Reviews & Accolades "Ms. Beverley breaks just about every rule in the book and makes us beg for more in this enthralling love story."

~Romantic Times "FORBIDDEN is a delight to read. Any woman would be able to understand Serena's horror at the thought of another marriage like her first, and her inability to trust Francis in the beginning."

~Romance Reviews Today "n.o.body does Regency better than Jo Beverley, and this latest tale adds to the argument that she may just be the best."

~Rendezvous Three people sat at breakfast in the chill and dusty dining room of Grove House in Suss.e.x. The burly Allbright brothers noisily washed down rare beef with porter. Their sister, Serena Riverton, huddled in a heavy shawl nibbling toast and drinking tea whilst reading a book of poetry.

Will Allbright stared blankly into s.p.a.ce as he chewed and slurped, but his older brother, Tom, muttered as he went through the day's post.

"Duns, duns, duns..." He tossed three letters toward the smoky fire. "Ah, this is more like it." He tore open a letter and read it greedily. "At last! Hey, Serry, Samuel Seale wants to marry you."

His sister looked up, revealing a remarkably beautiful face. "What?" Then she went pale and rose, pushing back from the table. "Oh no, Tom. I won't. I won't marry again!"

"No?" the man asked, filling his mouth with food again. "What're you going to do, then, Sister? Ply the streets?"

Serena Riverton shook her head desperately, shocked almost to witlessness by this turn of events. "I can live on the money Matthew left me."

Her younger brother Will, who was rather simple, turned to look at her. "That's already gone, Serry." He seemed surprised she didn't know, almost regretful. Serena knew better. In all their selfish lives, her two brothers had never regretted a wrong unless it got them into trouble.

In looks they were both John Bull-big, solid, ruddy-faced men in simple country clothes. They had none of John Bull's solid worth, however.

As she stood there numbly, Will shoved a final hunk of bread into his mouth and rose from the table to warm himself in front of the hearth. Having effectively blocked the spa.r.s.e heat of the fire, he pulled out a guinea and began to toss it.

Serena dazedly watched that glittering coin and tried to find a footing in all of this. "Gone?" she echoed. "How can my money be gone? My husband is only three months dead. Where can it have gone?"

But even as she spoke, she knew. Gone where all the money in this dilapidated house went. To the tables, on a roll of the dice, on the speed of a horse, on the speed-for heaven's sake-of a c.o.c.kroach!

She tore her eyes from Will's coin to glare at Tom. "That's blatant thievery!"

He forked up another lump of red beef. "Going to put the Runners onto me, Serry? 'Twouldn't do you a maggot of good. There's no getting blood from stones."

Stones, thought Serena wildly. That's what they were. As heartless as stones, and as stupid.

"You couldn't have lived on it anyway," said Will. Flick, spin, catch. Flick, spin catch.... "Three thousand? Loose change, that's what three thousand is."

Tom grunted agreement. "Who'd have thought Riverton'd go through his fortune like that? We expected you to be a rich widow, Serry, or we'd have never been so keen to get you home again. Three thousand'd hardly keep you in gowns." His small eyes roamed over her very expensive russet cloth dress.

It was expertly cut-as she knew only too well-to display her figure, but she hadn't expected to be looked at like that by one of her brothers.

Serena clutched her heavy wool shawl around her for protection. "It would keep me in gowns very well," she said through her teeth. "I'm sure it's beyond your comprehension, Brothers, but it is possible to live a decent life on the mere interest of three thousand pounds."

"It'd be a d.a.m.ned dull one," said Will in amiable incomprehension. "You wouldn't want that, Serry."

Serena stalked forward and s.n.a.t.c.hed his spinning guinea out of the air. "Yes I would, Will." She turned on Tom. "I want my money back. If you don't repay me I will take you to court."

He burst out laughing, spitting food all over the table. "You need money to take someone to court, Serry, and even if you won it'd be years before the matter'd be settled. You won't get far in the meantime on Will's guinea."

"It's a start." Serena tightened her grip on the coin, but Will grabbed her wrist.

"That's my lucky piece!" She resisted, but he roughly twisted her arm until she cried out and surrendered the coin.

Serena backed away again, tears in her eyes, holding her stinging wrist. She was forcibly reminded of her brothers' bullying cruelties. She'd been fifteen when she left her home, but she remembered. Why had she thought matters would be different now she was a grown woman?

