Page 26 of Courting the Duke (Reimagined Regency #2)

“We are home, my lady.” Hoxton released Serena’s hand and retrieved his hat in preparation for exiting the carriage.

“Home.” The word brought tears to her eyes.

She hadn’t truly had a home since her father’s passing, and her mother had moved her into her aunt’s house.

Before tragedy and loss struck her family, Serena had been blessed with a happy home life, marked by much laughter and love.

Willing herself not to cry, she watched as the carriage pulled up in front of Hoxton House, the whitewashed walls of the native stone adding to the estate’s grandeur.

Serena eyed the line of servants waiting outside the entry to greet their new mistress.

Storm clouds hung in the distance, but they were far enough away to be of no immediate concern.

Nervousness continued to clutch at her stomach, but it was Hoxton’s presence that gave her courage.

A servant opened the door, and Hoxton jumped down first. He faced Serena with an encouraging smile.

With one palm up, he waited for her to lay her hand in his.

She complied with his silent request and descended from the carriage.

Roxanne had gifted Serena with an exquisite gown to wear for their wedding ceremony.

The lovely peach silk gave her an added boost of confidence.

Serena wished to present herself well for Hoxton.

The moment her slippers touched the graveled drive, a thrill of excitement shot through her, along with trepidation.

The last time she’d walked through these doors, she’d been a mere companion with hopes that Roxanne would become the new duchess.

She had hoped to eventually live here, but as Roxanne’s secretary, not as the mistress of the house. How things had changed.

“Come, I will introduce you to the staff,” Hoxton said, tucking her hand under his arm. Although the servants were only about fifteen feet away, it felt like miles. “I believe you are acquainted with Mrs. Kelly, the housekeeper.”

The housekeeper stepped forward, a slender woman with raven black hair and a ready smile.

Serena had spoken to the woman about Lady Roxanne’s wants and needs when she had arrived two weeks before and found her to be pleasant.

“Lady Hoxton, we are very pleased to welcome you to Hoxton House,” Mrs. Kelly said.

“Thank you. It is a pleasure to be here.” Serena slid her gaze back to the house, with its black-painted shutters against the chalky white stone. She could hardly credit that she would spend the rest of her life there with the alluring man standing next to her.

Hoxton provided the names of the staff, starting with the scullery maid and the coal boy, before they continued up the ranks. He spoke to each one, sharing a small tidbit about them. Serena listened with care, trying to memorize everything she possibly could about each person.

By the time they reached the highest-ranking servants, her nerves were at an all-time high. At her aunt’s house, the upper servants either treated her as an inconvenience or were uncomfortable in her presence.

Thus far, everybody smiled with friendliness. Granted, it would behoove each one to remain in her good graces no matter their personal feelings toward her. The scandal surrounding her marriage had been setting tongues to wagging across society, and through the servants’ network, she was sure of it.

“Thank you, Mrs. Kelly. You and the staff may go about your business.” Hoxton took Serena’s elbow, the familiarity sending warm tingles up her arm.

Tonight, she would genuinely be his spouse, and despite her uncertainty regarding their future, she desired to remain with him.

Whether he wanted to be with her was the question.

From their kisses in the carriage, he definitely desired her.

While she had dreamed of true love in the past, companionship was equally, if not more, important than romantic love.

Love might fade, but friendship would bond them together.

The front doors opened as if by magic, although she understood a servant was behind them.

So often, people of her class forgot about the hidden souls who made their lives easier.

Hoxton had just demonstrated that he understood as well.

She often wondered that if she hadn’t herself been in the position of a servant, would she have recognized her privilege?

As the mistress of the house, she was responsible for everyone in it, including her husband.

“Lady Imogene and Lady Ava are in the blue drawing room,” the footman said.

“Please tell my aunt that Lady Serena and I will join her shortly.” Hoxton removed his outerwear, and she followed his lead, eager to be alone with him for a while longer. “I believe it’s customary for the man of the house to show his new wife the estate.”

“I would like that.” It wasn’t customary, but Serena merely nodded, her pulse picking up in anticipation.

The entrance hall boasted staircases on each side.

He guided her to the one on the left that led to the family wing.

Her room and his would be there. A blush warmed her cheeks, and she tried not to think that far ahead.

“Lady Roxanne toured the portrait hall, but I don’t think you were with us.” Hoxton settled his hands on his hips and moved down a long hallway full of portraits.

