Swallowing back tears at the anguish tightening the skin against the strong bones of his face, she found her answer in honesty. “I was a stranger. You thought me perfect, and when you returned, you saw I was not. Had never been. Plus I had changed in truth and became … me. I’m sorry, but I’m not sure perfection is possible for any of us.”
He gripped her shoulders so tightly, they ached as he held her firmly to him. “Serena, you are…” He shook his head, his eyes boring into her. “There are no words to describe what I felt when I saw you with Polly, heard your words. Such strength and understanding humbles me. You are…”
“I am your wife,” she finished for him. The force that had driven her along this path since his return took another twist, and for the first time, she initiated an embrace. This night she needed to be held in these arms again. And in his eyes she saw an answering need.
She touched her lips in slow movements over his wrinkled brow until it smoothed, down over the strong cheeks to the long mouth, and hovered there. “I’m your wife, Matt.” For the first time she used his name freely.
Cupping the back of her head with a grip of steel, he pulled her mouth down to his, letting her feel the warmth of his desire. She met the scorching passion with her own aching needs.
His mouth took hers again and again as they strained to be closer. His deft fingers slid her night-shift down her body so there was nothing stopping their desperation to touch and be touched.
In the dim light her gaze found his mesmerizing eyes bright with passion. He placed his hands on either side of her face and levered himself up.
“Serena, perfection has a new meaning, and it is you.”
“No, my dearest, it is us—together.”
Through the onslaught of dizzying emotion she rejoiced he did not speak of love, for he had the first time, and that was as nothing to what she felt now. He filled her with such exquisite sensations, she was not lost to passion, she became one with it.
At last she slept nestled against him, her cheek resting upon his heart, the steady beat bringing her peace.
Somewhere in the fuzziness of half sleep she thought she heard a knock and a voice and stirred fretfully. But he quieted her with a whisper and she felt his lips playing across her curls. Everything was all right now. They had a new beginning.
From somewhere deep in her sleep-numbed mind fear woke, but she pushed it back to its dark corner, clasping her husband more tightly in her arms.
The Separation
1815
Sometime during the night they shifted position; Serena was no longer resting her cheek against Matt’s chest, nor could she hear the strong, even beat of his heart. But she could hear his voice repeating her name over and over again. To respond she must brush aside the cobwebs of sleep and open her eyes.
He was sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, but with a jolt that brought her fully awake, she realized he was in traveling clothes.
“Matt, is it your father?” she asked with real alarm, fearing the worst.
“No, Serena,” he answered quickly, taking her hands with a numbing grip. “Long arrived last night with news from the Continent.”
The fear that she’d pushed back into its dark corner rushed forth, bringing her scrambling up to kneel before him. Dreading the answer, nonetheless she forced herself to ask. “What is it?”
“Napoleon is on the march, gathering an army behind him. The Duke of Wellington has gone to Brussels, where he’s to command the allied troops to meet the French. He particularly requested me on his staff.”
His words reached her, but they made no sense. He would think her dull-witted, even at such an early hour and after such a night as they had shared. As she stared into his face, the look in his dark eyes was too complex to read. “I don’t understand.”
“Serena, you must understand it is my duty to go,” Matt said gently.
“You can’t mean it!” she cried, her heart pounding through her with such force, she trembled. When he didn’t speak, she answered herself. “No, of course you don’t mean it. Not after the nightmares. Not after the senseless loss of your men. Of Higgens. Of Jeffries. Not after all you’ve suffered!”
He was as pale as the white marble fireplace, but his eyes blazed so dark, they appeared black.
“Serena, you have helped me to find myself. To accept. You are correct. I no longer see war through the eyes of that idealistic youth. I know it is neither glorious nor noble. But it is sometimes necessary.”
He was breathing as quickly as she was, but his voice was calm and firm. “Because of your courage and understanding, I have come to accept that, regardless of everything else, I am a soldier. A soldier who must do what is honorable and just. It is honorable and just to stop Napoleon once and for all. And that I must do.”
Not again! Just as they were beginning, they would be separated! All the fear and uncertainty! Not again!
At last the pain was more than she could bear. She ripped her hands from his warm grasp, recoiling back until the headboard bit into her spine.
“Then last night meant nothing to you! I mean nothing to you.” The tears stood, burning, on her face. Suddenly her voice was raw with desperation. “You would leave me again because your honor is more important than what we share?”
He was standing quite still, and she saw him literally cease breathing. “This is who I am,” he went on with obvious difficulty. “My honor is as much a part of me as my feelings for you are. Last night I saw you confront tragedy with something of beauty and strength. I can do no less. Nor would you wish me to. When I return—”
“No! Don’t bother!” she cried, unable to hold rational thought in the maelstrom of pain. “Go to your stupid honorable war. Get killed yourself! I won’t be waiting like a stupid fool this time!”
Putting both hands over her face, she wept, coiled in a tight ball of fear and confusion.
“Sweetheart, please listen.”
