The Duchess And The Dragon Part 21

"Of course not!" Drake calmed his tone. "You, my dear, were not planned at all." He took a deep breath and told them about the man who had tried to blackmail him-the man who Drake believed had fallen to his death from the edge of the railing. Drake watched Richard's face for the expected revulsion, but instead found only sad understanding. Then Drake described his flight to America and his meeting with Serena.

Serena had lowered herself to sit next to Richard. "What happened to make thee decide to bring us back to London and go through with this plan?"

Drake's hand formed a fist by his side. "I was a failure in America. I couldn't do anything well, not smithing, not farming. Serena, I was dying inside a little more every day. Couldn't you tell?"

She offered a slow nod. "I knew thou wert restless, unhappy even. I have never seen thee as happy as when we came to London."

Drake nodded, stood and paced. "When I finally read the letter, I realized all was not lost, that we didn't have to just survive there in the wilderness." He looked into Serena's eyes, willing her to understand. "I realized that with a little deception, I could give you the world-my world. The one I knew I could succeed at. The one I was ruler of. Serena, I did it for you and for our children."

"No. For thyself, Drake." Her words burst out, suddenly fierce. "I was happy a farmer's wife."

Drake moved to squat in front of her. Taking her limp hands into his, he looked deep into her eyes. "Were you? Why then did you not marry Christopher?"

SERENA INHALED AS his meaning drove into her.

Why hadn't she married Christopher? Her words claimed one thing, but all of her actions proved another. Thinking back, she was suddenly heartsick. Once the shock of discovering her husband's true position had worn off, she had secretly delighted to learn she was a d.u.c.h.ess. She had been living in an excited hum ever since meeting Drake-it was like being intoxicated all of the time, only reliant on excitement instead of a bottle of spirits. Drake made her feel alive and somehow free. Being a plain Quaker woman was never what she really wanted. Drake had awakened her, awakened all her dreams beyond that simple life. She'd hungered after the forbidden fruit, she'd eaten it, and now she knew . . . she knew the good and evil that was within her.

The shock of those thoughts had her head spinning and her mouth tightly closed. One question, though, screamed in her mind: Had Drake consulted her before leaving for England, would she have agreed to his plan? She hadn't wasted any time helping him escape when she thought he would be tried for a murderer.

Richard rose and handed Serena a gla.s.s of water. "Drake, I believe she has had enough shock for now. It's not good for her condition, you know."

"Her . . . her condition?" Drake frowned, looking at her.

She met his startled gaze. "I had hoped to tell thee later. But thou wilt be happy to know that thy plan is nearly carried through." She couldn't help the bitterness that crept into her voice. "I am with child." She didn't know what response she had expected, but his whole face lighting with genuine joy had certainly not been one of them.

"Are you certain? When did you know? Do you feel faint? Women faint when they are pregnant, do they not?"

He was gus.h.i.+ng. The bold, proud Duke of Northumberland . . . was gus.h.i.+ng.

Serena stared at him, marveling at how he looked without the usual veneer of control that always stole the joy from his face. She smiled, unable to ruin the moment with all her misgivings. "I am sure and I am fine. I may not faint, but be careful treading near me in the mornings. I may retch upon thy shoes."

He smiled, the usual steel of his eyes softened and bluer. "I will make it right. Somehow . . . I promise."

"How can it be made right?"

"I will go to the king and tell the truth."

"The truth?" Even that didn't seem enough to untangle such a web of deception. "The world thinks me thy stepmother. Will think this babe thy brother or sister."

"You will be risking your neck if you tell the king all you've done." Richard's tone sounded as anxious as Serena felt. "The king will not take this lightly."

Drake nodded and then sat next to Serena and gripped her hands. "I won't lie to you again, Serena. Telling the truth means changing our lives. At best, the scandal will be . . . monstrous. I . . . we . . . will a.s.suredly be banished from polite society. I may lose everything-the t.i.tle, all the estates, the wealth. I may lose my life and leave you to raise our child alone." He gripped her hands. "We must risk everything to tell the truth."

She stared at him, unable to answer or put to words the churning thoughts within her. All she knew was the full force of the price of loving him. "Thou hast decided, then."

