Page 74 of A Kiss Of Lies

Rage roared in Christian’s head. Images of Serena and this man in bed possessed him. His stomach rioted with nausea. It took all his self-control not to leap across his desk and thrash Dennett senseless, but that would give the game away.

“Mr. Dennett, there is no call for that tone. Lord Markham is a gentleman, and if he says Serena is not here, then we must take his word for it.” Hadley had finally come to his aid. “After all, it is not Lord Markham’s fault you have, ah, misplaced your wife.”

Christian almost smiled.

Dennett’s face grew purple with rage. “I should simply take his word because he is a gentleman?” he spat.

“Well, as a gentleman, I should be asking you how you came to lose your wife in the first place. What would make her want to leave you, run from you, hide from you—attempt to kill you? Perhaps your wife did not find the nights as pleasurable as you did, Dennett.” Christian’s voice was cold.

Dennett’s companions held him back as Dennett lunged at Christian. “You son of a bitch! You have Serena and I’m not leaving here without her, even if I have to tear this place apart stone by stone. Bring her to menow.” Dennett was ranting, mad, a man possessed by uncontrollable rage.

In a dangerously quiet voice Christian said, “You will take your men and leave this house immediately. My patience has ended. I’ve said Serena is not here. My word is all that matters in this house.”

As if on cue, the door to the study opened to reveal two further Libertine Scholars—Maitland Spencer, the Duke of Lyttelton, and Arend Aubury, Baron Labourd.

Hadley smiled. “Did I forget to mention I’d invited these gentlemen for a nightcap?”

“Can we be of service, Christian?” Maitland asked as he leaned nonchalantly against the door frame, filling it with his massive bulk.

Seeing the two men, especially Maitland, the fight left Dennett and his men. “This isn’t finished. I will have my wife,” Dennett snarled. “Serena is not yours. She belongs to me, and I’ll never let you have her. I’ll petition the Crown if I have to. There is not a court in this land that will rule against me.” Peter Dennett turned and stormed out of the study.

Hadley lagged behind, waiting until the three men had left the house. “They have no idea she’s at the Coldhurst house. I’ll follow them to see what they will do next.” He looked bleak. “This won’t end here and you know it. The law is in his favor. In their eyes, he has every right to take his wife.”

“Not if we can prove abuse, surely. Do you think that would be the honorable thing to do? Hand her back to someone from whom she fled thousands of miles, risking life and limb and reputation?” Christian held his temper in check at the unfairness of the situation, but only just. He hung his head, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation and despair. “We’ll help her fight for a divorce. We can prove his cruelty.”

Reaching the doorway, Hadley turned to Christian. He hesitated before saying, “May I give you some advice, Christian? Get Serena as far from here as possible. A man like Dennett does not fight fair. Who knows what he might do if he finds her,” and he quietly left the study.

Maitland, with his usual cool, clear logic, said, “I’ll put a discreet watch on the Coldhurst residence. We need to know if any of Dennett’s men are sniffing around. But I agree with Hadley—get Serena out of town at once. Is there somewhere you could take her where they’d not think to look?”

Christian sank into his chair, head in hands. What a mess. Fullerton was right. The law was not on his side. But in spite of that, right was.

Arend interrupted his morose thoughts. “I have a cottage near York. No one knows of it. My mother and I stayed there when we first arrived from France. I bought it years later for sentimental reasons. I never go there. You’re welcome to use it.”

How appropriate—they’d come full circle from York, Canada, to York, England. “Thank you. But how can I help her from York? I’m of more use here.” He humbled himself. “Could you take her there?” he asked Arend.

Arend Aubury was more English than French, even though he was French by birth. His family had fled the revolution when he was a child. He had a debonair presence the ladies could not resist. His dark coloring labeled him as foreign. His olive skin was highlighted by his brown hair, and his almost black eyes gave him a Mediterranean look. His heritage was there for all to see, and Christian trusted him like a brother.

Maitland spoke up before Arend could answer. “If you stay, on what grounds will you fight her case? You know the law. For women, adultery is no grounds for a divorce even if the husband does agree. As far as mistreatment is concerned, it’s his word against hers regarding his cruelty. Unless Serena can prove that her life was at risk, it will be almost impossible for her to get a divorce, particularly if Dennett does not agree.”

For one moment, Christian wanted to hit his heartless friend. He bristled like the black, short-cropped hair on Maitland’s head. Short and to the point was Maitland, there was no doubt of that. He had no idea of polite discourse, nor did he care. But Christian didn’t need the helplessness of his situation spelled out so plainly. “She can prove it with scars.”

Maitland’s cool demeanor seemed to desert him momentarily. “Scars? Bloody bastard.”

“Better idea: we’ll make her a widow.” Arend’s slight French accent sounded so evil.

Christian was sorely tempted by his suggestion but shook his head. “If I could do it in an honorable fashion, I would, but as for cold-blooded murder? That would not be principled. I’m damned if I’ll stoop to his level.” He gulped down his brandy. He jumped to his feet. “That’s it. A duel. I’ll challenge him to a duel.”

Maitland rose and pushed Christian back into his seat before going to refill his glass. “I concur. Your honorable solution is logical, since she can show he mistreated her. The world will be a better place without Dennett.”

“We need to keep her safe and hidden from Dennett until then.” A possessive fire inflamed his skin. Serena was his. She belonged to him, and he was not about to give her up to anyone, especially not to a husband who’d likely sail away to ensure she disappeared for good. He didn’t even put it past Dennett to kill her.

“Even killing Dennett honorably in a duel, Prinny will be hard pressed to pardon you. After all, Serena is Dennett’s wife, and his brother is a marquis. However, if the Prince could be persuaded that it is a question of a lady’s safety . . . Lady Serena always was one of his favorites. Besides,” he drawled, “Prinny is always in need of money, and you, Christian, have a lot of it. Hadley has secured a signed pardon for Sebastian, so let us pray that when Prinny sees Serena’s scars and hears of her treatment, a large amount of coin will soften his stance.” He shook his head. “And let us pray the Marquis is not overly fond of his brother!”

So Christian had his solution. “Damn! I should have challenged him tonight. Even if I have to flee England, I can take Serena with me, and I’ll at least save her from that monster.”

Arend burst his euphoria. “Aren’t we forgetting something? Your left shoulder does not function well and its your dominant hand. Is it your shooting arm? Has the burn damage affected your ability to hold steady and aim? What if he kills you? Then who will help Serena?”

“One of you will. Sebastian has already promised to help her.” The thought of any man with Serena cut him up inside, but if he died in this duel, he’d want to see her protected. He’d want to see her happy.

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