggled to breathe.

Had Geoffrey forgotten her so quickly? Could it have been a mistake to plot to send Emma to him?

“According to your brother, you were lovers. I would take his word over yours any day.”

“It saddens me, you feel it is the truth,” Serena replied.

He whirled around like a devil, his hand raised to strike her. She stepped back. “I will inform you only this once. You are to address me with proper respect. I am your lord and soon to be your master. You will acknowledge me as Lord LeBran or Your Lordship. After we are married, I will teach you insolence has its consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.” Defiance would get her nowhere. She arched an eyebrow. “Lord LeBran.”

“That is better. At least you can learn.” He stomped away and left her alone. He didn’t see her fisted hands.

Could it be possible the newspaper gossip held truth?

The dreary day outside the walls lent to the bleakness inside her heart, pitch dark and desperate.