Drake nodded, solemn but firm. "It is the only way. I will throw myself on the mercy of the king-" his eyes looked up at the ceiling-"and the mercy of G.o.d. And we will hope, Serena. Hope that it will work toward our good. Can you stand with me in this?"

She felt his conviction down into the innermost parts of her, despite her anger, despite her hurt. Something had changed him, and as she looked into those blue eyes, everything in her urged her to say yes. To walk this path out with him.

Yet she was afraid. Her eyes, once opened, could not close again in blessed innocence. What had she done, trying to nail down to an ordinary life such a man as this?

"Yes. We will tell the truth."

And, G.o.d help me, live with the consequences.

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Serena stood in the hush of the anteroom to the council chamber of King George II, staring at a painting of a hunting scene without really seeing it. She and Drake had left immediately, traveling back to London and the justice of a volatile king. Drake spent several days getting his affairs in order and attempting to provide something for Serena should the worst happen.

Today, a bare week after returning to London, he had received his summons to attend the king. And he had gone eagerly, ready to make known to the world that he was little more than an illegitimate son of a third son of a duke. He went knowing he could be facing death, and yet, to Serena's amazement, he seemed at peace.

It was a peace Serena credited to G.o.d. In the past weeks, Drake shared his heart and all that happened to him while hearing George Whitefield speak. They went everyday to hear the young preacher and Serena too had experienced a new birth. Had given herself up fully to G.o.d.

But still, she was afraid. Was this new Drake someone she could trust? His motives seemed so pure these days, and yet she felt she didn't even know him. Tears started to well up, blurring the painting.

"Dash this pregnancy!"

She wiped her tears away. Now was not the time for weeping. She must be strong. This meeting was about to dictate the course of their lives. She took a shuddering breath, readying to stand beside her husband, no matter what he deserved. Later, if he escaped this horrid tangle with his life intact, then she would consider their future and how she must proceed. Staring at the painting, she muttered the prayer that had become a salve to her mind: "Please, G.o.d, have mercy on my husband."

The minutes dragged by, her pulse racing and then slowing so that she thought she might need to sit down. The room was nearly empty, many of the members of court purportedly out on the green viewing a flock of swans recently brought in from Germany for the king's pleasure. Serena was glad. What little she knew of court life was intimidating in the best of circ.u.mstances. The questions and looks and behind-the-hand whispers had the room been crowded would have been excruciating.

DRAKE WAITED IN the growing silence.

He had stated his case, told of Ivor's will and his plan to prepare Drake for the dukedom and then destroy the man he had raised as son. He told the king that he believed himself to be the son of Lord Richard Weston and produced the letter as evidence. And then Drake told His Royal Highness of his own diabolical plot to take back that which he'd believed stolen from him.

Finally, he asked the king for mercy, explaining that his Quaker wife was with child and his only desire now was to be a good husband and father and somehow provide for them in his homeland of Northumberland.

The king sat thinking and staring at Drake with beady eyes. Drake felt the hardness of his chair, his body straining to stand and pace.

"Your father-Ivor, that is-was a rascal and a liar." The king's statement carried sudden heat. "He and Robert Walpole had more than one fierce battle. Ha! But you-you have tread on the sanct.i.ty of the law and acted with vile greed."

Drake nodded, but kept his mouth safely closed. I will not defend my actions. I am in Your hands, G.o.d.

The king peered at him intently, and Drake felt a trickle of sweat run down his back.

"I shall have to consider what will be done with you. In the meantime, it would please us to see you consider your ways in the tower."

Drake bowed low. "In the tower, my sovereign." The words repeated themselves in his mind, numb but ringing. "Is there anything I can add to my defense?"

The king waved him away. "I have heard enough for today." He turned to the guard at the door behind him. "Have this man escorted to the tower." The bellowed order echoed about them.

Drake stood, shaking, and felt the guard grasp his upper arm and pull him toward the door, felt the newfound, untried foundation of faith waver, felt the old self rear its protective head to be noticed.

Upon entering the anteroom, Serena's terror-filled gaze slammed into him, and again he felt the blow of his betrayal and its consequences.

