Chapter Four

Serena had been stunned by how attractive the duke of Dalenwood was. His short, chestnut colored hair shimmered in the light from the chandeliers, and his hazel eyes, with their green, gray-blue and gold hues, were mesmerizing to her. However, he had quickly proved to be very aloof and cold. Even his smiles to her were stiff and practiced, as though he would rather be doing anything apart from interacting with her.

She hadn't expected to catch positive attention from every gentleman present at her ball. But she had thought she would only dance with the ones who were interested in calling on her in the days and weeks following the ball. If the duke had no such intentions, and felt only obligation to dance with her, why had he asked?

She was so lost in the steps of the dance, which the duke was performing with mechanical, dispassionate precision, and in her pondering about His Grace, that she nearly gasped loudly when he stomped on her foot. Fire shot up the side of her foot and ankle, and she bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from vocally and visibly reacting to the surprise and pain. She stopped mid-step so as to prevent another mishap until the duke regained his bearings. When he squared his shoulders, she waited for him to speak. Instead, however, he merely began the dance again as though nothing had happened.

She frowned in disappointment. She knew they were both aware of the etiquette of such accidents during a formal dance. And yet, the Duke of Dalenwood had not even attempted to apologize. Rather, he had seemed to pretend that he had not embarrassed both of them and hurt her. The lingering throb made her fear that she would be rendered unable to dance before the night had ended, and she wanted to speak up about the situation. But the duke now avoided her gaze, leaving her no appropriate opportunity to mention it to him. She could address him without making eye contact. But it was poor form. And it was her debut ball. She decided that, despite her disillusionment at the duke's lack of manners, she would simply let go of the matter and try to enjoy the rest of her party.

As the dance wore on, her distaste for the lack of acknowledgment of the Duke stepping on her foot gave way to curiosity and intrigue. Determined to engage the duke, she beamed sweetly up at him.

"Your Grace," she said. "I seem to have forgotten my manners. How are you enjoying yourself this evening?"

The duke looked down at her, for a moment allowing surprise at her interaction take over the cold detachment that had clouded his features since they made their way onto the dance floor. But it was gone in an instant, and the same distant look had returned to his features.

"Very well," he said blandly.

Serena blinked, more hurt than insulted. It seemed that it was a chore to him to even hold polite conversation with her as they danced. Once more, she questioned the duke's motives for asking her to dance. And for the first time that evening, she prayed for the dance to end.

Still, she wasn't one to give up so easily, especially on such an important night. She pretended that she hadn't been fazed by the abrupt reply, continuing to hold the duke's gaze.

"Do you enjoy literature?" she asked sweetly.

The duke gave a short nod, seeming to look more through her than at her.

"If I have the time to read," he said.

Serena's smile softened. At last, she was getting somewhere with the Duke of Dalenwood. She tried again, thinking she might get him to warm up, after all.

"Who is your favourite author?" she asked.

The duke shrugged.

"I could not choose," he said, just as flatly as every other response he had given her.

Serena heaved a mental sigh. So much for making progress with the strange duke of Dalenwood. She considered striking a different conversation with him. But her mood was rapidly souring. She did not wish to spend the remainder of the evening stewing about how irritating and elusive the duke was.

To her great relief, the final strains of the cotillion faded through the ballroom. She gave the duke a polite smile as he offered his arm to lead her off the dance floor, looking through him as he had done to her as she accepted. She fixed her gaze forward as they abandoned their dancing positions. She could hardly wait to get away from the most infuriating gentleman she had ever met.

As with during the dance, no conversation was successfully made. The tension between the pair was palpable, and Serena began to wonder if it was possible that she could have offended the duke without realizing it. She knew she hadn't spoken to him before that evening, when her father introduced her to him. Which, now that she thought about it, had been the strangest exchange she had seen with her father all evening.

The two men had exchanged knowing looks and strained pleasantries, but Serena now attributed that to the duke's demeanor. Yet something was plaguing her about the way her father had watched her during the introductions. Had he looked guilty? And was the Duke looking at him with cumbersome regret?

She spotted Olivia engaged in animated conversation with Imogen. Serena smiled for the first time since meeting the duke as he led her to where her aunt and best friend stood laughing. She cast a sly glance at the duke to see if his expression would change. To her frustration, it did. He now wore a perfectly polite smile, rather than the disinterested frown he had had while they danced.

It was enough to drive Serena mad. But she knew she couldn't allow it to continue bothering her. She had more guests to entertain and more gentlemen with whom to dance. If the duke wished to be obtuse, so be it. She would be finished with him for good soon enough. But for that moment, she had a few minutes to spend with her two favorite people. And since the duke seemed eager to get rid of her, she would simply become just as ready to be rid of him.

