Chapter Twenty

"Your Grace," whispered a hushed, feminine voice, pulling Serena from her sleep.

She opened her eyes to see Christine smiling brightly down at her, softly shaking her arm from atop the blankets.

Serena's eyes flew open, and she quickly sat up. She realized that it was the morning of her ball, and she was instantly filled with anticipation and nervousness.

"I'm up, Christine," she said with a soft laugh, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed.

Her lady's maid gently dragged her to her dresser, rummaging through her morning dresses.

"This is sure to be a busy day," she said. "I believe we should put you in something simple and comfortable, to make tending to all the last-minute arrangements for this evening as easy as possible for you."

Serena nodded. That night would be an important opportunity to showcase her new role as duchess, and that meant ensuring that there wasn't a single decoration out of place, one refreshment not prepared or a single chair forgotten.

"I believe that my white day dress will suffice," she said.

Christine nodded, fetching the outfit, and closing the dresser. She twisted Serena's hair into a simple but elegant bun, then helped her into the morning dress. She opted to skip breakfast, promising to make it up at lunch that afternoon. She was too restless to eat, and there were too many things she needed to finalize with the staff before she could stop for a luxury such as eating.

She headed straight to the ballroom, delighted to see that the refreshment tables were exactly where she'd instructed and already filled with empty silver trays, champagne flutes and wine glasses. She was surprised to see that Eleanor had appeared to have the same idea she had. Her mother-in-law was standing in the corner of the ballroom, speaking with a maid, and pointing up at the chandelier. The maid nodded and curtseyed before rushing off to comply with whatever order Eleanor had just given her. But when she saw Serena, Eleanor gave her a bright smile, approaching her with open arms.

"Everything is coming together beautifully, darling," Eleanor said, embracing her daughter-in-law.

Serena blushed at the use of such an affectionate pet name. She couldn't deny that she and the dowager had grown closer in the days they'd spent planning the ball. Her mother-in-law had delivered more than her end of the bargain about teaching Serena how to be a duchess and host a ball. And in just a few hours, she would be showing all of high society what she could do with those lessons.

"Your Grace," said a footman as he bowed quickly upon reaching her side. "The last of the decorations has just arrived. The other footmen and I will help the maids place everything in the places you desired. Are there any further requests?"

Serena started to shake her head gently as she glanced at Eleanor. But Eleanor gave her a wink and the footman a small but warm smile.

"Any more requests can be handled by me," she said, turning back to Serena. "And you should go try to rest. This evening will be exhausting, of that I am certain. Everything in here will be taken care of. Now, go take care of yourself."

Serena gave her mother-in-law a grateful look.

"Are you sure, Eleanor?" she asked.

The dowager nodded, still smiling.

"I will simply give the final orders to the staff," she said. "They are excellent at following instructions, and they have yet to disappoint me in their execution of party preparations. I will rest once they have been notified of their duties for the rest of the day. And I want you to do the same."

Serena nodded once more.

"Thank you, Eleanor," she said.

Eleanor patted her shoulder before turning back to the servants. Serena exited the ballroom, taking a deep breath to calm her mind. She wandered through the halls, although hardly aimlessly. She was heading straight for her favorite refuge in Dalenwood Manor. And part of her was hoping that she would once again have company as she enjoyed the beauty and serenity of it.

Much to her delight, Rowan was standing at one of the tall bookshelves in the library, staring up at it thoughtfully. He was breathtakingly handsome in a gray suit with a white cravat, with his chestnut hair combed back and shimmering in the sunlight shining in through the window. His hands were clasped behind his back and his posture was straight. Though she could not see his hazel eyes, she imagined they were studying each book spine with reverence and contemplation.

As if sensing her presence, he turned toward the door. His eyes were indeed scrutinizing. Until they landed on her. As their eyes met, Serena would have sworn she felt a jolt of attraction that could only be likened to lightning. His expression changed at once and he greeted her with a warm smile that nearly stopped her heart.

"Serena," he said, holding out a white gloved hand to her. "Do come in."

Serena blushed under the intensity of the palpable current in the air between them. She obeyed, putting her hand in his and following his lead as he led them to the cushioned bench by the window. She seated herself, her heart pounding as Rowan sat beside her. She didn't realize she was returning his smile until her cheeks began to ache.

"How are the ball preparations going?" he asked.

Serena's heart skipped. He was showing an interest in the event she was planning. It was the first time, apart from their conversations about literature, that he had tried to connect with her by engaging her about her activities. She swallowed a host of butterflies that threatened to bubble from her stomach and out of her throat.

