A Lily Among Thorns(73)

She disappeared behind it for several seconds. “You must think I’m very weak and foolish,” she said finally, looking up at him.

Serena did rather, unless it was all a lie and Lady Brendan the traitor after all, but Solomon replied warmly, “Not at all. I think it’s very courageous and noble of you to risk everything for England this way.”

Serena felt an unpleasant pang. She knew he thought she ought to have turned René in years ago.

“You’re being a regular Trojan,” he continued. “I am sure your stepson will look out for you, but if you find yourself in any financial difficulty—”

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” Lady Brendan broke in hurriedly. “I would prefer anything to accepting charity. I had enough of that when I was small.” Her hands fluttered emphatically in her lap.

Was that a flash of annoyance in Solomon’s eyes? No, it couldn’t be, because he was reaching out to clasp her hand and smiling. “I wasn’t speaking of charity. But I daresay I could find you a position as a seamstress if you wanted, or perhaps Lady Serena could find you a job, couldn’t you, Lady Serena?”

Serena felt that she ought to be moved by all this, but she wasn’t. The more sympathetic Solomon became, the less she felt anything at all—the colder, in fact, she found herself becoming. “Of course, if I find you have any useful talents.”

Solomon glanced at her. That was definitely a flash of annoyance.

“Now I’m afraid I must go,” Serena continued. “If you’re going to cry any more, you’d better do it here where your husband can’t see you, and wash your face before you go, too. I’ll have some tea brought—”

“Free of charge,” Solomon interjected.

“Free of charge, naturally,” Serena agreed, “and I’m sure Mr. Hathaway would be delighted to bear you company.”

“Thank you,” Lady Brendan said with a sort of gracious, wounded misery, “but I don’t like to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble,” Serena said, suddenly perversely determined to be troubled. “But let me show you to a private parlor.” She was damned if she would leave a woman alone in her office whom only half an hour earlier she had believed a traitor.

Solomon offered Lady Brendan his arm, and when they had ensconced her in a private parlor, he pressed her hand before taking his leave. “If you need anything, just let us know.”

When they were out the door and heading toward the kitchen, Solomon looked at Serena. “I can’t believe you were so unfeeling to that young woman.”

She had been, of course. “I am simply an unfeeling woman, I suppose. Perhaps that explains why I’ve never cried on anyone’s shoulder or required free tea of utter strangers.” She had cried on Solomon’s shoulder, though, only a few nights ago in the laundry tunnel. She wished she hadn’t.

“Very true,” said Solomon. “Neither have you ever risked your all for the safety of English soldiers and the liberty of English citizens.”

Serena clenched her jaw and said nothing.

“Not everyone can be such a Spartan as you. I think she’s holding up remarkably well under the circumstances.”

What circumstances? Being on the brink of seeing a man she cares about brutally executed and not knowing if she’ll find herself on the streets? What would I know about that? It’s not as if it were easy to be a Spartan, she wanted to yell. But she knew how these things worked. Lady Brendan, with her wet lashes and fluttering hands, would get nothing but sympathy, accolades, and male admiration for her courage. Serena, if the past were any indication of the future, would be termed a cold bitch.

Instead she said something nearly as ill judged. “You’re right, of course. And then she is very pretty, isn’t she?”

Solomon smiled suddenly. “I thought so,” he agreed. “But then, I have an especial fondness for gray eyes.”

Serena’s mouth curved reluctantly. “Oh you have, have you?” They reached the kitchen before he could reply. “Antoine, can you have someone make up a tea tray, please?” She turned back to Solomon. “You’ll take it in to her, won’t you?”

“Not likely,” he said with a grin. “She’s unchaperoned, and anyway, you’re raving if you think I’ll listen to more of that ‘my father’s blood was the bluest in France’ drivel.”

She looked at him in surprise.