Page 12 of The Duke's Concealed Vow
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 ifshe 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 Nathanielannounced 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 Parkif 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.
