Page 62 of A Lord Apart (The Way to a Lord's Heart 2)

Your ever friend,

Serena

Daniel raised his eyes and gazed at his lovely companion. She seemed transfixed by what she’d heard. “They were at school together,” she said.

“Apparently.”

“Mama never told me much about her school days.”

“Neither did mine.” Of course she’d never told him anything.

“I had the impression she enjoyed them.”

Daniel said nothing, because he had noimpressionsto share.

Miss Pendleton blinked, unfolded the first letter in her pile, and read, “Dear Serene Serena.”

“Ha,” said Daniel. He wouldn’t have called his mother serene. Cold, perhaps. Indifferent. But not serene.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Too curious about the letters to wonder at his stern expression, Penelope read on.

Dear Serene Serena,

I was so surprised to hear that you are marrying after all. How often did you vow that you never would? And you are to be a viscountess! I must imagine you in an ermine cloak and coronet. Splendid, I’m sure, but what about the life of adventure and dark intrigue you plotted? Nay, insisted upon. You had such plans! I hate to think you have given them up in just one (glorious, I’m sure) season. However, I don’t wish to sound critical. I will be delighted with anything, or anyone, who makes you happy. I trust you to judge what that will be.

And of course I wished to hear your confidences. As you know very well. Just as you welcomed mine. Did we not both marvel at how easily we fell into friendship? And what a rare gift it was, to find a kindred spirit.

Your forever friend,

Kate

“A kindred spirit. But Mama never even mentioned her to me.” Penelope found this omission surprisingly hurtful. She’d thought of herself as her mother’s closest confidante, and believed she’d known the important things about her. “I knew she went to a young ladies’ seminary in Bath.”

“I never heard even that much.” Whitfield’s tone was harsh. “‘Adventure and dark intrigue.’ What nonsense.” He picked up the next letter in the sequence, frowning at it, and read.

Dear Kate,

How I miss your jokes. No one else in the world calls me Serene Serena—for very good reason, as we know! I can almost hear your laugh as you say it. I wish I really could. But you are miles away in Lancashire, and I am fixed in London for the present.

As to that, the season was not glorious but tedious in the extreme. I hope you are not still sad about missing it. Society is a wasteland of time frittered away and money lavished on trivialities. I cannot tell you how many evenings I simply gritted my teeth and endured, like Prometheus chained to his crag with the eagle ripping at his entrails.

“That sounds more like her,” Daniel interjected. “My mother was fond of exaggerated comparisons. Spoken with genial contempt. And very amusing to her, if no one else.”

“And she didn’t care for society apparently,” said Miss Pendleton.

“No. She made a point of avoiding it.” And her home and her son, Daniel thought. He read on.

Be assured that I havenotabandoned my plans. I simply discovered how little scope one has as a young lady on her own, at least of the sort I want. Marriage seems to be a necessity. Fortunately, I have found just the sort of husband I require. I’ve exacted a promise from him that I shall have my adventures. I’ve also spoken with my father’s friend, as I told you I would. He was most interested in my idea, particularly when he saw how carefully I’d laid it out. And heard of the alliance I have engaged myself to make. I shall get what I want, have no fear.

Your ever friend,

Serena

Daniel scowled down at the page. “It sounds as if she was simply making use of my father,” he said. At some point, early on in his life, he’d decided that theirs was a love story for the ages. They were always off traveling together because they were a charmed twosome, he’d concluded, a world complete unto themselves. The idea had even reconciled him, a little, to being always on the outside. Now the phrasethe sort of husband I requireseemed to contradict that theory.

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