Page 66 of A Figure of Love

He looked down into her hazel eyes, searching for some sign of her duplicitous nature, but they were clear and bright, although the slight dent between them spoke of her nervousness at his distant behavior.

He offered her his arm. “It would be my pleasure.”

∞∞∞

Serena took a last look in the mirror. Because it was a country dance, she was wearing the simplest evening gown she possessed. All four of the dresses she’d brought with her from London were gifts from the duke and duchess. Because they were kind and thoughtful, they’d always given her the garments on her birthdays, so that it would not appear to be charity.

Serena knew they believed her to be foolishly proud for refusing the portion they’d reserved for their youngest son, but she felt guilty enough for the deception she perpetrated each time she brought Oliver to see them. She could not bear to take their dead son’s inheritance on top of everything else.

The gown she wore was a glorious teal silk that gave her plain brown hair a burnished glow and made her eyes look green, rather than hazel. It was low cut—perhaps scandalously low for the country—but it suited her lush figure and the gauzy fabric of the skirt clung to her, even though she had added a second petticoat to the scant one that had come with the gown.

Around her neck she wore a simple chain and cross. It had no sentimental value but was something she’d purchased so that her neck did not appear naked at the grand functions she attended whenever she visited Keeting Hall. She’d once had a pretty cross of her mother’s but like everything else of value—including Robert’s letter—it had been left behind when she’d been forced to flee the Continent.

The young maid who often waited on Serena had dressed her hair high with loose curls, a style that flattered her face and made it seem less round and cherubic. She decided to wear her heavy velvet cloak as the nights could be cool. She knew nobody in London would be caught dead in such a practical wrap, but this was the country and she’d always valued comfort over fashion, in any case.

She was to ride with Gareth in his carriage; her body had hummed with excitement all day at the thought. They would finally have a chance to talk, alone. Perhaps they could get past the awkwardness that seemed to exist between them today.

But when she arrived in the great hall, she found only Jessup.

“Good evening, Mrs. Lombard.”

“Hello, Jessup.”

“Mr. Lockheart has been detained, ma’am. He asked me to tell you that he would join you later at the King’s Head.” He gestured to the door. “The carriage is waiting for you.”

Serena felt as though all the light had gone out of the room. She opened her mouth to ask just what could be detaining him but wisely caught herself. It would be impertinent to ask another employee such a question about their employer. And that’s what she was: Mr. Lockheart’s employee.

She thanked Jessup and the footman who handed her into the luxurious carriage. Once inside, she slumped against the soft leather seat, her mind churning and her eyes sheening with sudden tears. She blinked hard, stunned by her body’s response. Why was she acting like such an emotional fool? How mortifying to show up in front of the entire town without Mr. Lockheart, red-eyed and crying?

In the ten minutes it took to get to town she relived yesterday afternoon a hundred times, sifting every conversation and every look for hidden meaning. But the truth was, he’d behaved much the way he usually did—except for proposing she take her clothes off, of course. But even that had been done in his serious, businesslike fashion.

But his lovemaking? Serena shivered as she recalled his skill with her body and the tender but confident way he’d touched her. He’d been a generous lover who’d made certain she experienced fulfillment before he’d taken his own pleasure. But did it follow that he had any deep feelings for her simply because he was a thoughtful lover?

Serena had very little experience with men. There’d been Etienne, of course, but that had been against her will. She’d taken a few lovers in her early years in England, mainly in the hope she could wipe the vile stain of Etienne from her mind.

The first one had been a fellow sculptor, a selfish, competitive man both in bed and out.

The second had been a sweet, impressionable architect, a man younger than herself who’d quickly become infatuated. That had ended badly and she’d been convinced lovers were just not worth the risk. Indeed, those two experiences had made her wonder what the fuss was all about. The only good thing she had taken from the affairs was that Etienne had not ruined her for physical love.

And now, here she was with this mess. In love—or at least infatuated—with her employer, a reclusive, private man who was notorious for avoiding women—or at least she had never heard of any liaisons while he’d lived in London. And she was certain he’d entertained no women while in the country these past weeks. Well, other than her.

The carriage rolled to a smooth stop and she sighed. It was time to go and be social, an activity she usually found pleasurable. But tonight, she only wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Or him.

∞∞∞

Gareth was both pleased and annoyed by the message. Pleased because it proved Dec was still alive, annoyed because of the reason for the note.

The message was from an inn perhaps one hundred miles from Rushton Park. The note was written by an innkeeper named Trencher, of all things. It appeared Declan had rented a room and enjoyed the ‘appurtenant benefits’—Gareth was pretty sure he knew what that meant—but had run out of the means to pay for any of it. Gareth read between the lines for the rest of it. Dec had emerged from his stupor long enough to argue but finally capitulated after negotiating a stay of ejection, giving Gareth’s well-known name as a guarantee of payment.

“Damnation.”

“Sir?”

Gareth looked up. He’d forgotten Jessup was waiting. The imperturbable butler looked surprised and Gareth realized he’d probably never spoken an angry word in the man’s hearing before.

“Shall I tell the messenger to wait?”

“Yes. Put him in the kitchen and feed him. By the time he’s done I’ll have what is needed ready to go.”