A red flush crept up the strong bones of his face. “A romantic fancy.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry it caused you such inconvenience. You should have turned it over to the gardener to tend.”
“Certainly not! Horticulture is a great interest of mine. I’m quite good at it.”
Perhaps it was surprise at her vehemence that lifted his brows. “So I see. I had no idea you were such an expert gardener.”
“How could you? We knew very little of one another’s interests when we wed.” Was it the anger making her so blunt? Or was it some other force within her?
“You’re right, of course.” His long mouth curled in a wry smile. “I must apologize, I suppose, for being so impetuous. If we had been wiser, perhaps—”
“Wisdom had naught to do with it,” she interrupted, a fine edge of anger bringing her to her feet. Why must he continually allude to their marriage as if it were a mistake? Naught could be done now. Surely they could deal together better than this. “I was as impetuous as you. The … attraction I felt for you was every bit as strong as what you believed you felt for me.” Serena could feel a hot flush rise up from her chest to burn her cheeks. How could he fail to hear her heart pounding as he stared at her silently? He took a tentative step forward.
“Oh, here you both are!” exclaimed Cecily, shattering the tense moment so abruptly, Serena sat back down upon the bench, for her knees were trembling.
After pressing a quick kiss upon Blackwood’s cheek, Cecily danced over to sit beside Serena and squeezed her hand.
“While shopping on Bond Street, Mother and I met the Duchess of Southerland. She told us several of our friends are staying in town for the holidays. So we’ve come up with the most wonderful plan! A ball to welcome in the New Year and celebrate Matt’s return to us. Is that not marvelous?”
“Marvelous.”
They replied in unison, one voice amazed, the other sarcastic.
As she sprang up, Cecily’s dimple came and went in her pink cheek. “Come along, Serena; let us make our guest list. Mother says we must start our plans immediately as the holidays are nearly upon us.”
Blowing her brother a kiss, Cecily gripped Serena’s hand and nearly pulled her from the conservatory, leaving Blackwood staring after them, a quizzical curve to his mouth.
“Cecily, what are you up to?” Serena demanded, stumbling after her determined sister-in-law.
“Well, Mother says we must find our own path to help Matt regain his aplomb. Mine is to plunge him immediately back into the social whirl.” Stopping in the hallway, Cecily let go of Serena’s hand to look at her with wide, dark eyes. “Remember, it was at a ball that he swept you off your feet. Perhaps at this one you can do likewise. I certainly plan to do so to Lord Kendall!”
Cecily’s confidence bolstered Serena through the next few weeks as the holidays descended upon them and nothing changed in Blackwood’s cool detachment. At night she could sometimes hear him in the grips of one of his nightmares, but she forced herself to bury her face in the pillows and ignore the overpowering urge to offer comfort. He’d said he couldn’t discuss it with her.
Until he could bring himself to confide in her the terrors of those dreams, her presence would only add weight to his already heavy burden.
Blackwood appeared to be most at ease with Longford and Kendall when they spent evenings in the library over port and cards. His afternoons were dedicated to reading the newest political treatises to the duke and discussing the ramifications to the country of the long and expensive French wars. In his dealings with his father, Blackwood displayed a gentleness and intelligence that brought a little catch to her throat whenever she saw them together.
To her he was unfailingly polite and courteous, but the door between them was as firmly shut as the one in their chambers.
By the time her father and Buckle arrived on Christmas Eve, Serena’s nerves were ready to shatter from the strain of pretending to view all and sundry with the same cool detachment Blackwood displayed.
She could feel Buckle’s blue eyes searching her face throughout the Christmas festivities. On the night of the ball Buckle appeared at her bedchamber and dismissed the maid, stating in no uncertain terms that she would do what was necessary for Serena’s toilette.
Matter-of-factly Buckle fastened the catches at the back of the silvery silk gown Serena had chosen to wear because it reminded her so forcibly of one she’d worn in her first Season; except this gown was cut deep over her breasts, held up only by small sleeves poised low on her shoulders.
“Dear child, you look breathtaking. Even though these London fashions are a mite shocking to we country folk,” Buckle chuckled good-naturedly.