"A moment with my wife," he begged the guard.

The man turned indifferent eyes upon him, then nodded, letting go of Drake and summoning additional guards to do the actual transport.

Drake hurried to her side, taking up her hands in a tight clasp. "It's not the worst yet, my love. The king wants to consider the matter and is having me bide my time in the tower until a decision is made. You must pray . . . and wait. I will not see you again until the matter is settled."

Serena looked up into his eyes, tears glittering. "I had not thought of this. I thought at the least we would know."

Drake nodded. "Nor I." Two guards were coming toward him. "I love you."

The men grasped his arms, escorting him away.

"Yes," she managed back, though the word was tight with sobs. "Yes!"

SERENA TOOK A deep, fortifying breath and opened the door, leaving the sanctuary of the quiet walls of the townhouse. She knew what awaited her in the society of London. She had endured their scorn, their accusing or pitying stares for the past twenty days and she would endure it again today.

Liddell, her driver, a burly man who looked and acted more a guard, helped her into the carriage. At least there had not been anyone waiting outside her door. Many days she'd had to fight through the press of the curious and scornful to traverse the path to her carriage. So many seemed glad to see one of Drake's cla.s.s receive their comeuppance. She hadn't allowed it to stop her, though. Every day she went to the palace and requested audience with the king. And every day she was turned away.

She stared out the window at the now-familiar streets, the shops and houses, as they crossed London, a city she had never dreamed she would ever see.

"Why me?" she whispered aloud. She talked to G.o.d often these days, almost exclusively. She sought Him as she had never known she could, and she knew deep within her one thing: She must fight for Drake's life. It was her destiny to be his help and his hope . . . his pet.i.t chevalier, as he'd called her so long ago. If she never did another thing for him for the rest of her days, she would know that she had carried out her mission on earth concerning Drake Weston.

They swung up to the entrance where the guards tipped their tall hats at her with something like respect from their stolid posture. She nodded at them, no longer fearful in the familiarity of such routine.

The anteroom was also well-known, now crowded with members of the ton. Here, too, Serena rarely found a friendly face or heard an encouraging word. They all seemed hungry for the downfall of one of England's greatest. Serena knew they hated what Drake had done, making them believe he was someone worthy of their respect because he held the t.i.tle of duke. She knew they remembered how they had acquiesced to him and could only imagine how bitter that memory must be now. They'd bent their frame to an illegitimate son.

Albert and a friend or two of Drake's were sometimes present to lend her support, but as she looked around she realized none were present today.

That suited Serena's mood. Today she felt the stirrings of a battle within her. Her eyes swept over the people of the room, flas.h.i.+ng in her conviction, silencing a few and challenging others. With regal ease-learned from Drake, yes, but rooted more in the rightness of her mission-she approached the king's inner chamber.

"I would request audience with the king." She stated it in a firm voice to the standing guard, ignoring the vicious chuckles in the background.

He nodded, as he had nodded to her every day. "Yes, my lady."

She wandered away from the door, toward a window alcove. The request could take some time to issue, so she sat on a cus.h.i.+on and closed her eyes, blocking the room and focusing her attention on the only other thing that mattered these days: her baby. As she thought of the babe inside her, she placed one hand on the small mound hidden beneath her voluminous skirt, drawing comfort and strength. The warm sunlight filtered through the tall window at her back, warming her with its intensity, relaxing her with its heat. Suddenly, she felt movement. A fluttering on the inside of her like a leaping heart, but lower, deep in her belly. She smiled with the joy of it. She had never felt the babe move before.

"Something funny, Serena?"

The voice cut into her dream world, and her eyes fluttered open and focused on Lady Chamberlain's smirking face.

Serena dropped her hand, not wanting to reveal her pregnancy. Drake had told the king of their situation, but she did not think the entire court had learned of it. Just as well. She could withstand their scorn but didn't want any of it to sully their child.

When she didn't immediately answer, Lady Chamberlain lifted her chin. "I would not think you would have anything to smile about, my dear. Such a tragedy your life has turned out to be."

Serena didn't want to use any of her resources crossing verbal swords with this woman and so only nodded. "As you say," she returned with gentle dignity, borrowing the phrase from her husband.

