A Soldier’s Heart(32)

Some things, however, were constant in a world spinning off its axis. His mother embraced him in rose-scented warmth: the security of childhood, of a world that would fall into place just as he wished. That he knew better now was a source of keen embarrassment. How could he have lived in his dream so long?

“Matthew.” She released him. “It’s wonderful to have you home. Your father awaits you upstairs. But first, I know there is someone you must be most eager to greet.” With a last smile she stepped back and motioned Serena forward.

Of all his ideals, Serena had shone the brightest. Had he ever known her, really? Or had he only seen what he’d wanted to in her? Now he must learn to deal with the real woman, for she was in truth his wife.

The sunlight gleamed in her rich ebony curls threaded through by the same ribbon as her dress. The color exactly matched her eyes. He’d forgotten how thickly they were fringed with feathery black lashes which curled gently at the tips. He felt her hesitation; saw it in the stiff set of her shoulders and the fixed smile not quite reaching those clear cornflower blue eyes. It was awkward, to meet thus, with all watching, after such a long separation.

She extended both hands. “Welcome home, my lord. You’ve been sorely missed.”

He took one cool hand, still supporting his bad leg with the cane. When with a short glance she realized he couldn’t take the other, she placed it over their clasped fingers. A gentle smile lit her face.

“You must be weary and hungry from your journey. The chef has spent days preparing all your favorite dishes. I know you remember how he holds us all hostage with his genius, so we mustn’t keep him waiting.”

This skillful handling of the strain between them surprised him. She’d been so quiet and unassuming when they wed. Or had she been? Perhaps he’d only seen her that way because he wished to.

Cecily laughed, sounding remarkably like their mother. “Serena’s quite correct. Francois has outdone himself!”

“Yes, come. I know you all wish to freshen up before dinner. And perhaps, a visit for a few moments with His Grace.” His mother placed her hand on Longford’s arm, leading the way back into the house.

Matt followed slowly, with Serena beside him. He was oddly grateful she didn’t try to assist him. In appreciation he slid her a smile which brought a light red flush to her slender neck and high cheekbones. She must feel the tension just as he did.

Cecily, holding Kendall’s arm, brought up the rear. Matt caught snatches of her quiet questions about their journey and Kendall’s brisk replies.

Serena remained silent, only nodding when he excused himself to make a long, painful climb to the second floor.

His short visit with his father left him cold with fear. The real evidence of the duke’s declining health was not easy to accept. He couldn’t bear the loss of anyone else he held dear to his heart. In the old days he could have hoped for a miracle, but his last battle had torn all prospect of hope from him.

Jeffries. The pain of loss thrust through him as clean and sure as the bayonet that had slashed his brow.

Long waited in his bedchamber.

“I shall find you a new valet tomorrow. But tonight I will have to do.” Long spoke with none of his usual mockery as he poured water into the white bowl on the washstand.

“I don’t need help. Nor do I wish a new valet.”

Shrugging, Long stepped back to make way for him. It was slow going to lean on the cane with one hand and use the other to clean away the dust of travel, but he managed it, to his great relief.

Silence grew in the room. Silence and a feeling of estrangement. Where was the easy comradeship of the past? Matt turned from the small mirror. “I’m ready to go down now.”

“So I see. And very well done. My compliments,” Long drawled, flicking an invisible speck of lint from his impeccably tailored buff coat. “However, I shall still find you a valet as soon as possible.”

“No! I want no one!” The sharpness of Matt’s voice startled even him, cutting through the silence.

“Planning to spend the rest of your days polishing your own boots?” Long’s mouth curled at the corner in a sneer. “Hardly a pastime for one of our nation’s heroes.”

“Cut line, Long! This is not a subject for your mockery. No one can ever replace Jeffries. He was more than just my batman, more than my friend. He was a part of my life for as long as I can remember. His loss is something I don’t take lightly.”

“And you think I do!” Matt’s anger was well matched. “If you recall, we shared the same childhood. Jeffries sat me on my first horse; taught me most of what I know of good horseflesh. His loss is felt by all of us! No doubt once you stop wallowing in self-pity because you couldn’t single-handedly wrest back the colonies without one drop of English blood being spilled, you’ll see that for yourself.”