“A brilliant match, my dear. But how can you, on such short acquaintance, know if this is the man with whom you can share your whole life?”
Biting her lower lip, Serena tried to formulate the answer that would please her father. She couldn’t possibly tell him Lord Blackwood was quite simply the most handsome and dashing man she’d ever laid eyes on, and although in truth she truly didn’t know him, he must be as beautiful inside as out.
“He’s a distinguished soldier and is from an excellent family,” she offered carefully.
The lines deepened in her father’s narrow face as he reached forward to brush back a stray curl from her forehead, much as he’d done throughout her childhood.
“My dear, you have always been such a dutiful child. I hope you did not misunderstand when I talked about your Season. Of course you must marry one day, but this is so soon. I hope your heart is involved.”
“I find him very … pleasing. I’m sure we shall be happy together, Papa.” It was quite difficult keeping her voice the calm, steady tone he was accustomed to hearing. Excitement coiled fingers through every part of her body, making her feel the giddy schoolgirl she’d never been. Lord Blackwood was the stuff of romance, which she now knew had little to do with the clearly defined view of life she’d once held.
“My dear, have you discussed where you shall reside? I know Avalon’s main seat is in Berkshire. I believe Blackwood’s is on the Essex Coast. Will he resign his commission? Are his interests for politics, the land, or is he a scholar?”
Papa’s face was so serious, just as it was in the pulpit. She felt the meanest creature alive for feeling this absurd irritation with him. Of course, reality must intrude into the romantic fantasy she’d been floating through since first she looked into Blackwood’s wonderful face, but not just yet. As far as she was concerned, the details would surely come later.
“Papa, Lord Blackwood and I haven’t discussed such things.” She squeezed her father’s long fingers. “When he returns to speak with you, all can be settled then.”
“Serena, my dear, what have you and Lord Blackwood talked about? I assume in the few brief weeks of this rather, I fear to say, unorthodox courtship you have had long, heartfelt discussions which led to such strong feelings, you are determined to share your lives.”
Surely it was just nerves and not Papa’s knowing regard that caused her to jump up and go to the sideboard. “Pray excuse me. I’m suddenly famished.” Buying time, she opened each silver chafing dish to examine the contents. Truth to tell, she couldn’t eat a bite, there were so many flutters in her stomach. Nevertheless she piled her plate with kidneys, poached eggs, and toast laden with marmalade. Returning to her father’s side, she gave him a smile, hopeful it would soften the sternness of his thin lips.
“Serena, my dear, are you avoiding my questions? I cannot agree to this union unless I am convinced it is in your best interest.”
The idea this new romantic state might disappear as quickly as it had descended brought her up sharply.
“Papa, you sent me here for the sole purpose of making a marriage. That I have accomplished this in a shorter time than you thought possible shouldn’t be of import.” Realizing the tone of her voice was not felicitous, she stopped, set her plate down, and started again. “Papa, it is my fondest hope you will agree to my becoming Lord Blackwood’s bride.”
Her chest ached until she realized she was holding her breath as her father studied her over the rim of his glasses. Only when he nodded could she inhale regularly.
“So be it, my dear. You shall have my blessing.”
He opened his arms and she went into them gratefully. Now her wonderful romantic dream was safe.
“Can’t hardly believe it, laddie. A betrothal party this night, a wedding in a week. Indecent. Aye, it is,” Jeffries grumbled, the cloth in his gnarled hands working over Matt’s Hessians.
“Jeffries, you’re wearing the leather to a nub. Already I can see myself in the things.” Matt laughed, too content to let anything unsettle him.
“What’s to do when we’re off fightin’ the Frenchies?” Jeffries barked, with the familiarity of a trusted servant. He rose to his feet, his bowlegs parted, folded his arms across his chest, and thrust his red, stubby beard in the air. “Aye, that’s a wee rub, isn’t it, laddie? You’re a soldier through and through. Heart and soul. When we finish with these Frenchies we’ll have those uppity colonists to contend with, mark my words.”
Matt spared one glance into the small mirror over the washstand to check his cravat before turning to his batman. “Don’t worry, Jeffries, I don’t plan to desert my country. I shall always be a soldier; now I shall also have a wife and family. Lots of men are married. We fight not only for honor but to keep our cherished ones safe at home.”