Serena by Claudy Conn

neither, but I am her friend and won’t listen to anything anyone has to say that is not complimentary to her.” She eyed him disapprovingly. “Eustace, I should think a man of the cloth would not either.”
    If this discomposed him, he showed no sign of it as he simply sighed and said, “Sinners are not given the same consideration as others. Besides, it isn’t gossip, is it?” His chin indicated the young woman in question, standing between her parents. Serena frowned because the young lady appeared both sick at heart and ill at ease.
    The reverend said, “She is with child … and will soon be showing, yet no one has offered to make an honest woman of her. Does that not speak volumes?”
    “It does. It speaks to the deplorable nature of a man who would leave a young woman in such straits. We all make unwise decisions from time to time, but, Eustace, I take leave to tell you that I do not fault her. What of the so-called gentleman who has left her in such a predicament? It is unthinkable that he should have pleasured himself and then turned his back on her.” Serena shook her head. “Life is harsh when a woman does no more than the man does and yet is held to a higher—different standard.”
    “Serena, you shock me!”
    “Why? You brought up the subject,” she snapped.
    “Well, as to that … it has nothing to do with the fact that she shouldn’t be flaunting her situation here at the ball. I have even heard that she and her parents were not invited, and yet here they are!”
    Serena frowned. “If they were not invited, how is it no one in the Merriweather clan has asked them to leave?” She waved this consideration off. “It must be that they were invited, and I applaud the Merriweathers for their kindness.”
    “Not so, Serena. You are an innocent—”
    “I am not,” she cut in. Was that not what she had just taken affront about with his lordship? She almost chuckled but said, “Why should you think they were not invited?”
    He indicated with his chin. “Look there—one of the servants has been sent to escort them out of the ballroom. Dear me … how unfortunate. It appears we are about to witness an ugly scene. Why ever did they come here?” Eustace said, frowning with obvious disgust.
    At that moment a commotion broke out.
    A shout was heard, and Serena turned to find a young man whom she knew to be Wendell Merriweather, only son and heir to the Merriweather title and fortune, rushing forward. “Get your filthy hands off her!” he snapped at the servant who had taken Sarah Delmore by the arm.
    A hush went around the room as Wendell reached Sarah and the servant bowed himself out of the way.
    “Sarah, Mr. and Mrs. Delmore, I beg that you will forgive me, my cowardice. I ask no forgiveness for my parents as they do not deserve it.” He shook his head. “I had thought I must put my father’s wishes above my own, but I have come to realize that I can’t. I simply can’t. His wishes are wrong.”
    The young woman’s adoring, sad eyes looked up at him, and it suddenly dawned on Serena—Wendell Merriweather was the father of Sarah’s child!
    Of course! It was why the Merriweathers had not put them out of the ballroom. They had been worried lest Sarah name their son as the father of her child. They must have been overcome by the whispers and sent the servant to see the Delmores out of the house.
    Wendell suddenly went down on one knee before Sarah and begged, “I would that you could find it in your heart to forgive me. I adore you, Sarah, and would be honored if you would accept to be my wife.”
    “Oh, Wendell … I would, but I fear you do not really want me,” Sarah said haltingly, as though only she and young Merriweather were in the room.
    No one spoke. The music had already stopped. No whispers could be heard. Everyone watched and listened as though it were a tragic love story being enacted for their benefit.
    “I was a fool, but no more. I found it difficult to disobey my