Chapter Five

The following morning, as her lady's maid, Christine, helped Serena dress in a lavender silk gown embroidered with cream-colored pearls and lace with matching slippers and shawl, her thoughts were solely on the strange and uncomfortable dance she had shared with the Duke the previous evening. She had managed to enjoy the rest of her debut ball, and her guests had seemed to be utterly delighted and satisfied as they had departed. And yet, her first thoughts had been of the enigmatic duke and his odd, removed behavior.

Although admittedly she knew very little about the duke, she knew that his actions were not those of a refined nobleman. Rather, he had seemed like a man who was going through the motions, engaging and reacting only out of a sense of burdensome duty, rather than of his own free will. In the silence of the time she had spent with him, Serena had tried to read him. But she might as well have been trying to read the works of Shakespeare after losing her sight. It surely would have been an easier task.

When she was dressed, she made her way downstairs to the breakfast room. Her family was already seated, just helping themselves to fresh biscuits and eggs, ham, porridge, and coffee. Her aunt was the first to notice her entrance, grinning brightly at her and patting the seat next to her on the sofa where she sat. In her lap, she held a copy of the newspaper, and as Serena sat down beside her, Imogen held up the paper so that Serena could see.

"Darling, I have been beside myself to read the scandal sheets," she said. "Let us read them together. I am sure there will be plenty of gossip about your ball last night."

Serena nodded, returning her aunt's smile as she read along with her aunt. It didn't take them long to find the headline for which they were searching:

Lady Serena Yardley Unequivocally Named Diamond of the Season.

Imogen gasped softly, putting her fingertips gently to her lips. Serena's smile widened as her cheeks grew warm, and all thoughts of the petulant duke swiftly left her mind. She read on to learn that there was nothing but positive things said about her and her debut ball, down to the raving review of the gown she wore and the notable, pleasant suitors with whom she had danced.

"Sweet little sister," Julian said, gushing as he rose from his seat across from her and enveloped her in a warm, brotherly embrace. "I had no doubt that your ball would be a resounding success, and I was correct in guessing that you would be named diamond. Now that you have, though, it fills me with a bittersweet pride. You deserve such an esteemed honour, to be sure. But I will be fighting off suitors with a cane, I fear."

Serena giggled, buzzing with the delight of such praise and the thrill of being named the season's diamond. She had entered her debut ball with no expectation or hopes of being appointed the title, which was coveted by all young noble ladies. Even after Julian's confidence that it would be hers, she never expected such an unmitigated honor. But she could not deny the excitement and gratitude she felt at learning she had it.

"I am sure that will not be the case, Brother," she said. Her humility was unfounded, as she well knew. She had heard rumors of past season diamonds. She knew that no young lady with the prestigious title ever received fewer than twenty suitors throughout the whole season. Some of them even received potential marriage matches from villages hours away from London, once news reached them. And more than once, diamonds had captured the attention of visiting nobles from France and been whisked away to reign with them in their homeland.

She retrieved her fan from her reticule, trying to cool her burning cheeks before she swooned. She was delighted by all the excitement, but she could not deny that the unexpected honors and accolades were quickly becoming overwhelming. She continued fanning herself as she took a sip of cool orange juice with her free hand. And yet, despite the reeling of her mind, the smile on her face only grew wider. She was sure that the rest of the season would be just as wonderful and enchanting. How could it not?

But in the chatter of her family's excited, proud chattering, one voice was missing. She looked over at her father, whose expression was almost identical to the one he had worn the previous morning. Now growing concerned, Serena scooted closer to her father, placing a gentle hand on his knee.

"Father, are you all right?" she asked softly.

Despite the gentleness with which she spoke and touched him, the earl jumped. He whipped his head up to look at his family, all of which was now looking at him after his abrupt jerking in his seat. Unlike the previous morning, however, Peter Yardley gave his daughter a smile that was just a little too wide and a little more like a wince than a grin. A cold ball of something that Serena couldn't identify began slowly forming in the pit of her stomach as her father shook his head.

"Yes," he said, despite his head alluding to the contrary. "I am perfectly well."

Serena nodded as Julian and her aunt went back to their conversation about plans for a party that Imogen wished to throw to celebrate Serena's debut success. Serena couldn't be bothered to pay attention to the cheerful talk, however. She couldn't tear her gaze away from her father. Even though his words should have been reassuring, his tone was mechanical and tense. She furrowed her brow, wanting to assure her father that she would listen if something was troubling him. But the earl quickly rose, bumping into his chair as he did so and nearly knocking it to the ground.