Once they reached the two women, Serena gently but firmly removed her hand from the duke's arm. He didn't seem to notice, his fake smile remaining unchanged. She curtseyed under her aunt's watchful gaze, giving him a rehearsed smile of her own.

"Thank you for such a lovely dance, Your Grace," she said, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

The Duke gave her a stiff bow and nod.

"It was an honour," he said.

Without so much as a congratulations, or even an acknowledgement of her name, the duke turned and made a beeline back through the crowd. He was gone before Serena could blink, and she was left once again pondering his strangeness. Was he a hermit nobleman who never left his mansion? And if so, why had he chosen her ball, of all ton events, to attend? She doubted that was the case. But compared to the other gentlemen she had met that evening, it would have made perfect sense. One would be forgiven for thinking that he had never spoken to another human being in his entire life. Or, at least, not to a woman.

"Serena, darling," Olivia murmured, pressing her lips close to Serena's ear so as to not be overheard by nearby guests as she handed her a glass of lemonade. "I do believe that you just danced with the most attractive man in attendance here."

Serena sighed, taking the drink from her friend.

"Thank you, Olivia," she said, raising the glass. "But I just learned that not every handsome face has a personality of something more than linen."

Olivia laughed loudly, gaining them glances from nearby couples. But when she saw that Serena was not laughing, her smile fell.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Was he crass with you? Did he say something offensive to you?"

Serena shook her head, glancing out at the crowd and feeling no surprise when she saw no sign of the duke.

"He did not say anything at all," she said. "He was as cold as a dead fish from the instant we were introduced, and he was impossible to engage in conversation."

Olivia's brow furrowed.

"Perhaps, he is simply nervous," she said.

Serena shook her head.

"His eyes looked as though he detested every second he had to be in my presence," she said. "And that's not even the worst part."

Olivia blinked in surprised disbelief.

"Oh, heavens," she said. "What happened?"

Serena recounted the mishap when the duke had stomped on her foot and had not even tried to apologize. Olivia's mouth fell open and she shook her head.

"Who would have thought that a duke could be so uncouth?" she asked. "And if he is so unhappy to be here, why did he attend?"

Serena shrugged and sighed.

"My thoughts exactly," she said.

As she sipped her lemonade, she glanced around the ballroom. All the other guests appeared to be thrilled to be there, laughing and talking amongst one another. Serena even made the briefest of eye contact with a few gentlemen who were looking right at her, smiling the instant they noticed her looking in their direction. She could guess that they were each hoping for an opportunity to speak with her, or perhaps to ask her to dance. Yet she couldn't stop thinking about the duke. No matter how many wonderful dances she had that evening, she was sure she would never forget the time she spent with the Duke of Dalenwood.

As though drawn by a magnet, her eyes drifted directly to the strange duke, who had so far evaded her searching eyes. But he was not alone. He seemed to be engaged in a tense and troubled conversation with someone. When the guest blocking the view of the person to whom the duke was speaking, moved away, her own mouth gaped. It was her father, and he looked just as nervous as he had the past couple of days. As much so as his Grace did.

Intrigued by the unexpected exchange, Serena observed them for a few moments. The men were standing closely together, too far away from her for her to be able to try to read their lips. But they seemed to be speaking urgently, and the few glimpses she got of her father's eyes were because they darted anxiously around the ballroom. But the most unsettling thing to her was when she returned her focus to the duke. He was looking right at her.

The instant their eyes met, she saw a flicker of something unreadable. A current, like a lightening bolt, passed between them, jolting her to her core with its power. It was something she could not identify. However, she did understand that it was not good. As if to confirm her suspicion, the duke quickly looked away to address her father once more. Then, the two men quickly disappeared out onto the terrace.

Unease swallowed Serena as she watched them leave the ballroom. There was something unnerving about the duke of Dalenwood, and it was only magnified after witnessing the strange interaction between her father and him. He was a perplexing mix of mystery and a palpable unhappiness that surrounded him like a nasty storm cloud. It was as if anyone who got too close to him would be covered in the hail that threatened to burst the cloud that followed him. Her curiosity was piqued, but not in any pleasant sense. The same apprehension that had been flirting with her conscious mind engulfed her senses, and the urge to flee her own ball became almost overwhelming.

"Dearest debutante," said a familiar, welcomed voice from behind her. Serena turned to see a smiling Julian, holding out his arm to his sister. "Might I steal you away for a dance?"

Serena smiled gratefully at the playful glint in her brother's eyes. She had never been gladder to see Julian than she was right then, and she practically melted into him, relieved for the comfort and distraction that a dance with him would afford her.

"I would be more delighted than you can imagine, Brother," she said.