She heard the desperate plea in his voice, and when he touched her shoulder, she dropped her hands and opened her eyes.
“Don’t call me that and don’t touch me,” Serena whispered through the agony in her throat. “Leave me! I don’t care if I ever lay eyes on you again!”
A chill spread through her nerves and flesh as, dry-eyed, she watched him leaving for the last time.
It seemed like an eternity that she stared blindly at the door he closed between them. She couldn’t quite form her thoughts into any logical pattern. In a handful of hours she’d helped bring a child into the world, witnessed a woman’s death, and for the first time in nearly two years, spent a magical time in her husband’s arms, only to awaken to find him leaving her once again. She had a right to be exhausted, frightened, sick at heart, and confused, didn’t she?
The confusion stilled for an instant to mark one undeniable truth: Matt was leaving to face God knew what, and she’d sent him on his way with the memory of angry words.
Stumbling off the bed, she called his name and pulled open the door. In a state of shocking dishabille she ran, barefoot, toward the staircase. Through the tall mullion window she caught a glimpse of Matt and Kendall as they rode away.
If she hadn’t caught the back of one of the fragile gilt chairs lined up against the wall, she would have crumpled to the carpet. Instead she fell onto the low satin cushion and buried her head on her lap.
Cecily found her there, still weeping, and joined her, kneeling beside the chair.
“Oh, Serena, they’re gone!” she sobbed, their curls tangling together upon one another’s shoulders. “I should have thrown myself literally at Kendall’s feet. At least I would have had something.”
Breathing hurt her tight, tear-congested chest, but Serena took a deep breath and gripped Cecily’s shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “Surely you know Kendall cares for you,
Cecily. You have that.”
Nodding, her little face crumpled like a child’s. “I know. And Matt cares for you. Last night … something happened between you, didn’t it? I can see it in your eyes.”
“Yes, let’s all discuss Matt and Serena’s love life,” Longford drawled, suddenly looming over them. “The two footmen at the bottom of the stairs are getting an earful, plus stiff necks from trying to peer up here for a peek of your loveliness, Serena. Cecily, go fetch her robe,” he commanded, flicking both girls a bored glance.
“You’re a beast!” Cecily snapped, but ran nonetheless to the bedchamber.
Waiting, Serena folded her arms across her scantily clad bosom, and stared at the floor.
“This is certainly not the woman who singlehandedly changed the face of Avalon Landing. The woman who overnight has become a veritable angel to the entire country,” he mocked in his old, hated way.
Striving to maintain some kind of composure, Serena was saved by Cecily’s prompt return with her robe.
Holding it tightly around her, Serena rose and faced him with lifted chin. “Longford, Cecily is correct. You are a beast. It is my fondest wish that when your tiny heart is finally given, the lady crumbles it to dust.”
Placing a protective arm about Serena’s shoulders, Cecily nodded. “Yes, Long, it’s as much as you deserve for being so insensitive. We are desolate at being separated from our loved ones. Surely you must realize that!”
“Then have the good manners to be desolate in private and not involve me! I’ve too much to do to deal with it!” Folding his arms across his dusty riding jacket, he studied them from under his hooded lids. “I came up here to tell both of you I must leave immediately. Matt has requested I find him ten good horses and ship them to the Continent. I suggest the both of you return to London with me. News will arrive more quickly there, and Their Graces will want you close.”
“An excellent idea, Longford,” Serena agreed, trying to gather some semblance of order in her chaotic thoughts. “However, I can’t leave until after Mrs. Brown’s funeral and I have made final arrangements for help from Mrs. Watley for the Brown children.”
If she could feel anything but numb horror at all that had happened, she would have been surprised by his accommodating nod.
“Two days. And then we’re for London!”
London was not the haven of peace where Serena could sort through her confusion and decide what to do about her marriage. For certainly something had to be done, but just what wasn’t clear.
The house was one of illness, where everything revolved around the duke’s declining health. London itself was in the grips of another Season, but one quite out of the ordinary, for half the ton was missing.
“Town’s dull as dishwater. The whole world has gone to Brussels,” Aunt Lavinia stated flatly, fanning herself while Serena poured tea.
“So I’ve rented a house. Lucky to get one, I’m such a late-comer. Frederick escorts me tomorrow. Heard tell your husband’s gone to join Wellington. Why didn’t you accompany him? Everything all right and tight between the two of you?” she asked, finally revealing the reason for her unexpected visit.
Her owl eyes slitted, studying Serena in that particular way which she found a trifle unnerving given the state of her mind.
Her father would be thoroughly shocked and saddened if he knew how easily she was learning to tell falsehoods.
“Aunt Lavinia, Blackwood and I are unexceptional. He left so quickly, there was no question of my accompanying him.”
“Well, I’ll be there. Always a place for you if you decide to come. Should, you know. Nothing going on here.”
For once, Aunt Lavinia was correct. Without a ball or musical or soiree every day, Cecily had nothing to divert her mind from missing Kendall. Her woebegone little face even brought a reprimand from Her Grace, who informed her daughter she should take her example from Serena by putting a brave face on a difficult situation.
