A Lily Among Thorns(17)

“What?” Sophy set the tea tray down on the edge of the desk and sat down.

“He’s forged marriage lines that say he’s my husband.”

Sophy’s eyes went grim behind her spectacles. “I never liked him.”

Serena could not decide whether to laugh or mourn at the patent untruth. “Of course you liked him. I did too. Everybody liked him. But it doesn’t matter. He won’t get the Arms. Do you know if Antoine’s prepared the menus yet for Saturday?”

Sophy accepted the change in topic without a flicker of an eyelid. “I have them right here. He was occupied with tonight’s ragout, but he asked me to have you look them over and bring them back when you were through with them.”

Serena spread the menus in front of her like a fan, her mind turning to sauces, wine selections, and table arrangements.

This was her life. And she would see René hanged, drawn, and quartered before she would lose it.

Solomon was awakened by muffled voices coming from Serena’s room.

“René, he’s the hundred and twenty-five pounds. I’m not asking him to move and that’s final.”

“Is he really?” The marquis sounded appreciative, even through several inches of oak. “I always imagined him more sickly looking.”

Serena snorted with quickly bitten-off laughter. Solomon cringed. She had told Sacreval about him? What had she said?

“Why do you need him in my room, however? I see the door between is locked, which defeats my first guess.”

“Oh, I would only leave that door unlocked for someone I really trusted, like you,” Serena said poisonously. “Solomon is here on business. I’m recovering a family heirloom for him.”

“What sort of heirloom?”

“A pair of ruby earrings. A bit of doggerel has made them indispensable to family weddings and they’re needed rather urgently.”

Solomon flushed at her dismissive tone. Admittedly, that was just how he had described it to her, but it still stung.

“What sort of doggerel?”

Solomon’s embarrassment increased as she recited it.

“And they have gone missing?” the marquis said through his laughter. “How convenient for you—Monsieur Hundred-and-Twenty-Five-Pounds’ wedding is delayed, and he stays here with you while you search. Where have you hidden them, I should like to know?”

To Solomon’s surprise, Serena didn’t seem to take offense. “It’s his sister’s wedding, you clunch. They were stolen by a highwayman on the road to Shropshire last week.”

“Then once again I ask, why is he in my room? I know you have always had a romantic fancy about that boy, but—” The marquis broke off with a laugh. Solomon could imagine Serena’s glare. “My apologies. Bien sûr, you have never had a romantic fancy in your life. But I thought our friendship was stronger than that.”

“I was stupid enough to think so, too, before you threatened to confiscate my rightful property,” she said bitterly. “You of all people ought to be ashamed, using the law’s injustice to further yourself. Lord knows you’ve committed hanging offenses enough, even setting aside your activities for the French crown.”

There was a brief silence. “You would not have me hanged for that.”

“No, I wouldn’t. But you would forge marriage lines to take away my right to own property. Now I find that ironic, don’t you?”

“I am truly sorry, sirène. It is vile. You ought to take my offer to buy you out.”

“Get out of my room, René,” Serena said wearily. A few seconds later, the hall door shut quietly.

So. Apparently the ties of old friendship were too strong to be all loosed at once. Solomon sighed. He had been a little shocked at her ruthlessness, earlier, though her shock and misery had been plain enough beneath it. But now he had heard them talking familiarly together—even if it was about him—he understood how well they had known each other, and how hard the betrayal must have hit.

Solomon felt abruptly guilty. In the midst of her first furious hurt, he had experienced nothing but relief. Relief that she wasn’t really married, as he’d believed for one brief but surprisingly awful moment. He was glad Serena didn’t know that.

He knocked on the connecting door. “Yes?” she called.

“Let me in.”

After a few moments of silence, she turned the key and opened the door. She was still fully dressed, though it was past midnight; there were ink stains on her fingers. A woman of business, indeed. Solomon felt inexplicably pleased. “Are you all right?”