Page 24 of Courting the Duke (Reimagined Regency #2)
Serena paced back and forth in the tiny room that she had occupied since coming to live with her aunt and uncle. Since the incident three days prior, her life was a blur. The carriage ride had been excruciating, and the pain hadn’t lessened once she returned home.
Added to her current stress, she had spent a sleepless night crying and worrying about her future.
Her gaze went to the stack of luggage in the corner.
She had considered leaving with a single portmanteau, but the dresses in the trunk could be sold, providing much-needed income to help her survive.
Eyes scratchy from crying, she rubbed at them.
Ten years ago, after her mother passed, Serena had been relegated to the sparsely furnished room in the family wing where she faced the full brunt of her aunt’s vindictive nature.
The day after returning to Clarkingham Manor, she’d expected the servants to come and take her belongings to the carriage for the journey to London. That hadn’t happened. She was certain her aunt did that on purpose to make the torment last longer.
Serena lifted her chin at the sound of a sharp knock, her bottom lip quivering before she caught herself. She would not show her pain to anyone, although it was probably written all over her face. “Come in,” she said.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Smith, entered, her lips pinched with disapproval. She never had a kind word to say to Serena and, like the countess, took great delight in looking down her nose at her. “Lord Charles would like to see you.”
By now, the entire household was aware of her situation, which added to the crushing weight on her chest. She’d sent a letter to her brother, and thanks to Roxanne’s influence, the viscount had promised to let Brandon keep his post.
Hope displaced panic, and she clutched the handkerchief in her hand, one of many that she had used throughout the last two days. Her uncle had always been kind to her and treated Brandon like a son. Perhaps he had decided to override his wife on her behalf as well.
A part of her rebelled at staying. Foolish, yes, but swallowing one’s pride for a decade was excruciating.
Serena followed the woman downstairs, the steps creaking beneath her heels.
She had been given the smallest and farthest room in the family wing, one that had not seen any improvement since she moved in.
Her aunt’s dislike of her mother had seeped into her opinion of Serena; there was nothing she could do to change it.
Bare floors gave way to luxurious carpeting, and the thick runner cushioned her footsteps as she drank in the sight of the warm wood and expansive ceilings that made up Clarkingham Manor.
The days ahead were uncertain, and she bit back a sob.
While her Uncle Charles was a giving man, he often kowtowed to his wife, rather like Roxanne.
Her dear cousin had given her every coin from her allowance so that Serena would have funds to tide her over until she could find employment.
However, the countess would have blackballed her by now, and she didn’t anticipate finding much more than perhaps a position as a maid or a governess, since she was educated.
Perhaps she could find employment with a well-to-do merchant.
They descended the stairs, and she expected to be led into her uncle’s study, but Mrs. Smith veered toward the blue drawing room, her shoulders rigid in her black gown.
Stomach roiling, Serena’s steps faltered as she entered the room. Not only was her uncle in the room and sitting in his favorite chair, but a familiar figure stood nearby, his back toward her.
There was no mistaking the overly long brown hair and wide shoulders that tapered to a lean waist. Her pulse began to pound even harder, and she found it hard to stand upright. “You wish to see me, Uncle?”
Her uncle stood, and Hoxton turned at the sound of her voice, his gaze locking on hers before he skimmed down her face and frowned. “Miss Deburgiak.”
Whatever was Hoxton doing here? Had he come to propose to Roxanne? The sickness in her stomach increased. “Lord Hoxton.”
Mrs. Smith moved to the sideboard and asked the gentlemen if they wanted a brandy. Her uncle nodded, but Hoxton shook his head. She completely ignored Serena.
“Please, Serena, have a seat.” His narrow face covered with freckles, Uncle Charles motioned to the chair next to his.
He resumed his seat, adjusting the tails of his brown coat. “Hoxton has informed me about the incident at Hoxton House. His story differs from your aunt’s. Of course, hers was secondhand. Would you care to elaborate and give your own opinion about what happened?”
Serena wasn’t sure whether this was a trick question.
She wanted to look at Hoxton for an indication of what he said or didn’t say, but she wouldn’t allow herself to do so.
When they had left the cellar, they agreed to put the past behind them.
“We went on a tour of the castle, and while we were looking at the casks at the back of the room, the door closed. The handle had fallen off previously and Hoxton forgot to have it repaired. We became trapped.”
Her uncle looked toward Hoxton before studying her again, an inquisitive smile curling his thin lips. “The two of you seem to have the same story almost verbatim.”
Mrs. Smith brought him a glass of brandy, her stony expression belying the interest in her eyes. The men didn’t seem to notice or care that she was overhearing everything.
Bile burned in Serena’s throat, and she tried to stop her legs from shaking. “That’s because that’s what happened.” It wasn’t the entire story, but it was enough.
Uncle Charles sat back in his seat, tapping his finger on his glass. “It sounds completely innocent to me.”
She allowed herself to relax a bit, chancing a glance at Hoxton. He still stood with one hand on his hips, his expression unreadable. She wished he would give her some indication of what he and her uncle had already discussed.
“Exactly. It was completely innocent. I understand how it looks, although I assure you it’s simply a misunderstanding,” she said, watching as Mrs. Smith positioned herself in the back of the room, her hands folded over her stomach.
“I might believe you, but the gossips have already spread their poison, and my wife is upset over the scandal. You are not the only one affected by this. Roxanne and your other cousins will be scrutinized by your behavior.” Uncle Charles sipped at his glass.
“Not to mention your brother’s reputation will be tarnished. ”
“I never meant to bring any shame on any of them, and I can assure you, it was a misunderstanding.” A lump formed in her throat, and she willed her voice to remain steady. “I must thank you for allowing Brandon to keep his vicarage.”