Tom saw her fear, and his eyes glinted with satisfaction. "Perhaps Seale'll pursue your rights for you, Serry."

She met his eyes. "There is no possibility of forcing me into another marriage, Tom, but especially not into a marriage with Samuel Seale."

"Don't fancy him, eh?" Tom seemed genuinely surprised. "Not a bad-looking man for his age, and rich as Croesus. All those mines, you know. Thought you'd prefer an older man like your first husband. You always seemed content."

"Content?" Serena repeated faintly, her mind dizzied by such a vast misunderstanding.

"Right-o, then," said Tom. "We'll wait for other bids."

"You will?" Serena was astonished to have won; then she took in his words. "Bids? What bids?"

Tom tapped a letter that lay open on the table beside his plate. "Seale offered ten thousand. Pretty fair, really. Father got thirty the first time round, but we won't get that now you're not a virgin."

"Thirty thousand pounds?" Serena heard her voice climb toward hysteria. "Father sold me to Matthew Riverton for thirty thousand pounds?"

"Guineas," corrected Will conscientiously, once more flicking his coin. "Towed us out of River Tick nicely at the time. Didn't you know? Course, you were only fifteen. Twitty little thing."

Serena put a hand to her head and choked back a cry. Twitty little thing. She'd realized years ago that she had been a stupid child to go so blissfully into a marriage, thinking only of new gowns and excitement, and the feather in her cap of being the first of her group to wed.

But to have been sold....

Thirty thousand pounds. No, guineas. No wonder Matthew had been enraged when she refused to dance to his tune. When she tried to refuse....

"Face facts, Serry," said Tom. "Snap up Seale. We're up to our ears in debt again, and you're not such a prize now. You've still got your looks, I'll grant you that, but your maidenhead's gone. And most men want a wife with a dowry and the ability to give him children. You've neither."

"I had three thousand pounds," she said bitterly, but it was the other that struck like a blow.

Barren. She was barren. As if it were yesterday, she remembered the doctor making that p.r.o.nouncement like a hanging judge. And she remembered Matthew's rage. "Barren! What plaguey use is a barren wife? Especially one that takes no pleasure in bed-work!"

His treatment of her had changed from that point on. For the first few years of the marriage he had merely been rough and careless of her feelings. After the doctor's verdict, however, he had started to demand more, to demand services that went far beyond her marital duties.

If Serena could bear children she might re-marry for that joy, but since she could not, she would never again enter such a state of legalized bondage.

But if she was penniless, what was she to do?

What could she do?

At the very least she had to leave this room before she gave her brothers the satisfaction of seeing her in tears.

She turned blindly to the door, managing the words, "The answer is still no, Tom, so you can cancel the slave auction."

For all his size, Tom was quick on his feet. He reached the door ahead of her and thumped it shut in her face with a beefy hand. "You weren't asked, Serry. You were told." His eyes, closed in with rolls of fat, fixed her malevolently.

Serena wanted to hit him, to tear at his piggy eyes, but she was small and her brothers were big and brutal. "You can't do it!" she protested. "I'm not fifteen any more, Tom. I'm twenty-three and able to make my own choices."

"Don't be stupid."

"It is you who is being stupid! It's no longer possible to take a bride to the altar bound, and I'll go no other way."

"Don't be stupid," Tom repeated flatly. "If you give me any trouble, I'll sell you to a brothel. I'd get at least a monkey for you."

Serena swayed, knowing he spoke the plain truth.

He opened the door with a parody of courtesy. "I'll tell you when the bidding's done."

Serena walked numbly through and the heavy oak slammed shut behind. She heard her brothers laugh.

She fled to her room. Twitty, twitty, twitty. It rang in her head. She'd thought her eight years of marriage, years of slavery, years of horror, had at least taught her something, made her wiser. But here she was, a twit again.

She'd been so relieved, though, so incredulously elated when Tom had brought the news of her husband's death that she'd not stopped to think. She had simply packed her belongings and returned immediately with Tom to her family home. She hadn't given a thought to legal matters. It hadn't even distressed her when she'd learned that Matthew had gone through nearly all his vast fortune.

What did money matter?

She was free.

