Cecily had been oddly quiet, refusing to dance, until at last Kendall appeared in the doorway, candlelight turning his crisp, sandy curls to copper. She moved a step forward, but his eyes found her and he quickly made his way to them.
“Couldn’t believe it when Longford tracked me down and told me you were here!” Bowing, he took Serena’s hand, squeezing it. “Sorry Matt isn’t with me. The duke sent him out early this morning to discover what’s happened to his usually excellent secret service. Haven’t heard from the scouts in days.”
Serena froze with bitter disappointment, but forced her lips into a smile. “I shall simply have to be patient. But we are delighted to see you, Kendall.”
“Yes, delighted,” Cecily breathed, extending both her hands.
With bright dancing eyes, Kendall lifted them to his lips. “If you’ll excuse us, Serena, I believe this is my waltz with Lady Cecily.”
Cecily had never looked more beautiful than when Kendall swept her into his arms and they twirled around the room. It was almost painful to watch the adoration on her innocent face.
Serena now understood what war could mean; she’d heard it in Matt’s nightmares and seen it on his face when he told her of his loss. The excitement growing all around struck terror in her heart. If, as Longford predicted, there must be one great confrontation, many men in this room would not return from it. Even Kendall. Or Matt.
Trembling with sick terror, Serena stared blindly around, blocking out everything, willing Matt to appear.
Finally the whispers that began with an officer in Prussian black rushing into the ballroom, the dust of travel still clinging to him, penetrated even through her numbness.
“…Napoleon has crossed the border with his entire army at Charleroi … two hundred thousand men … one million men … Picton to march to Quatre Bras…” The whispers grew louder and louder as dancers began to leave the floor. A large crowd formed around the duke, who remained almost stoically calm.
Swiftly Kendall brought Cecily back to her. “I must go. Don’t worry. We’ll rout Boney once and for all this time.” He grinned with a confidence that brought the ache of tears to Serena’s eyes.
“Lord Kendall, do you remember kissing me when I was fourteen?” Cecily asked, a thread of desperation in her voice.
Kendall’s dancing eyes widened. “Lady Cecily, surely not!” he gasped in mock horror. Another slow grin curved his mouth. “Now that I think of it, I have a very vague memory of your pigtail. Quite charming if I recall.”
“Then I shall have to give you an even clearer memory to take with you.”
With that, she stood on tiptoes and pressed a firm kiss on Kendall’s mouth. Hastily Cecily stepped back, her face scarlet, her lips quivering in a smile. “So you won’t forget me.”
The green eyes were suddenly very serious as Kendall lifted Cecily’s hand and placed a kiss in her palm.
“I assure you, Lady Cecily, to forget you is impossible.”
He spun on his heels, disappearing into the stream of red flowing out the door.
The storm was breaking all around them. Reaching out, Serena tightly clasped Cecily’s hand.
“What does it mean?” Cecily asked with tears running down her cheeks.
With a certainty that burned her insides like acid, Serena knew she wouldn’t have the moment with Matt Cecily had just stolen with Kendall, for there was no time left, for any of them.
“It has begun,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the pain.
It had begun and they should have known, but didn’t, Matt raged, driving his horse faster to reach Wellington with the news his secret service had failed utterly. Instead of attacking around his right to cut him off from the sea, Bonaparte had chosen to march through Belgium and attempt to drive a wedge between the British and Dutch troops and the Prussians.
“Napoleon has humbugged me, by God!” Wellington remarked.
Matt stood at attention, hardly daring to move when the commander was in this mood.
“Blackwood, you must ride out again.” Opening his ever-present portfolio of pen, ink, and paper, he scribbled orders. “Deliver this to Picton. We can’t take the French at Quatre Bras. But we must hold them as long as possible.”
A fresh horse eager beneath him, Matt spared a moment of gratitude to his brother for procuring him such fine horseflesh. With thoughts of home came Serena’s parting words to haunt him. He shook his head, rejecting everything but what lay ahead.
Quatre Bras must not be taken.
He presented the orders to Picton, who, cursing, rammed his black top hat more firmly upon his head. “Ney attacked at two while we shilly-shallied around cooking breakfast; the day was almost lost. But we’re here, by God! And we’ll hold. Blackwood, inform the infantry they must stand to a man.”