The Temptation of Lady Serena by Ella Quinn

found each other. Papa bought Shamir but never rode him. I was in the stables one day when he was kicking his stall. The grooms were unable to calm him. Yet he settled immediately for me.”
    Serena turned to face Lord Beaumont. He looked at her with those beautiful green eyes. Her hands trembled on the reins.
    He seemed thoughtful for a few moments. “I’ve heard of horses that choose their masters. You must be very special.”
    Her mouth dried. She’d driven with other gentlemen and spent time talking to them, but she’d never had trouble breathing. If she didn’t leave soon, she was going to make a fool of herself. “I must go now. Thank you for your company, my lord.”
    He bowed to her gracefully, a difficult maneuver on horseback. “Until we meet again, my lady.”
    She broke his gaze. “Yes, until we meet again.”
    Serena trotted toward the gate, but her heart yearned to remain. It was all she could do to keep herself from looking back over her shoulder to see if he still watched her.
     
    Beaumont stared at Serena as she rode away. Where was his vaunted charm when he needed it? Robert sucked in a breath, picturing Lady Serena’s long auburn hair curling over her creamy shoulders, her head thrown back for him as he nibbled and placed feather-soft kisses on her jaw and neck. His body clenched in desire and need.
    By God, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She’d employed no arts to attract him, yet he craved her. He didn’t even know if Lady Serena was happy to see him. Until the end of their ride, when he held her gaze, she’d barely lifted her eyes to his. Was she interested in him at all?
    He should have been able to draw her into conversation. Lord, he was losing his touch. It was then that it dawned on him that spending time with Lady Serena wasn’t going to end his torment. Every time he saw her, he wanted her more.
    Damn. He whirled Démon around and thundered back down the track.
    Upon returning home, he wreaked havoc on his desk, searching for the invitations to St. Eth and Evesham’s balls.
    “Charles!” He strode down the corridor to his secretary’s office. “Have you seen an invitation to St. Eth’s ball?”
    “Yes, my lord.” His secretary glanced up warily. “I was about to deny you.”
    “No, accept it.” Beaumont ignored Charles’s incredulous expression and paced. “When is it?”
    Charles picked up the gilt-edged card. “In three days.”
    “I should have a card to Evesham’s ball as well. Do I have any other invitations?”
    “Nothing out of the usual, my lord. Lady Remington is having a soiree—”
    No others? Of course not. He hadn’t been to a ton event in years, but those are the parties Lady Serena would attend. How could he start receiving the right sort of cards again? “Send my excuses to Lady R. and accept St. Eth.”
    His secretary tapped the papers on his desk, before asking hesitantly, “My lord, I have no wish to seem impertinent, but are you feeling quite the thing?”
    “Charles,” Beaumont glowered. “If you care at all for me—or for your position—you will not again mention my health.”
     
    Charles smiled. If he didn’t know better he’d suspect Lord Beaumont had a tendre for some lady. Interesting. Charles had been in Beaumont’s employ for seven years. His lordship had never been so testy, and Beaumont hated ton events.
    Hearing voices, Charles entered the hall to find Henley, Lord Beaumont’s valet, and Finster in conversation.
    “Mr. Mariville,” Henley asked, “has his lordship seemed a bit surly of late?”
    Apparently, Charles wasn’t the only one who’d noticed a change. “Why, what’s happened?”
    “Well, normally I would never mention it, however, this morning he bit off my nose simply for asking if he would dine at his club.” Henley sniffed. “I’ve been his lordship’s valet since he came upon Town, and he has never been churlish before.”
    Finster cut in. “I have been in service with the