A Wedding Wager by Jane Feather Page A

Could they have set their sights there? It was an intriguing idea but surely impossible. Sebastian would never consider such a misalliance. He was by no means a high stickler for convention, but there were some things a man of his lineage just did not do.

Chapter Five

    “No, this won’t do. Help me take this off, Bridget.” Serena regarded her image in the glass with a frown of distaste. She had liked the lavender silk sacque gown when she had first put it on, it still flowed in graceful folds around her tall, slender figure, but now the color didn’t seem right. It seemed to make her look sallow, and where it ordinarily accentuated the color of her eyes, it seemed this morning to make them appear dull.
    Her maid helped her out of the gown, hanging it up again in the armoire. “Which will you wear, then, my lady?”
    Serena leaned over Bridget’s shoulder to flick through the contents of the armoire. Even when the general had less than two pennies to rub together, Serena’s wardrobe was always at the forefront of fashion. It was considered a necessary business expense.
    “The green and white muslin over the green satin petticoat,” she decided at last, casting a glance at the clock on the mantel. It was already eleven o’clock, and her rendezvous with Sebastian was at noon.
    It was quite a simple gown as prevailing fashion went, the sleeves banded in dark green velvet at the elbow, delicate falls of lace ending just above her wrists. The pale muslin overskirt opened over a dramatic dark green silk underskirt. The décolletage was edged with a deep lace collar, and a dainty white fichu tied just above her breasts gave the impression of modesty.
    She surveyed her reflection anew, eyes narrowed, head tilted slightly. It would have to do.
    “Will you wear the dark green cloth mantle, my lady? It’s quite chilly out, and it would look very well with the gown,” Bridget suggested rather tentatively.
    Serena turned and smiled. “Oh, forgive me, Bridget. I’m being a miserable, irritable cat this morning. I didn’t sleep well. Yes, the green mantle will be perfect.” She hadn’t slept well, but then, she often didn’t these days. It had nothing to do with the upcoming meeting with Sebastian, or so she told herself.
    The maid draped the short, hooded cloak over her shoulders, fastened the jet button at the throat, and handed Serena her dark green kidskin gloves, a perfect match for her heeled shoes. “You look beautiful, Lady Serena.” Her eyes widened with admiration.
    “And you’re very sweet to say so.” Serena gave the young girl a kiss. “If General Heyward asks for me, tell him I will be back later this afternoon.”
    “Should I tell him where you’re going, ma’am?”
    “How could you, my dear? You don’t know,” Serena said with a smile. “Would you have a bath prepared forme this evening, before dinner? And I will wear the ivory silk.”
    “Yes, my lady.” Bridget curtsied as Serena hurried from the room.
    She walked quickly to St. James’s Place, where Margaret’s footman opened the door at her knock. “Mrs. Standish told us to expect you, Lady Serena. Refreshments will be served to you and your guest when you wish for it.” He took Serena’s mantle and gloves as he spoke, then walked ahead of her upstairs to Margaret’s parlor.
    The room was immediately welcoming. A fire burned in the grate; decanters of sherry, madeira, and claret were arrayed on the sideboard; fresh flowers bloomed on windowsills and side tables; fresh candles only awaited flint and tinder.
    Serena looked around appreciatively but couldn’t help the wry thought that it was a veritable love nest, exactly as Margaret intended it to be. In Margaret’s eyes, a rendezvous was a rendezvous, after all, and anything could happen. But then, she didn’t know the history behind this meeting.
    Serena wondered for a moment if Sebastian would get the wrong idea but quickly dismissed the thought. He was still far too hurt and