She had finished with the decorator an hour ago, and felt satisfied that all visible traces of Ravenna Clayborne would be erased within a week. Still, it galled her to reside in a room so reminiscent of Lucien’s first wife. But being here alone was entirely preferable to supping with her infuriating but sexy husband—the man who had sworn to invade her bed tonight. Looking at the food on her plate, she swept it about with her fork. Why had Cyrus wanted her to wed Clayborne after his demise? She could never ask her late husband now, but she resented his schemes. And him. He had left her a widow, without clues, without reasons, and had all but given her to an autocratic bully who desired her body, yet thought her little better than a common doxy. While Lucien had infuriated her by making her the talk of the town, he also had the disquieting ability to disintegrate her resistance with a single kiss. What the devil was she going to do? Serena considered explaining that Cyrus had asked her to take a lover in the hopes of conceiving, but her late husband had been embarrassed by his impotency, and she couldn’t desecrate his memory.