Just how difficult, no one knew. They had no idea it was now Serena who awoke at night in the sway of reliving that final morning with Matt. Over and over she heard herself say the hurtful words. She didn’t understand why he’d acted as he had. Any more than she understood how she could have so forgotten herself to give vent to her feelings.
The arrival of her father for a visit to the duke’s sickbed was a welcome relief, particularly since he brought Buckle. But not even to her beloved nursemaid did she reveal how quickly her life had plummeted from magical to miserable.
Only Longford’s declaration that he was leaving for Brussels in two days brought Serena out of her daze of confused misery.
“Why?” she asked boldly, meeting his mocking gaze without a flinch across the dining table. “What is going on?”
“Yes, Richard. This decision is rather surprising considering the duke’s health,” the duchess remarked from the head of the table.
Cecily leaned forward to gaze at her brother in rapt attention. She hadn’t missed the surprisingly sharp note in the duchess’s usually melodic voice.
Even Papa peered at the marquess over the top of his glasses.
Only Buckle, who had been asked to join them since they dined en famille, sat quietly with hands folded, her gaze on Serena.
“Well, Richard?” the duchess prompted. “Politics has never interested you before.”
“It does now!” he stated in a deep voice with nothing of boredom in it. “There must be a final confrontation between the allies and Napoleon. It could change the face of history.”
“And you believe you might be able to assist?” his mother asked gently.
“Good God, mother, I’ve found a way my humdrum existence might hold some meaning! If you must know, I’m carrying dispatches from the War Office. Perhaps I’ve misunderstood your subtleties over the years. I believed you would approve.”
“I simply desired to know your true intention.” The duchess looked steadily into her son’s identical eyes. “Now that you have made them clear, I see that you must go.”
“I’m going with you! I can stay with Aunt Lavinia,” Serena heard herself declaring, suddenly seeing a path open to make desperately needed amends with Matt.
“I’m going, too,” Cecily chimed in, leaping to her feet. “If there is to be a confrontation, I must see Kendall!”
Longford stared at them in horror. “You’re both mad! I have no intentions of playing nursemaid to the pair of you all the way to Brussels!”
“Excuse me, my lord, if I may,” Buckle broke in, shocking them all to silence. “If Serena and Lady Cecily wish to accompany you to the Continent, I would be happy to go as their companion so you wouldn’t be bothered by any of their needs.”
“What an excellent idea,” the duchess sighed, casting Buckle a look of quiet respect. “If it were not for His Grace’s health, I would go myself. But with you attending the girls, their accompanying him will cause Longford no difficulty whatsoever.”
“Hmpt.”
All eyes turned to Serena’s father as he cleared his throat. “Mrs. Buckle, are you quite sure you are up to such a long journey?”
Buckle gave him her singularly sweet smile. “Quite sure. As long as you’re able to manage without me in my absence.”
Reverend Fitzwater peered over the rim of his glasses first at Buckle, then the duchess, lingered a moment on Longford and Cecily, and came to rest on Serena. From what she saw in that steady gaze, she knew she hadn’t kept her heartsickness over Matt as much a secret as she’d hoped.
“Considering everything”—he spoke with a firm calmness, much as he did from the pulpit—“I see no reason why Lady Cecily and Serena, with Buckle as companion, should not visit Brussels. I know my sister will welcome them. That is, of course, if the marquess is agreeable.”
There was nothing of calmness in Longford’s abrupt
push to his feet or the cold look he inflicted on his mother, Cecily, and Serena in turn.
“The dispatches will be ready the day after tomorrow. I leave then, with or without you!” he declared grimly, before turning on his heels and striding from the room.
Never had there been a flurry of activity to match their efforts to assemble and pack for what might be a lengthy stay in Brussels. Serena surreptitiously tucked a few extra medical supplies in her bandbox, just in case.
Brussels was gayer than London at the height of the Season, so ball gowns, riding clothes, walking costumes, all must be carefully packed in tissue for their journey.
Serena worked like one possessed, for she was determined to hasten their leave-taking. Each moment away from Matt reinforced her hated words “Leave me! I don’t care if I ever lay eyes on you again!”
She must see him. Tell him she still didn’t understand why he left her, but she hadn’t meant to say all she did. It was the pain and fear that caused her to lash out so. She’d felt so safe, so content in his arms. To be ripped from them once again was more than she could bear.
She had to confront him with all that lay between them: all the misunderstandings and misconceptions, all the words they should have said but had never spoken to one another.
Buckle’s sweet calmness was their salvation as Longford drove them relentlessly to the coast, where the yacht waited to cross the Channel to Belgium.
They arrived at Lady Charlesworth’s in the early hours of a warm June morning. The entire household went into an uproar.
After promising to send Matt as soon as he found him, Longford practically dumped them on the doorstep with all their luggage and left to go to allied headquarters. The butler, a very superior little man, appeared scandalized, but the three women were so exhausted, they couldn’t have cared less.
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