She only lifted her lids when she heard Cecily’s whisper and felt her kneel beside her. She looked into the tear-streaked little face.
“Serena, they aren’t coming. What if they never return?” Cecily asked with a sharp catch in her voice.
“Of course they shall return.” From where came the even tone? “Blackwood says they shall rout the colonists in short order.”
“Serena, my friend Mary Featherstone’s brother, Sir Giles, never returned from the Peninsula. And there have been others.” Her voice dropped to the merest whisper, her eyes filling her white face. “It could happen to Matt or Kendall.”
“Cecily, I forbid you to speak so!” Serena retorted in stronger tones. No matter she ached inside as if a hole had been ripped through her. No one would ever see the despair she felt. She rose, pulling Cecily to her feet. “Both Blackwood and Kendall will return victorious, I have no doubts. Nor should you.”
Cecily held on to her hands so tightly, they hurt, but Serena didn’t pull away. “Serena, what shall we do?”
“Do?” She forced a laugh and was pleased to discover it sounded real. “Why, enjoy your Season, of course. They would both wish us to do so, and I fully intend to.”
Those moments alone with the late afternoon sun bathing the conservatory in golden light forged a bond between the two girls. They never spoke of their fears again. Side by side they threw themselves into the most feverish pursuits of the Season. As all had predicted, Cecily was declared a diamond of the first water. Smitten beaus sent her poems describing her hair as cascading moonbeams and her eyes as pools of sweet chocolate. They smiled over the missives, but with her usual flair for the dramatic, Cecily refused to save any but Lord Kendall’s brief note.
While Cecily left cracked hearts littering the ton, Serena formed a court of her own. Finally she learned the art of coy use of fan and lashes Aunt Lavinia labored so last Season to teach her. It was really quite simple when one’s emotions were so uninvolved. Now it was merely a game they all played for one another’s amusement.
When she heard herself termed a reigning beauty, she was so shocked, she hid her laughter behind her fan. What a change of fortunes for Miss Serena Fitzwater of Market Weighton, East Riding, York! What would Blackwood make of this creation that the ton was forming?
She tried not to dwell on thoughts of him. Although sometimes she would catch a glimpse of Longford—his shining hair or his dark eyes—so reminiscent of Blackwood that it seemed an arrow pierced her heart. Then she would be gayer than ever.
Much to Serena’s surprise, Longford seem to be forsaking his rakehell ways to ensure Cecily’s Season. He was so dutiful, attending both his sister and Serena, the matchmaking matrons began once again to urge their daughters to cast lures at the future duke, for obviously he’d mended his ways.
Halfway through the Season at Lady Jersey’s ball, he bluntly informed both girls they were established firmly enough to satisfy even Their Graces, and promptly abandoned them to begin a scandalous interlude with a young married baroness whose elderly husband remained in the country. The tabbies were off! Both Cecily and Serena were continuously assailed by tidbits of gossip.
The next night Aunt Lavinia held her annual soiree to parade the lovelies for her son, or as some snidely remarked, “to parade her son for the lovelies.” Frederick, stuffed into his coat, was immune to all but one.
“Cousin, dearest, do say you will assist my suit for the fair Lady Cecily. I’ve been captivated by her beauty since last winter at Avalon Hall,” Frederick proposed to Serena after pulling her aside. “Did she receive the poem I penned to her eyelashes?”
His owl eyes, so like his mother’s, blinked rapidly. His shirt points made it virtually impossible to turn his head and he moved with odd jerky contortions, looking at once like a crested jay.
Serena covered her smile at the mixed metaphors with her fan. “Frederick, the poem was lovely, but I’ve told you before Cecily regards you as a most charming friend,” she repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“I feared so.” He languished. “Gossip has it Lady Cecily’s heart has been given and she waits for someone’s return.” An expectant smile suffused his face, made ruddy by his too-constraining collar.
She wouldn’t fall for that trap. “I wouldn’t listen to idle gossip, Frederick, for it’s usually inaccurate.” Fanning herself briskly, for the soiree was a squeeze with virtually everyone in attendance, she attempted to fob off her cousin’s inquiries. “I never pay heed to it myself.”