A Soldier’s Heart(3)

There was that air of command in his words which made her quite certain he would do exactly as he promised. That notion sent a shiver down her spine. Fortunately the waltz ended and she could step out of his arms before he felt her trembling.

He left her at her aunt’s side with a bow that promised his swift return. Her heart pounded in her throat, and although she knew it wasn’t proper, her eyes followed him across the ballroom where he fell into animated conversation with another gentleman in identical regimentals.

With a quelling look from beneath her delicately painted brows, and a soft “Harumph,” Aunt Lavinia brought Serena back to her senses. She had no time for more wild, romantic notions as her aunt, with booming gusto, presented the next guest.

Very properly, Serena relegated Lord Blackwood to the back of her mind as she went about the business of the ball. For weeks Aunt Lavinia had taught her the proper use of fan and eyelashes, the essentials lacking in a motherless upbringing. Serena had thought them all a trifle silly until she realized with a judicious flick of her fan she could locate Lord Blackwood among the dancers and watch him for a few moments without being detected.

During a country dance with Mr. Herring, Serena could think of nothing but Lord Blackwood’s wonderful eyes gazing at her with such warmth. And the set with Baron Shurwood was entirely taken up with her conjectures about Blackwood’s strange words … He wouldn’t let her go away from him … Whatever could he have meant?

She hadn’t long to wait before he presented himself for a second dance. This time she was much more at ease, going through the forms with lighter steps than usual, buoyed by a quite unfamiliar excitement.

“Miss Fitzwater of Market Weighton, what think you of London?” he whispered when they came together shoulder to shoulder in a form, making the dance floor seem as if it held only the two of them.

“It is quite different than home, Lord Blackwood.”

They separated, but a moment later, now face-to-face, he leaned toward her, studying her quite seriously, as if her answer was of vital import. “If you miss Market Weighton, what part of it would you wish with you in London to make you content?”

The slight whimsy in his voice and that dimple marking his chin mesmerized her so completely, all her aunt’s warnings vanished from her mind. “Besides Papa and Mrs. Buckle, our housekeeper, I miss our garden. But London is so magnificent, it is hard to be homesick! It is so large and there are so many wonderful sights. I don’t know how I shall ever see them all!”

Suddenly realizing she had done the forbidden, displayed unfettered excitement where Aunt Lavinia had dictated languid boredom, Serena bit her lower lip, an unfortunate childhood habit never quite overcome.

“I mean, of course, I am enjoying the Season even though it is all a sad crush, is it not?” she finished, trying to ape her aunt’s die-away air.

He flung back his head, his laughter rich and full, causing the forgotten flutters to reappear and settle firmly in her middle.

“Well done, Miss Fitzwater. Utterly charming, just as I knew you would be,” he whispered quite daringly into her ear, stirring the curls there, under cover of the crowd moving off the floor.

Back beside her aunt once again, he bowed. “Thank you, Lady Charlesworth, for a perfect evening.”

Then, without another word, he spun on his heels and was gone, leaving the ballroom strangely empty.

“Very interesting,” Aunt Lavinia commented, her owl eyes slitted in a most untypical speculation. “And very proper. Three dances would have drawn unwanted attention, but two were just the thing. Whoever would have thought you would draw the attention of a duke’s son? Even a second son!”

“Aunt Lavinia, what—” Serena wanted to ask what she meant, but was cut off precipitately.

“Sometimes, Serena, you amaze even me!” Aunt Lavinia’s huge blue orbs gazed at her fondly. “You’re usually so insipidly proper, just as one would expect from your father’s daughter, and then, tonight, you do something positively inspired like extending your hand to Blackwood. And trodding on my toes to lead me to the proper point. Your father was never so subtle as that when we were children. But those days are long gone and now he’s turned into a saint.” She sighed. “It’s difficult being a proper sister to your papa, Serena. If only I knew exactly what would please him most.”

“Papa only wishes me to be happy, Aunt Lavinia.” Serena spoke up quickly, hoping to get a word in. “May I ask why you find Lord Blackwood’s conduct so interesting?”

“Because, Serena, he is definitely catched! How interested is the question?” she mused, at once looking like an overstuffed owl, wreathed in a smile.