Matthew would never again descend on Stokeley Manor and demand she play the wh.o.r.e for him. He'd never again punish her for refusing some intolerable indignity.

She was free.

Now she paced her chilly room, wringing her hands, trying to decide what to do. She would not lose that freedom.

Samuel Seale. She closed her eyes in horror. Another like her husband. A big, coa.r.s.e man, gone fifty and deep in depravity. And she suspected Seale had the pox. At least Matthew had not had the pox.

She stopped her pacing, gripping a bed-post to halt the pointless movement. She must do something.

What?

Flee.

Yes, she must go. Go somewhere.

Where?

Her mind scrabbled for a refuge and found none.

There were few relatives, and none she'd trust to protect her from her brothers. During her marriage, her husband had kept her a virtual prisoner at Stokeley in Lincolnshire. She'd not even been permitted to mix with the local gentry, though truth to tell, few would have been willing to socialize with anyone from Stokeley Manor. No, there was no help to be found there.

She went back in her mind, seeking a friend. Back to innocence. To her school days.

Miss Mallory.

Serena had attended Miss Mallory's School in Cheltenham. She had been taken straight from there to her wedding. That small school had been her last place of security and innocent pleasures. She remembered Miss Emma Mallory as a firm but kindly autocrat, and a staunch believer in women's rights. Surely Miss Mallory would help her.

If Serena could reach her.

It was a long way from Suss.e.x to Gloucestershire.

Money. She needed money.

A search of her room turned up two pound notes, a guinea and a few smaller coins. Not enough. Where else could she find money?

Even when in debt, her careless brothers left coins about. She'd find them.

Clothes.

She had begun to pack a valise when she realized that it would be impossible to leave the house carrying anything without raising suspicions. She began to replace the garments in the clothes press. It was terrible to be fleeing with only the clothes on her back, but all in all, she would be pleased to abandon her wardrobe.

Every st.i.tch she owned had been chosen by Matthew in London and sent to Stokeley as the whim took him. All the garments were of the finest quality, but all were cut to show, to revel in, her figure.

Serena looked in the cheval mirror and let her shawl drop. How could russet cloth, finely trimmed, look so.... so bold? But it did. The bodice exaggerated her full bosom, the skirt was cut rather narrowly and the soft cloth shaped to her hips. Worst, though, was the perfume.

All her clothes had been drenched in it before she received them, and her maid/jailer had repeated the applications. Serena didn't know its composition, but it had nothing to do with flowers. She knew it was a wh.o.r.e's perfume, and that it had amused Matthew to make his fastidious bride stink of it.

Since Matthew's death, Serena had managed to wash the smell out of her linen and muslins, but she could not wash it from her heavier clothes without ruining them. Until her brothers released her funds she could buy no others.....

Sickly, she realized there were no more funds.

She seriously thought of dressing in one of her sweet-smelling muslins for her flight, but at this time of year it would be insanity. She did fold some underwear and stuff it into her reticule. Surely carrying a reticule would not sound the alarm.

Her jewels! Matthew had given her many items of jewelry, though even then he had managed to make them part of his degrading games. She shuddered at the memory of those ornaments, but they could be sold and they were hers.

She clenched her fists in frustration when she realized that she didn't know where her jewels were. She hadn't wanted to know, but now they represented survival.

In Tom's room?

She was suddenly consumed with urgency, fearful that her brothers would come to drag her to her wedding, or at least realize that she would flee. She grabbed her luxurious cape-camelot cloth lined with sable-grateful that it was very warm.

Another memory: it had amused Matthew to take her walking in the garden, naked under the cape, the silky fur tickling her skin, her face red as he stood talking to an oblivious servant.

One of his more innocent diversions....

She shook herself free of these thoughts.

Her heaviest gloves. Her st.u.r.diest half-boots. Her few coins in her pocket. She only had one bonnet, for Matthew had seen no point or amus.e.m.e.nt in bonnets, and it was very high with a big brim. She intended to use the hood of her cloak for concealment, and the hood would not cover it.

She went without.

The rings she wore on her left hand caught her eye, and she smiled grimly. There was a large emerald and a gold band, so much part of her that she'd forgotten them. Surely she could survive for some time on the value of those.

Pursued by her brothers, Serena ends up making her way down a country lane on foot.