Read Wicked Online

Authors: Susan Johnson

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

Wicked (47 page)

BOOK: Wicked
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Serena didn't argue, a benevolent lethargy seeping through her senses. She was having Beau's child, she blissfully thought. He wasn't gone from her
l
ife after all. And when Mrs. Calvacanti brought up the rich custard dessert later that morning, Serena ate two serving
s

o
ne for herself and one for the baby.

******************

Beau had a multitude of tasks to accomplish when he reached Florence, and reinvigorated after two days of sobriety, he set to work, taking rooms at the Locanda della Rossa and immediately calling for a tailor.

His other requirements were fulfilled, while the tailor and a dozen assistants called in to help, sewed and fitted and set the Earl of Rochefort to rights.

The consul-general arrived in breathless haste shortly after the first bastings were adjusted on a pair of black trousers. A summons from Pitt's young man required a speedy response, not to mention the necessary respect due the Duke of Seth
'
s heir. Then a priest was called in and a jeweler, two jewelers ultimately when Beau required a sapphire in addition to a diamond ring; a clerk (to write up a marriage contract) was added to the throng as well as a florist, all of whom awaited instructions from the young man being fitted for a new suit in the middle of the large suite, an army of tailors with pins in their mouths bent to the task.

Beau issued orders with polite authority, intent on speedily achieving his aims. He didn't get himself a wife every day of the week and a certain amount of work was required to accomplish his purpose, none of which he cared to wait for overlong.

As his minions labored around him, putting his plans en train, he cautioned himself to woo Serena more gallantly this time. He'd reason with her—
s
peak of romance, say all the flattering things lovers say when proposing. Flowers should help too; women like flowers. He called the jewelers over to study the rings he'd selected again, scrutinizing the stones with an eye to Serena's tastes. Large, but not too large; she'd not appreciate a nouveau riche ostentation. He liked the sapphire best but women usually preferred diamond
s

t
he diamond he'd been told was newly arrived from India.

He glanced at the clock, impatient to be off on his mission and mildly nervous too. Marriage was a huge step, but he couldn't have her any other way, he realized.
So ...
He drew in a steadying breath.

An hour and a half later with the consul-general and the priest in tow, Beau set out for Serena's apartment, the carriage filled with bouquets of flowers, two small ring boxes in his pocket. The men spoke of the newly signed truce on the short ride to Serena's, none too optimistic of its holding for long, and they discussed the state of Austria's readiness to take on Napoleon again.

Mrs. Calvacanti met Beau and his entourage in the courtyard, so very pleased to see him again, she said, beaming, the young lord's carrying flowers a gratifying sign. Miss Blythe was at the Castellis "at home" that evening she told him. And she just knew Miss Blythe would be thrilled to see him.

Beau debated waiting until Serena returned but wasn't in the mood to delay what he'd come here to do and neither did he care to keep polite company with the consul-general and the priest until the entertainment at the Castellis was over.

He could send a note asking her to see him, but he wasn't sure she'd respond, regardless of what Mrs. Calvacanti implied. Serena's manner of leaving Piacenza denoted resentment, if not a more volatile anger.

Which left only a single avenue.

For some reason he hadn't visualized her surrounded by admirers when he walked into the Castellis' salon. He'd imagined a more poetic, sentimental moment of recognition and delight.

She didn't even notice him when he entered the room, for she was laughing uproariously at something one of the men had said and instant recall of a similar image as he'd entered Massena's headquarters at Milan burned through his brain. She'd been equally at home with the roomful of French officers that night. Taking immediate affront, his jealousy never within reasonable bounds with Serena, he had to force himself to respond civilly to Julia, who'd come over to greet him.

"Actually I arrived only this afternoon," he replied to her question. "May I introduce Mr.
W
inthrop, our consul-general, and Father Alegini," he politely added, his gaze drawn back to Serena across the room. "Miss Bl
yt
he survived her journey well, I see," he murmured, his tone aggrieved.

"We can't thank you enough for your intervention with Massena," Julia declared, unaware of Beau's displeasure. "Serena didn't go into much detail but I'm sure your presence in Milan was instrumental in gaining her freedom."

"I was of minor help, perhaps," he replied, bringing his gaze back with effort from the odious scene of his lover flirting with a dozen men. "Could I offer you some flowers, Miss Castelli, and beg your forgiveness for coming uninvited to your evening soiree." Serena had just thrown her head back i
n a
peal of laughter at something a ta
l
l, blond man had said and he was no longer in the mood to woo her with flowers.

"How lovely of you," she said, taking the large bouquets he held out to her, "and you're welcome to visit anytime, Lord
R
ochefort. If your guests would like to make themselves comfortable, Papa has some very good sherry on the table by Plato's bust over there. I'll bring you to Serena."

"Thank you, but I'll wait till she's less busy."

Julia laughed lightly. "Then you'll wait a very long time, my lord. She's never without a circle of admirers."

"I see," he said, his smile tight. "In that case, I'll hope to f
i
nd an opportune time to break into her conversation. Please, see to your other guests; I'll admire your collection of paintings while I wait." And after speaking briefly to the consul-general and priest, informing them they might be staying for a time, Beau took himself off into a quiet corner and watched Serena charm a crowd of men.