The woman huffed and, thankfully, strode away.

A commotion at the door gained the crowd's attention. Voices could be heard inside the king's chamber. The guard searched for and found Serena's gaze. With a hand he beckoned her forward.

"The king will see you now," he murmured when she reached him. She could feel those behind her straining to hear every word.

"Very good." She gave a confident nod, then swept into the chamber, a richly appointed room that she had never been allowed to see before. As she did so, the strange, confident fight stirred within her.

The king sat on a raised dais, upon a throne of gold. The chair beside him was empty, but the king's advisors and attendants stood about him in differing postures. Serena approached the throne and immediately sank into a perfect curtsy. She waited, as she had been taught, for the king's permission to rise.

When it came, she stood silent while the king studied her. She knew she looked fine, being dressed every morning in the elaborate manner of full-court dress. She was accustomed to the styles now and felt more natural in them.

"You are a most persistent wench."

Serena dipped her head at the king's forceful comment. "My cause is great, Your Highness."

"Well, I can see why he married you. The talk of your beauty was not exaggerated."

He seemed to be talking to himself in the matter and Serena remained perfectly still.

"I suppose you have come to beg for your husband's life, eh?"

Serena again nodded. "With thy permission, I would like to put the begging into words, sire."

He chuckled and waved his hand at her. "Yes, yes, go on."

She had practiced what she would say, but as she opened her mouth, new words sprang to life. "When I first met Drake Weston, he was not a duke. He was barely alive and a haunted man. I did not understand at the time the demons he fought, but in the time since, I have become intimately acquainted with those demons. They are the ones who say a man's worth is based on the status of his birth, not his character or being one of G.o.d's creation. Drake suffered from the belief that without his position in society, he was as nothing."

She took a breath. "Sire, I have not known n.o.bles and kings before now, but I have known n.o.ble men. My father is one such man, and even though he is to the world a silversmith, I must tell thee that there is no other man on earth that I would value as highly as a worthy man and friend." She allowed a little smile, then paused. The king smiled back, though whether from being drawn into her words or from the shock of them she didn't know. Still the action bolstered her courage.

She sank to her knees. "My husband, Drake Weston, may no longer be a duke, a member of n.o.bility by birth, but please hear me say that through his trials he has faced his demons and become a n.o.ble man. Sire, I plead mercy on his behalf. Please spare his life."

The king studied her, his face stern. "As you have so little admiration for the n.o.bility, I a.s.sume you plead only for his life."

"Yes."

He paused, steepling his hands to his chin, and then smiled, a mischievous light in his eyes. "Yes, yes," he nodded to himself. "Lady Weston, you have suffered much through this ordeal. I understand he lied to you, and you only recently learned of this will and the plot to outmaneuver it-" the king waved his hand in circles-"etcetera, etcetera." He paused, letting the moment loom over them. "If the choice were yours, what punishment would you give your husband?"

Serena paused, hearing the suspended breath in the room. She knew that to all present she was only a commoner. What the king had just asked was unheard of. She opened her mouth to answer as she knew Drake would want her to answer, taking full advantage of the opportunity for reinstatement, and then found she could not say what was not in her heart.

"I wish to live in Bristol, by the sea, as it reminds me of my home in Philadelphia. I wish to raise our children together, near their grandfather, whom I have grown to love and respect. I wish my husband to do what he has told me is now in his heart: to help the miners and their children and bring reform to laws that allow such innocents to work in appalling conditions. I would not ask for t.i.tles or wealth, sire, just the opportunity to live out our lives together."

There was a flutter of activity and excited voices when she ended her impa.s.sioned speech, but the king silenced all with a raised hand. His eyes seemed to pierce into her, seeking to burn away any untruth.

"And do you think this would be Drake's request, if given the choice?

Serena couldn't lie. "Nay, sire. I think he might prefer death to such a quiet life as I've described."

The king laughed again, long and loud. Waving over a tall man in a green velvet costume, he commanded. "See that it is done exactly as Mrs. Weston requested. I have a feeling she is aright, and this will be more of a punishment than death." With that he dismissed her.