A Soldier's Heart by Sherrill Bodine

Author:Sherrill Bodine [Bodine, Sherrill]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Romance, Historical, Regency, Historical Romance, Holidays, Military, FICTION/Romance/Regency
Amazon: B00H1W2HCO
Barnesnoble: B00H1W2HCO
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2013-12-02T05:00:00+00:00

The Courtship

Dawn had given way to dazzling winter sunshine by the time Serena awoke. Copious tears had finally succumbed to the oblivion of slumber. She stretched languorously, then remembered—Blackwood was home. Obviously someone had stopped her maid from waking her with her usual breakfast. Perhaps the duchess had done so in the anticipation Serena might not be alone in her bed.

Memory of the confrontation in the intimacy of her husband’s chamber brought the same anger-laced pain: anger at herself, at Blackwood, at the war, at all that separated them; and pain for the happiness lost. It wasn’t fair! She knew what she wanted, but it seemed impossible—she yearned to go back to those feelings he had inspired in her so long ago. She wanted her husband, heart-whole, charming, and full of ideals, returned to her.

She freely admitted she was no longer as naive and blindly romantic as she’d once been. And with aching regret she acknowledged Blackwood’s view of life was not as glitteringly noble and pure as it had been. But surely there must be something left, some in-between stage where they could come together and recapture all they had lost.

She stared at the closed door that separated them and willed it to open. Suddenly she wanted her father, like a child trusting that a parent could make everything right again. Perhaps if she went back to the beginning, if she recaptured what had been, she could find something to reinspire Blackwood’s regard.

Slipping on her robe, she went to the small cherrywood desk and penned a letter inviting both her father and Buckle to spend the holiday in London. When the letter was waxed and sealed, she rang for her maid. There was no use in putting it off a moment more; she must simply face whatever painful disclosures this day might bring.

Descending the staircase, she held her head high, bolstered by a new frock of jonquil satin with a deep flounce at the hemline and long, tight sleeves ending in a small ruffle over her hands. Chin up, she marched into the dining room and was promptly deflated to find her brave front was to no avail. The only person to witness it was a footman standing at rigid attention by the sideboard laden with silver-covered dishes.

“I had no idea I was so late,” Serena muttered, slipping onto the chair he held for her. “Has everyone else already been served luncheon?”

“The Marquess of Longford and Lord Kendall left this morning for their clubs. Her Grace and Lady Cecily dined early as they had appointments on Bond Street.”

“And Lord Blackwood?” she prompted with what she hoped was a show of calm interest.

“A tray in his room, my lady.” With a deferential nod he turned to prepare her a plate of chops smothered in a mushroom sauce, with a side of buttered peas, followed by a fruit trifle with custard.

Under his eagle eye she felt compelled to do more than move the food about on her plate.

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