A Wedding Wager by Jane Feather Read Free Book Online Page B

stable, Lady Serena,” Marianne said, directing her response at her visitor. “He will procure a lady’s riding horse for Abigail, you may be sure.”
    “Then I look forward to many pleasant rides together.” Serena drew on her gloves.
    “Perhaps General Heyward would offer Mr. Sutton his advice on setting up his stable,” Marianne suggested rather tentatively. “If he’s not too busy, of course. But Mr. Sutton is not familiar with Tattersalls, and I believe that’s where one goes for buying horses.”
    “Indeed, it is, ma’am. I’ll mention it to my stepfather. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help.” She couldn’t manage to inject any enthusiasm into her voice.
    “We should be most honored to receive a call from General Heyward.” Marianne reached for the bellpull.
    Not if you know what’s good for you. Serena wanted to shout it aloud, but foiling her stepfather required cunning, not brute force. She fixed a smile on her lips and held out her hand. “Abigail, I will leave my card withyour butler. Do call on me. We shall have a comfortable chat, and you shall tell me all about the young man on the boat.”
    Abigail blushed, and Marianne said sharply, “Young Mr. Wedgwood is not in town. I’m sure he has returned to Stoke-on-Trent.”
    Serena had heard rather a lot in Brussels about the glories of the pottery towns, Stoke-on-Trent in particular. Abigail had compared her hometown very favorably to the capitals of the Continent. She offered her anodyne smile and followed the butler, who had appeared in answer to the bell, out into the hall, where her maid sat patiently awaiting her pleasure on a bench by the door. The fresh, cool air on the street was a welcome relief from the stuffy heat of the drawing room, and she breathed deeply, hoping it would clear her head of the churning turmoil of her thoughts.

Chapter Three

    Serena and her maid had walked the short distance to Bruton Street from Pickering Place, and as they turned onto Berkeley Square, Sebastian stepped away from the railings of the garden where he had been waiting, hoping she would be on foot. “Lady Serena.” He bowed with a flourish of his hat. “May I escort you?”
    “I already have an escort, sir, as you can see.” She indicated her maid, standing several paces behind her.
    His eyes narrowed. “Nevertheless, it would be my pleasure, ma’am.”
    “It would not be mine, sir.” Her heart was beating ridiculously fast despite the coolness of her tone. She had to keep him at arm’s length, had to maintain the coldness that had informed her dismissal of him three years past. Nothing had changed. And yet she could see that Sebastian had changed. The youthful softness, the almost gullible idealism that had allowed her to crush him as she had done, was missing now, and she sensed that he could not be so easily dismissed now. Itshould have alarmed her, but, perversely, it gave her a tiny thrill of excitement. To be instantly banished.
    His expression hardened, but he spoke softly so that only she could hear. “Come now, Serena, you know as well as I that we must have this out. We can’t live in the same four square miles and never bump into each other. It’s not realistic, and I, for one, am not prepared to live every day dreading that I might run into you and have to endure this ridiculous pantomime.”
    He was right, of course. And in truth, it would be a relief to clear the ground, so that they could meet as civil acquaintances. She answered as softly. “Are you still lodging in Stratton Street?”
    “Yes.”
    “I will write to you. There is somewhere we can meet in private.” Then she dropped a curtsy, raising her voice. “Another time, sir. Good day to you.”
    “Ma’am.” He bowed as she swept past him, her maid scurrying in her wake.
    Sebastian watched her go, the long, energetic stride he remembered so well. One of the things he had loved most about her was her impatience with feminine conventions. Not for Serena the