Smiling at the thought of the handsome baronet she loved, she pulled off her dressing gown and slid into bed. She closed her eyes on a prayer for the mistletoe’s blessing.
***
The day was sunny and warm, although in the way of dreams, snow lay thick on the ground. Serena, walking alone along the path to St. Lawrence’s, opened the heavy church door that squeaked in her dreams as it squeaked in life, and stepped into the cool, scented dimness of the vestibule. Before her, a tall man in a hat and formal black coat stood with his back to her. Above him hung the kissing bough, a large ball of mistletoe woven with red and gold ribbon and decorated with apples and green holly.
Music played in the distance. Harps and violins.
Happiness flooded her as she paused in the arched entrance. Glancing down, she saw without surprise that she was dressed for her wedding. When she came in, she hadn’t been carrying anything, but now she clasped
a pretty bouquet of white roses.
With a light step, she walked toward the man who was yet to look in her direction. At her approach, those impressive shoulders straightened. A triumphant smile curled her lips. Everything she’d ever wanted was coming true. At last.
She was to become Lady Garside, wife to wonderful Paul.
Serena extended one hand to touch the man she was about to marry. “Paul?” she murmured, her joy reaching a crescendo along with the music.
Her heart thumped with wild excitement as her bridegroom slowly turned to face her. She raised her eyes to meet a smiling blue gaze.
And everything crashed into disaster.
The man’s eyes were dark brown, almost black. Instead of seeing Paul’s clean-cut features, she stared aghast into a saturnine face with slashing cheekbones and a broken nose. Thick brows added a devilish air. A sensual, cynical mouth twisted in the mocking smile that always made her itch to slap it away.
“You!” she spat, lurching back.
“Indeed,” Giles Farraday, Lord Hallam, drawled.
That deep voice echoed in her ears when she jerked up against her pillows in gasping horror.
What madness was this? She was meant to marry Paul, not his sarcastic, annoying friend, the Marquess of Hallam. Good heavens, she wasn’t even sure she liked Giles. She hated how he watched her, as though he saw past her outward poise to the wild, headstrong girl inside. If it was her choice, she wouldn’t have him to stay at Torver. But he’d been a regular visitor since his schooldays. And when the young Serena had asked her mother not to invite the quiet, dark-haired boy, she’d promptly received a scolding for lack of charity.
Giles Farraday was an orphan. His parents had died in India, and he had no family to go to at Christmas. He and Paul had been great friends since they’d met at Eton, although she’d never understood why. Paul was beautiful and golden, an Apollo. Giles was dark and difficult, a Vulcan or a Hades. Giles’s humor leaned toward the black, while Paul’s was unfailingly sunny.
With a choked growl of disappointment and anger, she ripped the mistletoe from beneath her pillow and flung it to the floor.
She should know better than to trust in old wives’ tales.
Chapter 1
Serena still felt out of sorts the next afternoon, when the carriages rolled up to Torver House to disgorge the Christmas guests. A fortnight of family and friends and fun lay ahead. Or so she told herself as she trudged downstairs to join her parents on the wide front stairs, where they waited to welcome the visitors. The house was set on a rise above the train of vehicles making their way along the winding drive.
The day was fine and cold, with a pale, wintry sun in a pale, wintry sky. Beside her, her ebullient, gray-haired father was almost incandescent with anticipation. There was nothing Sir George loved better than this yearly gathering of Talbot connections. Her mother, a more contained personality than her father, looked equally pleased in her serene way.
First to bound up the stairs toward Serena was her brother Frederick, tall, dark and exuberant like their father. Followed by Serena’s older sisters Belinda and Mary with their families, and a horde of aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends.
By the time everyone shifted into the great hall for spiced wine and gingerbread, the air resounded with laughter and squeals of excitement. Gangs of children chased each other through the cavernous room hung with boughs of Christmas greenery, and various dogs added to the mayhem.
Serena found refuge from the cheerful chaos beside the hearth, where the Yule log blazed. Most years, she loved this explosion of life in a house that had become sadly quiet since her sisters married and her brother took up residence in London. But now, a headache nagged at her, and she couldn’t help wishing that the children weren’t quite so ecstatic to see their cousins.
“Serena, are you all right?” Mary asked, coming up beside her.
Serena forced a smile. “Fine.”
Searching gray eyes, so like her own, leveled on her. “You don’t seem yourself.”
She didn’t feel like herself, but even to this, her favorite sister, she couldn’t confess the details of last night’s unsettling dream. Anyway, what was there to confess?
A footman opened the main doors to some latecomers, distracting Mary. To Serena’s relief.