A Soldier’s Heart(39)

Never quite certain where Longford’s real intentions lay—was he sincere or was this a bit of mockery from his restless intellect?—she felt it necessary to put him in his place. “If that is the case, then you should beware your own armor of cynicism lest we decide to take you in hand.”

Forgetting the waltz in progress and the august assembly, Long gave way to rich laughter, which drew several eyes to where they glided across the floor.

Over Longford’s shoulder she saw the laughter had drawn Blackwood’s attention also. He was studying them with unfathomable eyes. If only she could read what the depths held. If only she could be sure the path she’d chosen was correct.

Long spun Serena out of Matt’s view.

“Your brother certainly enjoys himself with your wife. Remember the night you first clapped eyes on her?” Kendall laughed between sips of champagne.

Matt had been studying her glowing skin in the candlelight and the way the long ebony curl fell down her throat to lie above the curve of her breasts, and he could find nothing of the simple, sweet girl who’d first drawn his eyes. How pompous he must have appeared in those days, assuming everyone and everything fit into his scheme of things! Whatever had possessed Serena to go along with his ridiculous romantic notion? She said she was as impetuous as he. But he found that hard to believe as he watched the confident and clearheaded way she conducted herself now.

“She’s certainly changed a great deal since then,” he finally answered carefully.

“She was a pretty little thing then. Now she’s a beautiful woman. Thought you’d run mad that night, remember?”

This time Kendall’s laughter caused Matt to flick his friend a cool look. He found Kendall’s eyes had wandered from Serena to Cecily, who was in high gig surrounded by several devoted beaus.

“Now I see running mad might hold a certain appeal,” Kendall continued somewhat fiercely. Draining his champagne glass, he placed it on the tray of a passing footman before sliding Matt a sheepish grin. “I’m off to rescue your sister.”

A moment later he had displaced her circle, completely monopolizing her.

Once, Matt had viewed this glittering scene with eyes that chose to see only the glamour and the camaraderie. Life had been full of goodness. Now he watched and speculated, seeking deeper motivations. But viewing his world with these new eyes didn’t make him any happier.

Rubbing absently at his thigh, he studied Long and Serena for another minute, trying to forget the odd twist in his gut. Shrugging it off, he made his way across the ballroom, apologized to his mother for his uncharacteristic tiredness, and retired.

A few weeks later, when Long informed him he would be staying in London with their parents instead of taking the much-anticipated trip to Avalon Landing with Matt, and then Serena immediately suggested that perhaps they, too, should postpone their trip to Sussex, the odd little twist returned. His gut tightened with the unbidden thought that Long was a notorious womanizer. Surely he hadn’t turned his practiced eye upon his brother’s wife? And she in turn responded? Once, he would never have thought of such a possibility. Now he was sickened that he had. Turning away in disgust—how low could he sink, to suspect his own flesh and blood—he curtly informed her he was leaving for the Landing in a fortnight, and whoever wished to accompany him was welcome.

On a crisp February morning with the sun’s brilliance reflecting off a light layer of new snow, Kendall tucked Cecily and Serena into a large traveling carriage and mounted his horse. Matt was doubly glad his leg had improved sufficiently to ride, and he could skip the embarrassing confinement of the coach. For the tension between himself and his wife had increased tenfold. Having been married so briefly and now coming together virtual strangers was not Serena’s fault. It was his. So it was his duty to set it straight. Why couldn’t he just move ahead with his life and be satisfied with the kind of union   many members of the ton endured? A marriage of convenience, where the parties came together when necessary but otherwise lived their own lives, was common enough. Apparently there still lurked, although nearly vanquished, a thread of romantic idealism in him, a vision of what he wished the world to be. He just no longer had the strength to make it happen.

In London he had discovered his wife had grown from the inexperienced and easily impressed ingenue to a polished woman of the ton, able to take her place in every social situation. In the country he was astonished at her astute management. She had wrought unbelievable changes at the Landing.

The house always had a comfortable, slightly shabby bachelor feel about it. Her redecoration was bang up to the minute yet still set a comfortable, homey feel, even in the public rooms. Although the style was charming, nothing was as he remembered. He tried to be as noncommittal as possible, but he saw in Serena’s strained countenance that she recognized his feelings.