The room was large, the number of guests considerable, and the men surrounding Serena sufficient to screen Beau from her view. Julia didn't feel comfortable disregarding Lord
Rochefort's wishes so she didn't approach Serena with news of his arrival. But she surreptitiously watched the young Englishman standing near the library door, one shoulder resting against the paneled wall, his arms crossed negligently across his chest. His gaze held a startling chill.

She didn't have to speculate long regarding his motives for he soon pushed away from the wal
l
and strolled over to the gathering around Serena, all thoughts of gentle wooing effaced.

He wasn't in her line of sight until he was quite close and Serena abruptly stopped talking when she saw him. The group all turned, following her gaze, and Beau walked between two men who'd stepped aside to better view the object of Serena's attention.

He was no more than a foot away, her perfume pungent in his nostrils, when he bowed slightly. "May I have a moment of your time, Miss Blythe?" he queried, his voice expressionless. Without waiting for her answer, he pulled her forward and began drawing her away.

A hand clamped hard on Beau's shoulder, arresting his progress. "The lady may not wish to go," Sandro said, scowling.

"We're old friends," Beau silkily said, insinuation flagrant. "Tell him, Miss Blythe, how well we know each other," he softly taunted. And jerking his shoulder free, he stood poised, combative.

"I'm fine, Sandro," Serena quickly interposed, not sure Beau wouldn't be grossly crude, his body taut beside her, his clipped order resonating in her ears. "I'll be back shortly."

"And then perhaps not," Beau drawled, tightening his hold on her.

"Grow up," she lashed out, as hot-tempered as he, and turning back to the men observing her, she offered them a bland smile. "I won't be long."

Beau's lashes lowered fractionally in silent contradiction but he didn't speak, satisfied he was about to take her away.

"No one asked you to come here," Serena snapped, walking swiftly to keep up with Beau's long stride as he moved across the room. "And you're not taking me out of this gathering or I'll scream."

He abruptly stopped, scrutinized her, gauging her sincerity, then quickly surveyed the room, moving a second later toward a set of bookcases framing a large painting of a Tuscany landscape. "It didn't take you long to get back into circulation," he said, sullen and glowering, his black coat and breeches somber like his mood.

"I have no intention of living a secluded life."

"Obviously."

"You have no control over my actions, Rochef
o
r
t

b
y your choice, if I recall. You didn't think you could settle for one woman, I believe you said. I prefer a variety of men as well."

He
.
p
i
nned her against the leather bindings of the books so swiftly she sucked in her breath in surprise. "I came here to marry you, dammit. Fuck the men."

“Let me capture this moment in time," she sarcastically retorted, "so I can forever remember this enchanting proposal."

"Just say yes and we can get the hell out of here," Beau churlishly muttered.

"But I don't wish to marry you," she coolly replied, "despite your gallant offer." If he wanted to marry her, it wasn't for love, judging by his tone of voice. And she didn't expect that faithfulness was a component with such an uncharitable attitude.

"Here," he said, taking the two ring boxes from his pocket. "Take these." And lifting her hand, he placed them in her palm.

"I don't want your rings."

"What do you want then, dammit?"

"What you can't give me, Bea
u

y
our love."

"I thought we went through all that already."

"We did. And therein lies the problem, darling."

He was encouraged by the endearment, no matter that it was sardonically uttered. "Well, I think I do now."

Her brows rose faintly. "You need some lessons, Rochef
o
rt, to be convincing."

His nostrils flared as he drew in a breath. "I'm not a good actor."

"I know. A shame." She wished he was; she truly did.

"All you have to do is say yes," he whispered, leaning into her, his strong body familiar and heated. "Say yes, just say it. . . ."

"I want you to love me."

He took another deep breath, the black abyss yawning. "I do."

"This is harder yet, Rochefort," she said, smiling faintly at the two breathless words he'd uttered. "You have to love
only
me."

His familiar smile flashed, his dark eyes lit with amusement. "That's easy. I've never loved anyone e
l
se before. There now, say yes. I've the consul-general here to marry us or a priest if you prefe
r

I
didn't know if you were Catholic. The license is in my pocket. You only have to say you will."

"What of all your women? Not love this time, Rochefort, just the sexual amusements."

He exhaled, stared at her for a very long time, his face closed, his expression unreadable. Then he grimaced. "Why not?" he obtusely muttered. "They're gone. Satisfied?"

"Somehow that admission lacks a certain sincerity," she breathed.

"Christ, Serena, you drive a hard bargain."

"I don't want it to be a bargain." Her voice was soft but intense with emotion.

"It sure as hell seems like it to me," he exasperatedly muttered. "What the hell are you giving up?"

Damn him, he wasn't marrying for love; he was giving things up to marry. "Fuck you," she resentfully exclaimed.

"Now
that
I understand. Would you like to do it as a married lady?" His smile was wolfish. "I'm ready."

"You're always ready, aren't you? Tell me how long this transient impulse to marry will last. Until the next female crosses your path?"

BOOK: Wicked
13.05Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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