"Very well," she said, smiling sweetly. "The staff is doing the final decorating, and everything is right on schedule."

Rowan grinned and nodded.

"Excellent," he said. "I am very much looking forward to tonight."

Serena's heart replaced the escaping butterflies, and she had to catch her breath. So, Rowan was attending the ball, rather than hiding away in his chambers or his study. The thought made her nearly swoon, and she swallowed to keep from exclaiming her joy through the room.

"As am I," she said.

Rowan gave her a playful wink as he set aside a book she only then noticed he was holding.

"Have you selected your gown for the evening?" she asked. "It would be a shame if we ended up matching yet again."

Serena giggled, thinking about dinner the evening before.

"Oh, heavens, that would be the most criminal of offenses," she said.

Rowan nodded, gazing at her with the smile on his face that she had come to love. But there was something in his eyes, a pain and vulnerability that told her there was so much more that he was keeping secret, as he clearly had for so long. Her heart ached for him, longing to understand and to offer comfort. She felt useless and helpless, blind in her ignorance to what it was that her husband needed to alleviate his sorrow.

"Rowan," she said cautiously. She knew that what she was about to say could ruin the happy atmosphere for the moment and, indeed, for the entire night. But seeing his anguish was tearing at her, and she felt it worth the chance. "I do wish we could discuss the reason why you chose me as your wife." When he looked at her with fearful eyes, she patted his arm. "More every day, I am glad that you did. But I really need to understand why."

Rowan looked away, and Serena was afraid he would close up again. Indeed, he appeared to desperately want to, and Serena held her breath, waiting to see what he would do. But after an impossibly long moment, he took a deep breath, looking into her eyes. The deepened pain and desperation she saw there made her eyes prickle with tears, and she forced them away.

"I have told you a great deal of why things are the way they have been in my life," he said. "But you rightfully perceive that there is more."

Serena nodded, a lump forming in her throat, even as her racing heart tried to escape it. Was he about to tell her the one thing she had been dying to know?

"Yes," she said, recalling what he had said the last time they had had the chance to speak. "We discussed how your father died, and the guilt and shame and weighted sense of duty you have felt since his passing."

Rowan nodded, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"That is correct," he said. "However, it is where that sense of duty came from that plagues me still, alongside all that guilt and shame."

Serena nodded, biting her lip to keep herself from getting too impatient.

"Please, tell me more, Rowan," she said.

Rowan sighed, nodding slowly.

"I never quite took all my duties seriously," he said. "And Father made mention of some of those responsibilities often. After he died, I deeply regretted…" he paused, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "I regretted not taking his advice and making myself more prepared to take over when the time came. After he died, I swore that I would focus on nothing but my duties. That is why I began to take my duties more seriously. I felt that I owed it to him to do nothing but take all my duties seriously."

Serena nodded, listening intently. He still wasn't telling her why he had married her. But his pain was so clear in his every word that she set aside her selfish desire to know for the moment. She reached for him, taking his hand in hers and looking into his eyes.

"I cannot imagine how horrible that must feel," she said. "But I think it is important to remember that death is never our fault. It comes as it pleases, and there is no such thing as a good time. But nothing we do either brings it sooner or delays it. That is a guilt that no one should ever carry. Especially for so many years."

Rowan turned to face her, taking her other hand in his. His sorrow did not lessen, nor did the haunted look of a man who held secrets. But something else began to flicker in his eyes, like the hope of a man burdened by his past, hope that he could soon be free of the heaviness he had carried for so long. The world around them fell away, and all there was left was the two of them.

As if pulled by invisible strings, their lips met in a passionate kiss, and the whole room disappeared. Serena's heart raced, her body alive with new sensations as Rowan's arms wrapped gently around her and pulled her closer. Yet even in that most intimate moment, a voice in Serena's mind whispered to her of the secrets that still lingered. Rowan was slowly opening up, that much was true. But there was much that he seemed unwilling, or unable, to tell her.

As they reluctantly broke apart, Serena searched Rowan's face, trying to decipher the emotions that flickered in rapid sequence across his face. But his expression settled on an unreadable mask, leaving her feeling conflicted and uncertain.

"Excuse me, Serena," he said politely, stepping away from her. "I must go make ready for the ball."

With that, he exited the room, leaving Serena to stare, perplexed, after him. Did he regret the kiss? Had she allowed things to go too far too soon?