*
Serenity worked veryhard to keep herself on an even keel. So many things were affecting her! When the marquess had approached, she’d felt her heart in her throat. He was positively glorious up close. He was tall and broad-shouldered and impeccably dressed. She noted his hair, which had seemed a darker shade as he sat at his window, was a charming dusky blond, the type that would lighten and darken with the seasons. His eyes, which she had presumed were brown, were in fact a very deep blue. Perhaps his most attractive aspect, though, was that his bone structure was so distinct and strong-looking. There did not seem to be an ounce of padding on him and it gave him a rarified and sophisticated presence.
The idea that a man such as that had sought her out specially had near overwhelmed her feelings.
Then, dancing with his brother, she’d come very close to weeping. Poor Nero! She could not bear to hear of any animal dying of old age. Why did there need to be such a thing? Poor Lord Charles was heartbroken over losing his beloved dog.
After that, she’d gone on to dance with several other gentlemen and it was speedily becoming apparent to her that she would have to guard her feelings very carefully indeed. One never knew when a gentleman would say something to set them off.
Lord Kilgard had mentioned a new horse he’d bought at Tattersall’s and she’d inquired into the old horse. He’d just shrugged and said he did not know—he’d handed it over to the stablemaster. Anything might have happened to that poor horse, and Lord Kilgard did not know the first thing about it. Her eyes had stung as she imagined the worst.
Lord Metley had described sailing on his rather large lake. The description of setting off at sunrise and the breeze catching the sails as the light came over the hills was devastatingly beautiful, and she’d almost wept over that.
Lord Littleton remarked that he’d not been sure he would make it inside the ballroom before the doors closed. He and his brother had been all the day long resettling their old cook, as he’d begun to go a little funny in the head. He could not be trusted around lit fires anymore and so they’d hired several caretakers to watch over him. It was so kindly done that once more she felt her eyes water.
She began to wonder if her family avoided certain topics that might set her off, as this night it seemed every time she turned round there was something to send them shooting high or falling low. As always, her eyes did not seem to care which direction her feelings were going, as they liked to water whenever they were going somewhere.
Now she was to dance with the marquess and she was a bundle of feelings. He was so handsome that her heart beat faster at the sight of him. But then, his brother had described him as so different from himself. Lord Charles was genially sentimental, but claimed his brother would not understand his feelings over his dog?
First the Duchess of Devonshire and then Lord Charles had hinted that Lord Thorpe was rather…austere. It was hard to believe, considering the way he’d smiled out the window. He had not looked unsentimental or reserved then.
Who was he really? She could not be certain, but even so, she knew she liked him. She could not help but to like him. It had been an instantaneous thing. How funny that it would be—Patience had done just the same. She’d laid eyes on Lord Stanford and had been set on him. At the time, Serenity hadreally wondered at the wisdom of it. Here she was doing just the same.
She was determined to keep a tight control over herself while in the presence of Lord Thorpe, as it did not seem as if he were the sort of gentleman who would appreciate a weeping lady.
He had come to collect her and they had danced a lively Scotch reel. Between their turns, he’d asked her about the Dales. He said he’d always had an interest in traveling there but had not yet had the opportunity. Serenity described the sunrises over the moors, and then noticed she was getting a bit carried away with it and regained control over herself.
The dance had come to an end and Lord Thorpe held his arm out. She laid her hand gently upon it. It was thrilling to be led into the dining room on his arm.
They were seated at the far end of the table, though just as they sat down it seemed Lord Thorpe looked unhappy about their placement. She followed his eyes and found Lord Charles had hurriedly sat down across from them. It was a very wide and square table, so she did not suppose there would be any conversation across it. She could not work out why the two brothers stared at one another as they did.
Lord Thorpe wrenched his gaze from Lord Charles and turned to her. Tea was brought, along with dry cake, as Lord Thorpe warned her against the sour lemonade and barely buttered, very stale bread.
Serenity said, “My three sisters who came before me all warned me off the lemonade. Felicity said it was so sour it could curl your hair.”
Lord Thorpe nodded. “That is an apt description of it. I believe the patronesses find a delight in promoting suffering at supper. I imagine they see it as their members proving they are willing to be inconvenienced by the institution.”
Serenity could not care less what was on the patronesses’ minds. She was determined to see if the marquess really was as unsympathetic as his brother made him out to be.
“Lord Charles told me of his tragedy,” Serenity said.
“His tragedy?” Lord Thorpe asked. “Is he calling being a second son a tragedy now?”
“A second son? No, he did not speak of that at all. He spoke about the loss of Nero.”
“Nero? Who is Nero?” Lord Thorpe asked.
Serenity took in a little breath. Could it be true that Lord Thorpe did not even remember the name of his brother’s so dearly loved dog? It did not seem possible.
“His dog, Lord Thorpe.”
“He has a dog?”
“Had a dog,” she corrected. “Poor Nero sadly died of old age last year.”
“Did he?” Lord Thorpe said in a rather dismissive tone.
She could hardly believe it. It seemed that Lord Thorpe recalled nothing about the beloved dog. She did not know what to make of it.
