A Soldier’s Heart(19)
“Kendall!” Serena gasped, remembering Blackwood’s friend with the crisp, sandy curls and laughing green eyes.
“Can you keep a secret, Serena?” Cecily asked in awesome seriousness, leaning slightly forward.
Since she had never had brothers and sisters, the intimacy of shared confidences was foreign to her, but such was the appeal of Cecily’s little heart-shaped face, Serena learned toward her eagerly. “Of course I can keep a secret.”
“Lord Kendall has already kissed me. Twice!”
As mature as Serena felt after last night, her strict upbringing brought her bolt upright in shocked indignation. “But how dare he? And how could he face Blackwood after such a dastardly deed? You’re just a child!”
Serena could tell by the sudden narrowing of Cecily’s eyes she didn’t care to be called a child, but she shrugged good-naturedly. “No doubt he doesn’t even recall the incident. I was fourteen and Long came home to Avalon Hall in Berkshire to rusticate. Matt and Kendall were down from Oxford for a fortnight holiday. One night they were all drunk as monks in the library. I crept down to take a look. Matt and Long were both passed out on the couches. But Kendall, sprawled in a wing chair, was still awake. He saw me and called me to him.” A faraway look came to Cecily’s fine brown eyes. “He pulled on my braid and asked what I did there. I told him I’d come to see my brothers. ‘Cast away the lot of them,’ he said with that wonderful laugh of his which makes green devils dance in his eyes. He said I must retreat to my bedchamber before I was caught by Nannie. But before he set me away, he kissed me on both cheeks.”
Serena was aware of intense relief, for she’d liked Lord Kendall and was happy to find she could continue to do so.
“I fell in love with him then and there, and have remained constant. All I must do is go through the form of a Season and I shall be free to marry him. It’s a romantic lot you’ve married into, Serena.” Cecily laughed, and the light, musical sound was like a balm to Serena’s bruised spirit. “Except Long and Mother, of course. Speaking of which, I nearly forgot!” With a little bounce, Cecily rose from the bed. “Mother is waiting in the front parlor. I believe she wants to show you around the town house and introduce you to the staff.”
When Cecily entered the room, Serena was at the point of becoming a watering pot; now she was suffused with fresh energy.
“Cecily, did someone send you up here to lift my spirits?” Hugging her knees, Serena smiled at her new sister. “In truth, you’ve done just that!”
“Good!” Cecily nodded, a dimple appearing in her cheek, instead of marking her chin as Blackwood’s did. “Mother said it might help if you talked to someone closer to your own age. Mother may not be romantic, but you’ll find her very wise.”
Truly Serena appreciated the Duchess of Avalon’s gentle wisdom as she introduced her to her new duties. Since Blackwood and she had discussed virtually nothing, she was surprised to learn the west wing of the town house was Blackwood’s, the east Longford’s, when the entire family was in residence. The family seat, Avalon Hall, in Berkshire comprised fifteen hundred acres and two towns. Blackwood’s main seat was Avalon Landing on the Sussex Coast, a large, sprawling place he loved but had spent little time at, so it was in the hands of an estate manager, Mr. Jeremy Stockton.
Longford, as heir, had two minor estates in his care, for one day Avalon Hall would be his. Along with these facts, the duchess imparted a myriad details concerning the running of such a large establishment as the London house. Although, she confessed with her light, musical laugh, this household was small compared to the other holdings.
Truly overwhelming for a parson’s daughter, but Serena found the training Buckle had provided stood her in good stead. Her mind was so cluttered with facts and names and lists, the jolting pain of Blackwood’s abrupt departure began to fade ever so slightly. She guessed the duchess was wise enough to keep her busy so she wouldn’t grieve.
Blackwood had been gone less than a fortnight when they were interrupted in the conservatory by Wilkens, who, with a pained expression in his small eyes, looked down his long, imposing nose at the shorter man beside him.
“This gentleman has come with a message from Lord Blackwood for Lady Serena. He insisted my lord said he must give it in person.”
“That he did!” The thin man, dressed in rough country clothes, nodded enthusiastically. “Gave my word, Harry Thurston did, and keepin’ it I am.”
Rising to her feet, Serena stepped toward where he stood clutching a large clay pot of greenery.