Ella stared at her. “Truly? You will not be shocked, or cross, or—”
“I have been a governess for quite some time,” Serena said mildly. “I assure you, very little surprises me. And I would much rather you ask me than rely upon novels such as that one for instruction.”
Something shifted in Ella’s expression—a softening, a releasing of tension that Serena had not even realised the girl was carrying.
“Thank you, Miss Collard,” Ella whispered. “I... thank you.”
“You are welcome.” Serena glanced at the book. “Now, what do you wish to do with it?”
Ella considered. Then she held it out. “I do not think I wish to finish it. The more I read, the more confused I felt. And the heroine behaves foolishly, and the hero—” She wrinkled her nose. “The hero is rather alarming. He takes liberties without asking, and she is meant to find it romantic.”
Serena accepted the book, suppressing a smile. “Your instincts are sound. A man who takes liberties without invitation is neither romantic nor admirable.”
“So that is not how it should be?”
“No,” Serena said firmly. “It should involve respect, understanding, and clear consent. Anything less is not something to be admired.”
Ella nodded slowly. “Then the book is not a very good guide.”
“It is not,” Serena agreed.
They sat quietly for a moment, the fire murmuring and the rain tapping softly at the windows.
“I ought to go to bed,” Ella said at last. “It is very late.”
“It is,” Serena agreed. “But I think we may excuse the hour, on this occasion.” She rose, the book tucked beneath her arm. “I shall return this to its shelf, and this conversation will remain between us.”
“You will not tell Uncle Nate?”
“I see no need,” Serena said. “Though I would suggest that you bring such questions to me in future.”
“I will.” Ella hesitated. “Miss Collard?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For not being like the others.”
Serena smiled lightly. “I do not shout.”
Ella smiled in return. “No. You do not.”
She slipped from the library, leaving Serena alone with the fire and the book in her hands.
The Sins of Lady Sinclair.
Serena shook her head, torn between amusement and resignation. Of all the volumes in this vast library, it was inevitable that Ella would discover the one most likely to give her the worst possible impression of relations between men and women.
***
Serena crossed to the far corner of the library, searching for the place where the book had presumably been concealed. She would return it to its shelf, and that would be the end of the matter.
She had just lifted her hand to slide the volume into place when a voice spoke from the shadows behind her.
“One forgets, perhaps, how much children are left to puzzle out on their own.”
Serena turned sharply, her heart giving an unwelcome leap.
Lord Greystone stood some distance away, leaning against one of the bookcases, his arms folded across his chest. He was still in his evening attire, though his coat had been discarded and his cravat hung loose at his throat. In the subdued light of the library, with firelight and shadow softening the lines of his face, he appeared less formal than usual and more... something else. Something darker. More compelling.
