Chapter Fifteen

Rowan stared at his wife as she laughed, recounting the first time she read Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility. He couldn't help smiling as her blue eyes sparkled with humor as she spoke. He had initially come to the library early that morning to shed the restless night he'd just spent wrestling with his mother's words and the weight of his own secrets. It wasn't the first night he'd remained sleepless. It was, however, the first in so many years where he'd had something his mother said to him to consider.

He had hoped, neigh, expected, to find some solace amongst his vast rows of beloved books. He had not, however, thought that his new wife would find her way there, too. He certainly hadn't expected her to join him as he sat trying to lose himself in his favorite tales. But most surprising of all was that he discovered they shared a mutual passion for literature. He knew that Serena was well spoken, as she had proven to him the few times she'd had the opportunity to speak to him. But he could not have guessed that she loved reading as he did.

As she continued talking, he noticed the small dimple in her right cheek when she smiled. He hadn't been completely unaware of her beauty, not even when he saw nothing in her face but obligation on the night of her debut ball. But as she lit up with the discussions of literature and authors, Rowan could see it anew. And his heart skipped, even under the heaviness of the previous night.

"Tell me," he said, leaning forward in his chair and resting his arms on the desk when she had finished her story. "Have you read Cecilia by Frances Burney?"

Serena's eyes widened, and she burst into laughter again.

"Oh, heavens, I do love Frances Burney," she said. "I have not read that particular book yet. But I do know that I adore her satire and reading about society from her point of view."

Rowan nodded. He didn't realize until that moment that he had mentioned something that he believed would make her laugh on purpose, just to hear the sound once more. He made a mental note to browse through his library and see if he had a copy of that book for her. And if he didn't, he vowed to buy it for her. It was, after all, the least he could offer his new bride.

"She is quite an outspoken author," he said. "She has some strong opinions about society. And yet, she is rather well received by all the readers I know."

Serena hid another giggle behind her hand.

"She is truly talented," she said. "And I believe that while her wit is a talent on its own, it shed some light on how difficult it is for women to be accepted as authors, especially should she take an interest in risqué comedies."

Rowan nodded slowly. He was aware that there were plays written by Frances Burney. But he was also aware that none of them had ever been performed on the stage.

"I myself do not find lady writers to be offensive," he said. "But I do understand that in society today, many people would."

Serena nodded.

"Jane Austen seems to agree with Frances," she said. "I believe they were both trying to draw attention to some things in modern society that might be changed, if more people could just see them as they were."

Rowan nodded again, impressed by Serena's insight. As he had never taken an interest in finding a bride until the vow that placed him as Serena's future husband, he had never considered what he might prefer in a wife. But listening to Serena speak so concisely and with such knowledge, he realized how shallow and superficial most of the ladies in the ton were. He simultaneously realized that he would have suffered terribly in a marriage to one such woman. He felt fortunate to have chosen such an intellectual bride. Even though he still felt as though he'd had no real choice in the matter.

"That is an impressive assessment," he said truthfully. "Most people read for nothing other than a good story."

Serena lit up once more, nodding fervently.

"Yes," she said. "Far too few of us can see the parallels between the characters' lives and tribulations and those in the world around us."

Rowan smirked, his awe for his wife growing. It was beginning to feel as though he had known her for years, rather than mere days as their discussion flowed more naturally than that which he had had even with his own mother in ages.

"And why do you think that is, Serena?" he asked.

His wife shrugged, her expression still open and warm, but flickering with matter-of-factness.

"I believe that it is because people will only ever understand things from their level of perception," she said confidently.

Rowan had to tighten his jaw to keep it from falling open. He had never heard anyone, let alone a beautiful young lady, say such a profound thing in regard to man's ability to relate and sympathize. He himself believed in that same ideal, although he had never found such precise words to express it.

"That is so very true," he said. "I must say that I agree with you. In fact, I got my very first lesson in that when I was just a boy. My mother took me to tea with her when she went to call on Lady Suthers, her dear friend. Her son, Benjamin, who was my close friend at the time, invited me to play in the back yard. We decided to play a game of hide-and-seek, but he chose me to seek first. But I had only ever played inside at his family's home, you see. So, I did not know the layout of the grounds as he did. So, when he found a hiding spot in a smaller, secondary rose garden that I did not know existed, I could not find him."

Serena listened intently as he spoke, her eyes sparkling as she stared at Rowan. Was she enjoying his story?

"What happened?" she asked, sounding utterly enraptured.

Rowan took a deep breath to steady himself. He could not believe that he was sharing a story about himself so freely with her. And yet, now that he could see how interested she was, he did not want to stop.