"Do forgive me, darling, but I just remembered an urgent business matter to which I must attend," he said. Now, he sounded nervous and shady, and Serena's heart thudded in her chest. That was the second time in as many days that her father had made the same, unconvincing excuse for leaving breakfast early. She had never seen the earl in such a state. To her knowledge, no one ever saw Peter Yardley so much frustrated with a bad business deal or an unreliable partner. A shared glance with her aunt told her that Imogen had never seen her brother-in-law like that, either. What was going on with her father?

As breakfast concluded, the butler bustled into the room wearing a wide smile.

"Lady Serena," he said, bowing deeply. "Your suitors have begun arriving."

Serena was still so distracted by her father's recent strange behavior that she almost forgot what the butler was talking about. But then, it occurred to her that as the season's diamond, she would begin receiving streams of suitors immediately after her debut. She looked nervously at her aunt, who offered her hand and rose with Serena from her seat.

"Come, sweetheart," she said with a knowing wink. "We mustn't keep your suitors waiting."

Serena giggled despite herself, pushing her worry to the back of her mind. She looked back at the butler, giving him a warm smile.

"Thank you, Nathaniel," she said. "Who is the first suitor?"

The butler's grin widened.

"There are two waiting in the parlor," he said. "But the first is Lord Brower, Marquess of Browmund. He is waiting in the foyer for my command as to where you are awaiting him."

Serena took a deep breath, suddenly feeling a different kind of nervous. She was giddy at the idea that there were already three potential marriage matches vying for her attention, and it wasn't even yet noon. It felt surreal that even three men would be interested in her. But it was even more ethereal that there would be even more suitors by day's end. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she curtseyed to the butler.

"Thank you, Nathaniel," she said. "Tell him that I shall receive him in the music room," she said.

The butler bowed, giving her another warm, proud smile.

"Right away, milady," he said.

When he had gone, Serena and Imogen slipped out of the breakfast room, hurrying to the music room before Nathaniel and the marquess arrived. Imogen smoothed the fabric of her lavender skirt and tucked a loose curl back beneath the lavender flower tiara that rested on her head.

"Are you ready, darling?" her aunt asked, keeping her voice low.

Serena took a deep breath and nodded.

"I believe so," she said. "Oh, this is all so exciting and frightening all at once."

Imogen nodded knowingly, stroking her niece's cheek.

"I know it is, sweetheart," she said. "But there is no one more deserving of this honour than you. And I know that you will be the perfect hostess to your suitors."

Serena squared her shoulders and stood beside her aunt, giving her a nod.

"Thank you," she said. "I will do my best to make you proud." But as the marquess entered the room with a large bouquet of gardenias, Serena's confidence wavered. What if she couldn't attend to her would-be suitors on account of her concerns about her father's behavior?

Lord Brower, as it happened, was as dull as they came, both with his bland brown hair and eyes, sharp nose and thin lips and plain gray suit, and with his personality. He was perfectly polite, complimenting her dress and the way it made her blue eyes sparkle. But beyond that, all he talked about was the stock market and how investments through his broker worked. He had no real interests apart from the market, and according to him, he spent his free time studying updates in prominent industries to plan his next investment opportunities. Serena was too happy to see him go less than half an hour later.

The next suitor was Lord John Davis, the earl of Davidshire. He was very handsome, with black hair, pale brown eyes that perfectly matched the suit and bowler hat he wore, tanned skin, and a dimple in his right cheek when he smiled. He came bearing a box of fresh almond sweetmeats and a single white rose.

"I shall never forget your exquisite beauty with that white rose in your hair last evening," he said. "It will be imprinted on my mind until my dying breath."

Serena blushed, accepting her gifts with grace and poise.

"Thank you, Lord Davidshire," she said, anticipating a pleasant and delightful conversation with the earl. "Please, have a seat."

However, that was the most pleasant and delightful part of their visit. In fact, it was the only part that had anything to do with her. She discovered very quickly that the earl was very self-absorbed, speaking about his wealth and how he would be inheriting a dukedom when his ailing father passed away. He spoke with excitement about taking the title from his father, rather than with sadness or worry about his well-being. And he talked about the women who batted their eyelashes at him when he attended social events. Serena was thrilled when Nathaniel announced the next suitor and showed out the earl.

