A Soldier’s Heart(38)
Smiling, Serena studied herself in the mirror as Buckle expertly brushed her hair high on her head and let one curl fall along her throat.
“There! You shall dazzle your husband tonight.”
In the mirror, their eyes met and held. There could be no pretense with Buckle. “I’m afraid our reunion hasn’t been all I’d hoped,” Serena said softly.
“I know, dear child. I’ve been watching the two of you and growing more concerned every moment.” The rosebud mouth straightened in sorrow. “Can you tell me why?”
“He’s changed so, Buckle.”
“So have you,” she replied.
“Yes, we’re no longer the same impetuous children who wed so quickly. I wish there was some way to go back to that time.”
“Would you really wish it? What did you truly know of Lord Blackwood then?”
As she continued to hold Buckle’s gaze in the mirror, heat flared in Serena’s face. “Nothing but how he made me feel.”
“And what have you learned about him since then?” Buckle asked with great gentleness.
Serena blinked rapidly to force her eyes to hold their tears. “He is gentle and intelligent. Obviously brave. But he has acquired an adamant detachment which pushes me away.”
“Although he’s no longer your romantic hero, it seems to me there is much in him to admire. Perhaps instead of wishing for what was, you might consider what could be.”
Clasping the gnarled hand that still fussed with her curl, Serena pressed it to her lips before turning to face Buckle. “You are as wise as Father.”
The apple cheeks glowed scarlet as pale blue eyes widened in unfeigned shock. “Dear child, your father is a great scholar. ’Tis just simple country logic I possess.”
“You’ve given me much to ponder.”
“Ponder nothing this night but enjoyment,” Buckle demanded, urging her into the hallway. “I’ll be watching with the other servants in the minstrel gallery, so enjoy yourself or I’ll give you a scolding.”
Serena’s smile lingered as she descended the stairs. She couldn’t remember the last time Buckle had scolded her. To give her former nursemaid no cause for concern, Serena swept into the ball, head held high, displaying more confidence than she truly possessed.
The duchess, in black silk with diamonds sparkling at her throat and ears, greeted her guests at the doorway. The duke was seated in a small alcove off the main ballroom, already surrounded by distinguished cronies. Serena caught a glimpse of both Longford and Blackwood among them.
Cecily, as always, was surrounded by admirers, including cousin Frederick, who was affecting a particularly ambitious cravat which fell quite short of perfection.
It was particularly gratifying to be surrounded by a number of admirers herself since her husband appeared indifferent. If she focused on being amusing, she could stop thinking about him entirely. Often she glanced toward the minstrel gallery, but couldn’t find Buckle’s round, sweet face among the servants watching from above.
Lowering her eyes, she was startled to find Longford advancing upon her.
“Her Grace has decreed I should lead you out for the first waltz since Matt is unable to dance.”
Her gaze slid over his shoulder, searching the room.
“He’s with Father,” Longford added, before placing her hand on his arm, whisking her away from her court of admirers and onto the dance floor.
As they twirled around the room amidst the other dancers, Serena relaxed, for Longford was well versed in the steps. Since he wasn’t bothering to make polite conversation, she was able to continue her perusal of the gallery. At last she saw dear Buckle waving at her. Lifting her hand from Longford’s shoulder, she blew her a kiss.
His gaze instantly followed. “Who are you blowing kisses to?” he inquired lazily.
“Buckle. She’s watching with the other servants.”
Meeting her eyes, he gave her a lopsided smile. “There is still a bit of the reverend’s daughter in our polished London beauty, isn’t there? Just as there remains a streak of idealism in Matt, although he denies all he once held dear. Do you recall I once warned you this would come to pass one day?”
“Yes, I believe you thought me unworthy of the task now at hand,” she responded quietly.
“And are you?” he asked harshly, his hooded eyelids nearly shut. “Can you help Matt rediscover himself?”
Pride lifted her chin. “There are many avenues to the same place. I am searching for the right one.”
“By God, my mother has truly taught you well! I shall cease worrying. Between Her Grace, my incorrigible sister, and you, Matt hasn’t a prayer of anything short of a full recovery to his former heroic self.”