"When he finally came round the corner of the stables, I was furious. I asked him where he had been all that time, and he showed me where the other garden was. He was boasting about how he had won that round and I had lost. I pointed out that it was hardly fair, as I did not know the grounds as well as he did, and thus it was akin to cheating in a place that I didn't even know existed.

"He insisted that it was not cheating, and that I could have explored the grounds on my own until I stumbled upon it. But I would do no such thing, as there were many twists and turns through the main rose garden and the shrubs and trees beyond it. Getting lost would have been a quick and simple matter out there, had I traversed it alone. We argued for a solid five minutes over the matter before he went into a huff and stormed back toward his mansion."

Serena covered her mouth with her fingertips, her eyes wide.

"What a friend he turned out to be," she quipped, seeming a bit upset for young Rowan.

Rowan couldn't help smiling at her reaction.

"Yes, well, I told my mother on our way home that day," he said. "She never took me back over there to play with him again, which suited me just fine."

Serena giggled.

"Wonderful," she said. "I understand that people who grow up that way turn into the worst bullies."

Rowan nodded in agreement.

"And the worst seedy fellows London has ever seen," he said with an exaggeratedly raised eyebrow.

Serena laughed again, sending thrills up Rowan's spine.

"I dare say that you are right," she said.

Rowan sighed, letting a comfortable pause fall in their conversation. He could not believe how comfortable and connected he felt with Serena. He had told himself that no such thing would ever be possible for him. Yet now that it was happening before his eyes, he was in awe. Not just of the emotions he could feel slowly unlocking, but of the woman responsible.

She was everything he had never known he wanted in a companion. And she was not pretending for the sake of earning his title or fortune. Those things were already hers. Could it be that she truly cared for him?

"Well, in all this time talking, I do not believe that you have told me your favourite author," Rowan said, breaking the easy silence.

Serena's eyes brightened in that way he was rapidly coming to love.

"Well, while there are so many wonderful authors, that is an easy question to answer," she said. "My favourite author is William Wordsworth."

Rowan's jaw fell open for the second time that day. He had expected her to say Jane Austen or Frances Burney, since she'd had so much to say about, and so much interest in, their works. He could hardly believe what she had said, until he spoke again.

"Wordsworth is my favourite, as well," he said, his voice softened with shock. "A poet after my own heart, I suppose you could say."

Serena nodded, her eyes widening.

"He is a wonderful nature poet," she said. "Whenever I read one of his works, I could envision all kinds of things I had not yet seen just with his descriptions and passion for the places about which he wrote."

Rowan nodded.

"His poems with heavy nature themes are rather calming for me," he said. "I also enjoy his take on the human experience. Like with Lord Byron and the human condition, he has interesting things to say on the subject. And to put so much artistry in a poem is awe inspiring."

Serena nodded once more.

"I could not agree more," she said.

They spent the next hour discussing Wordworth's works, debating their favorite pieces and delving more deeply into the themes which the author incorporated into his works. He was impressed by Serena's keen observations, which were no less succinct and intellectual than the ones she had expressed about Austen and Burney. And the way she challenged his perspectives and made him see familiar stories in a new light was the most refreshing thing he had ever experienced. He could finally see Serena as he never had before, and he appreciated her intellect as well as the depth of her character and kindness of her heart. Truly, she was an incredible woman. And he could hardly believe that he had the fortune of having such a stimulating conversation with her.

As the morning passed, he could not deny how at ease he felt with her; unlike he had ever felt with anyone before that day. He had just decided that he would do anything necessary to see to it that the conversation did not end when the butler stepped into the room.

"Your Grace, forgive the intrusion," Lawrence said, raising his eyebrows and struggling against a smirk as he saw his master engaged in lively conversation with his wife. "But Mr. Hodges has arrived for your scheduled meeting."

Rowan glanced at the clock and saw that it was approaching two in the afternoon. His heart plummeted as he realized he had to excuse himself from Serena and their delightful discussions. He wanted nothing more than to send Mr. Hodges away. But he knew he had to tend to his duties. He might be a new husband, but he was also still a duke, and he could not shirk his ducal responsibilities.

"Do forgive me, Serena," he said. "I must go speak with my man of affairs. But thank you ever so much for this morning. And I truly hope that we can continue this conversation another time, very soon."

Serena rose, nodding to her husband, a slow smile creeping back onto her face.

"I would like that very much, Rowan," she said.

He grinned at her and nodded, excusing himself and getting out of the library. His heart felt lighter, now filling with new possibilities that he hadn't thought he would ever experience. He understood that there was still much to be resolved between them. But for the first time since before his father died, he felt hope. Perhaps, with Serena by his side, he could find a way to confront his demons and build a future filled with love and understanding.