“No, I was absent that afternoon.” Her aunt had insisted that Serena polish her jewelry while she toured the house with her daughter.

“A pity, but I have since discovered a treasure that I am most anxious to show you.” He stopped before a portrait of a man in a green French silk striped coat and tan waistcoat, his white wig curling around his angular face. “This is my uncle at my current age. As you can tell, we looked similar.”

“I can see the resemblance. He was very handsome,” she said with an ironic grin.

Hoxton turned his head toward her, his serious expression brightening. “I am pleased you think so.” He prompted her to consider the portrait of a woman in a white gown with powdered hair and a mischievous glint to her smile. “This is my grandmother.”

“If her dress hadn’t given away the age of the portrait, I would say this was Daisy.

The resemblance is strong.” While not beautiful like Roxanne, Lady Diana possessed pleasant features in a heart-shaped face.

Serena studied the woman in the portrait, wondering how the duchess had reacted to her marriage to Hoxton.

Roxanne had told her that Aunt had sent a complaint to Lady Diana.

No doubt, she put Serena in a bad light.

“Daisy does resemble her in countenance. Of course, you have met my grandmother. She might no longer look like this but there is still a strong likeness.”

“I’ve never met the dowager duchess, Lady Diana formally, but have seen her from afar.” Serena was never invited. Her aunt considered her deformity an embarrassment and wouldn’t present her to the duchess on her rare visits.

Bitterness twisted her lips, and she looked down, trying to swallow the negative feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. This was a happy time, and she wanted to remember every moment with Hoxton as a new beginning.

“I wasn’t privy to your lack of engagement with my grandmother.

It seems rather odd, since Lady Roxanne is her goddaughter.

” Hoxton continued to walk down the gallery, his lips turned down.

He stopped before another portrait of an Elizabethan woman with an elaborate ruff around her neck and a bejeweled bodice that pushed her ample cleavage impossibly high above her corset.

“She is lovely.” Serena ignored the loaded question. She had stopped questioning her aunt’s motives years before.

“She is the first Duchess of Hoxton.” He studied the portrait for a long moment, not saying anything.

“You have her eyes.” She admired the artist’s skill. Her father had been talented with oils and tried to teach her how to paint. She had a fair hand, but Brandon was the one who took after their father.

“We will have to commission a portrait of us to commemorate our marriage.” Hoxton glanced down at her, one brow lifted in question.

No doubt he expected her to protest the request. She nodded, proud at the notion that she would be immortalized with him. “My father often said that a true portrait artist can paint the soul of a subject yet fool the naked eye into believing it is their true likeness.”

“In other words, he didn’t paint a true likeness of his subject, but what they wanted to see of themselves.” He nodded at his own statement before turning toward her.

“Or what society’s expectation of beauty is. Upon examination of the portraits lining this hall, you will probably notice a subtle nuance in the face and forms of those pictured.” She’d been taught to appreciate art with a more critical eye than most.

“Beauty ideals change with time.” Hoxton lifted her chin with his fingertip until their eyes met. With an amused smile, he played his lips over hers in a gentle kiss before withdrawing.

“Some tendencies never change.” She was aware of her imperfections more than most. Luckily, her father was able to use his influence at court to find a surgeon worthy of fixing her cleft lip and giving her a semblance of normality.

The scar on her lip was noticeable to anyone who looked at her, but she hadn’t truly thought it hideous until she moved into her aunt’s house.

Her aunt had never let her forget her scar, nor had she defended Serena to others, instead finding great pleasure in ridiculing her. “However, I am certain the artist can gloss over my scar and still retain my likeness.”

“I think you should embrace your scars, not hide them.” Hoxton caressed her lip with a gentle thumb, desire reflected in his darkened pupils.

A touch of amusement quirked his lips. “You are the Duchess of Hoxton, and it is in your power to make it fashionable to have scars on your top lip. People in society will be disfiguring themselves on your behalf to be like you.”

Laughter spilled forth at his silly comment. “You might mean it in jest, but people in the French court actually did have surgery on their, um, bums, to gain the King’s favor.” It flummoxed her that people would go to such depths to curry favor.

His grin widened at her comment, and he shook his head. “We shall have to wait and find out.”

“Indeed, we shall.” Hope for her future continued to grow, and she wanted to stay with him like this, away from the harsh world.

Voices from the end of the hall broke them apart.

He stood tall, a feverish expression in his eyes that mirrored her own yearning for privacy with him.

Was this what it was like with other women, or was she simply desperate for affection?