Next was Lord Samuel Hawthorne. His shoulder-length red hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail at the base of his skull, with a strand hanging down in his face, just to the side of one of his sparkling green eyes. His purple suit was just a couple shades darker than her lavender dress, and it suited his pale complexion well, she thought. He held out the most beautiful bouquet of every color and species of rose that could be found in London. The bouquet was bigger than she could hold in her slender hands, so he gripped it in his arms while she drew in the fragrance of the sweet roses.

"I do not yet know which is your favourite kind of rose," he said. "So, I decided to get you one of each."

Serena blushed, smiling at the gentleman.

"Roses are my favourite flowers," she said. "I suppose if I had a favourite, it would be pink. But I love them all so equally that it's hard to say."

Lord Hawthorne grinned, gently handing the bouquet to Nathaniel, who hurried off to see that they were properly cared for, and then taking Serena's gloved hand, kissing her fingers chastely.

"I am partial to roses, myself," he said. "My mother taught me an appreciation for our gardens when I was a young boy, and even as a grown man, I still adore walking through a lovely rose-filled garden."

Serena beamed at the gentleman with awe as his green eyes lit up as he spoke of gardens and roses.

"I can never spend enough time in the garden here," she said. "And I am in love with the gardens at Hyde Park."

Lord Hawthorne gave her another delighted smile, his nose and cheeks wrinkling, giving her a view of the light dusting of freckles that rested there.

"I could never get enough of seeing the flowers at Hyde Park if I lived a hundred lifetimes," he said.

Serena felt butterflies as she stared into Lord Hawthorne's eyes. She gestured for him to sit with her on the sofa behind where she stood. He complied, never taking his eyes off hers. She was suddenly self-conscious, worried that the conversation would become strained and awkward from there. She held her breath, praying she wouldn't be wrong about him as she had been about the previous gentleman.

"Tell me," he said, his eyes turning playfully mischievous. "How much does a white bear weigh?"

Serena studied the gentleman's dancing eyes for only a moment before she understood what he was doing. It was a joke, one which she didn't know, but suddenly wanted to understand very much.

"How much?" she asked, stifling a giggle as she anticipated the punchline.

"Enough to break the ice," he said.

Serena burst into immediate laughter, understanding the joke immediately. The marquess's son joined her, his deep voice lending a rich tone to the merriment.

"That is a wonderful joke," she said.

The gentleman shrugged humbly.

"I cannot take credit for it," he said. "But my father always says that it's a good ice breaker in first conversations."

Serena giggled again, thinking about how clever he was.

"He is absolutely correct," she said.

Lord Hawthorne gaped at her with mock horror, dramatically putting his hand over his heart and shaking his head.

"Please, never let him hear you say that," he said.

Serena laughed again as the gentleman's face turned into another broad, playful grin. She liked him immediately, his wit and charm having pulled her in with seemingly no effort.

As they talked, she discovered that they shared a love for literature, which he loved as much as she did. He had also done a fair bit of traveling, and he was more than happy to answer any of her questions about the places he had visited, the languages he had studied and learned and the trinkets and artifacts he had collected from each one. Her heart skipped more each time his eyes lit up with a new tale to tell her. She hung on his every word, as he did hers. By the end of their time together, Serena was beside herself at the prospect of getting to know him better, as the connection between them was undeniable.

She spent the rest of the day repeating the process of accepting suitors and their gifts, talking with them for a time and then sending them on their way to greet the next. There were a few more who were quite taken with themselves, a couple more who were even more boring than Lord Brower and a few who were clearly only seeking her affections to gain advantages with a marriage to a wealthy, well-respected earl's daughter. Yet as the day progressed, her thoughts kept turning to Lord Hawthorne. The easy rapport they shared thrilled her each time she thought about him. She found herself comparing all the other suitors to him. And even the two who were almost as witty and kind as he had been were still no match for his effortless charm and genuine interest in her thoughts and opinions.

As the last of the suitors took his leave, Serena excused herself from her aunt and sought the quite solace of the library. Settling into a comfortable chair between the two tallest oak bookshelves, she let herself fall straight into Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. As she read, her own thoughts of finding her one true love swirled in her mind. She imagined herself as the protagonist of the story, thinking of the world as the wife of a man who adored her just as she did him.

The grand success of her debut ball, the attention of so many eligible bachelors and the promise of a beautiful future with a man like Lord Hawthorne filled her with hope and anticipation. For the moment, all the anxiety about her father was gone. All she could see was the rest of her life exactly as she had dreamed since she was a young girl. And nothing could ever take that feeling away from her.