Page 33 of The Duke's Concealed Vow
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 simultaneouslyrealized 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 gardenthat 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.”
