A Lily Among Thorns(66)

I’m gone where Youth will cease to wither—

Oh, Love is a bloody tyrant;

“Serena,” you who sent me thither

Were better named a “Siren.”

Serena thought that she was probably the only person in London who still remembered that. Except, perhaps, for Daubenay’s mother, who had made a scene in Serena’s parlor. Serena could still picture the note, written in Daubenay’s careless scrawl. The last thing those aristocratic hands would ever write. She had liked Daubenay, at first.

Solomon laughed. It was so incongruous with her own feelings that it shocked her. “I remember Alex Daubenay. My uncle cut his credit a few days before he died. I gave him the news myself and threatened to send for the constable when he made an unpleasant scene. Am I responsible for his death, too?”

“Of course not.” Ashton sounded impatient. “But he loved her. He gave up everything for her and she turned him away.”

“Ash, he was keeping her! It’s a business relationship. I just hope she didn’t allow him to buy on tick. My uncle was out two hundred pounds on his account, and we couldn’t get a penny from the estate.”

Serena was bitterly ashamed. She had dragged Solomon to this awful ball where he did not want to go, subjected him to the contempt of these people whom she hated, and been pointlessly nasty merely because she had enjoyed their kiss. Now she was even eavesdropping on him, and still he defended her. Serena had had enough. She rounded the potted plant.

“Mr. Hathaway,” she said abruptly.

Solomon eyed her warily. “Lady Serena?”

“I’d like to go home. If—that is, if you—”

His eyebrows flew up, but he gave her his arm.

“Good night, Ash.”

“Good night, Hathaway.” Ashton shifted uncertainly. “You’ve been a stranger since we left school. Call on me, won’t you? We’ll dine together.”

Solomon looked surprised. “I—of course,” he said.

Serena didn’t bother nodding to any of the people who stared at them on their way out.

She waited impatiently in the hall for Solomon and the footman to return with their things. She couldn’t wait to be gone. At the sound of footsteps she started. It was Lord Braithwaite. Serena cursed inwardly and looked the other way.

“Lovely gown, Serena,” he said with a familiarity that made her skin crawl.

“Thank you, my lord.”

He smiled suggestively. “Call me Freddy. You used to when we were children.”

“I don’t work for you anymore,” she said coldly. “I’m not obliged to do as you say.”

“No, you’re working for Hathaway now, aren’t you? You used to aim higher, but then, you’re not as young as you were.”

“No.” She looked him up and down. “I used to aim a lot lower. That coat his uncle made is the handsomest thing about you.”

He shook his head. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“Bugger your eyes,” she said. It was probably foolish, but then, she’d found that backing down could be as unsafe as defiance in a situation like this. And defiance felt so much better.

Braithwaite’s face went a shade of puce that clashed with his coat. He took an angry step toward her. Serena didn’t give ground. He wouldn’t hurt her in the Elbourns’ front hall, and by now men of the ton generally knew that it was dangerous to push her too far. But inwardly she felt a small spark of fear, a kind that had once been all too familiar.

She’d almost forgotten what it was like. She’d felt safe at her inn these last few years. René is never getting the Arms, she resolved anew, feeling for the knife in her reticule.

He took another step forward and spat out, “If you were a gentleman, I’d call you out for that, you little wh—”

He never finished the word, because Solomon, who had returned without her noticing, stepped between them and landed a heavy blow solidly on Lord Braithwaite’s chin. “Being a gentleman is looking less appealing all the time.” Solomon’s husky voice had gone deep and heavy with menace. “Never refer to the lady in such terms again, Braithwaite. In fact, don’t come anywhere near her. Understand me?”

Lord Braithwaite glowered above the hand covering his rapidly bruising jaw. “Devil take it, Hathaway, you’re overreacting,” he said somewhat indistinctly, then hissed with pain and rubbed at his jaw. “She’s not worth—”