“He is a good lad.” The viscount swirled the brandy in his glass. “As for your situation, I am afraid it’s not as simple as you claim. Hoxton understands the repercussions, and he is willing to do the right thing by you.”
Startled, she snapped her head up and stared at Hoxton, incredulous at the news.
Their last conversation rolled around in her mind, and her confusion must be evident because her uncle reached out and patted her hand.
“He requested permission to marry Roxanne, and already asked for her hand, or at least he intended to.”
“Given the circumstances, I have changed my plans. I can’t in good conscience allow you to suffer unduly for something that was not your fault, but we both know that perception is everything, and your reputation is compromised.
” Hoxton spoke in a low voice, his throaty tone revealing his upset over the entire situation.
He would marry her out of obligation, and although she wanted to be with him, she didn’t want his pity.
“It will all blow over. You can marry Roxanne, and I will simply fade into the distance.” She looked at her uncle, giving him a pleading stare.
While her uncle had promised to allow Brandon to assume his post once he left university, her aunt’s warning still rang in her ears.
“I have packed my trunks and I am ready to leave per my aunt’s request. I would appreciate it if you could provide a letter of reference so that I can secure employment.
I know how much I’m asking of you, but I promise that I will find a post somewhere out of society and won’t darken your door again. ”
“Or you can simply marry Hoxton.” His confusion over her denial was evident in the downturn of his lips. “You are a lady, therefore you should take your place in society.”
A flash of movement in the back of the room reminded her that there were prying eyes.
Mrs. Smith had a habit of lurking and reporting everything she’d heard to the countess.
If Serena let on that she wanted to marry Hoxton, she was unsure what her aunt would do.
She’d threatened Serena once with ruin, and without a doubt, her aunt would follow through.
“Regardless of whether I married Lord Hoxton, scandal would still follow us.” While it was on the tip of her tongue to say yes and assure her future, it wasn’t in her nature to be obligated to anyone.
“There you are wrong,” Hoxton interjected. “You will be a duchess. Nobody would dare say a word to you.
“You need to marry someone with influence so that you can help your regiment,” she reminded him. He had told her about his plans to expand hospitals for soldiers who returned home from battle. It was a noble cause, one she supported.
“I have agreed to help him in his cause,” Uncle Charles said. “But only if he does the right thing and marries you.”
It was bribery, pure and simple. “That is very noble of you, Uncle, but what about Roxanne? She had every expectation to marry Lord Hoxton.”
“You needn’t worry about my daughter, she has plenty of suitors. At last count, I have received offers from multiple gentlemen, including a baron and an earl.”
“Stiller is very complimentary of her.” Serena was determined that Roxanne not suffer any further.
He cocked a ginger eyebrow. “That choice is hers to make. If he makes her happy, then that is all a father wants for his child.” Uncle Charles reached over and squeezed her hand, a sign of affection that he rarely showed.
“I wish you happiness as well. You are part of the family, and you deserve to take your place in society. I bid you not let your pride get in the way.”
Her uncle stood, and she craned her neck to look at him. Mrs. Smith continued to watch from her place in the back of the room.
“I will leave you and Hoxton to talk.” Uncle Charles walked toward the door but stopped at the last moment, cutting the tension in the room. “Should you refuse his offer, you are on your own.”
Her hopes were dashed at his last statement, and she bit back a sob. Hoxton took her uncle’s vacated seat, his expression grave, but fury blazed in his eyes. “That was unduly harsh.”
“It was indeed.” She drank in the sight of Hoxton.
Her uncle had given her no choice but to say yes or be thrown out on the street.
She’d seen the seedy side of London and wasn’t na?ve to the future of a woman without protection.
If she didn’t go, Brandon’s position might remain in jeopardy, and she couldn’t risk that.
“If you are truly opposed to marrying me, you can say no. Your cousin already has. She said she wanted to save you from scandal.” His jaw ticking, he settled his elbows on his knees.
The scent of his soap and wool drifted to her, a pleasant and familiar smell that incited her passions. If she married him, he would bed her. Goosebumps skittered along her skin, the sensations rioting inside her core.
Mrs. Smith lifted the viscount’s discarded glass from the side table where he’d left it, her presence adding to Serena’s apprehension. If the countess even got a hint that Serena was keen on marrying Hoxton, there was no telling what mayhem she’d cause.
“I am out of options.”
“Then you will marry me?” Hoxton glanced down, shifting his injured foot and flexing his ankle, wincing.
“I don’t think I have much choice.” She wanted to refuse on principle. For her entire life, she had been pitied, and as much as she’d like to think he wanted to marry her for love, she wouldn’t delude herself.
By the way he avoided looking at her, she’d insulted him with her answer. “Then it is settled,” he said. “I have already petitioned for a special license with your uncle’s urging. It will be ready tomorrow.” Hoxton stood before she could say anything else, his back ramrod straight.
“So soon?” Serena asked, a thrill coursing through her until she reminded herself that he wasn’t doing this of his own free will but for the sake of propriety.
The muscle under his hard jaw jumped. “As generous as your uncle has been, I don’t wish for you to be living under this roof with that woman for another minute more than necessary.”
Serena allowed him to help her to her feet, her nerves stretched taut.
He lifted her chin with his finger, and their eyes met.
“I know this isn’t what either of us planned, but the sooner this is behind us, the better.”
She stepped away from him, his flat delivery even worse than had he yelled at her. “I agree.”
Her time at Clarkingham Manor had ended, but an uncertain future stretched before her. She’d marry Hoxton out of scandal, and everyone would be gossiping about her. Serena had avoided attention for her entire life, and now she’d be the center of it as the new Duchess of Hoxton.