Page 4 of Courting the Duke (Reimagined Regency #2)

“Your solicitousness towards her is well warranted, Your Grace.” Every fiber in Serena’s being was aware of Hoxton, no matter how many times she told herself not to be.

The truth was that his invitation rattled her.

She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and she caught several ladies eyeing her with a mixture of envy and distrust. Regardless of Serena’s discomfort, Roxanne needed her.

“I hold my cousin in the highest esteem.”

“As well you should.” Hoxton directed his gaze in Roxanne’s direction but his expression was unreadable. He seemed a very good-natured sort and Serena had faith that he would make her a good husband.

“She is well accomplished as you’ve heard.” Serena had her own reasons for wanting a successful match. Secondary to her cousin’s happiness, she sought to become Roxanne’s secretary, thus cementing her own future. “And she is very fond of animals.”

Just not birds, which might prove an issue in the upcoming days.

“I am pleased to hear that.” Hoxton perked up at the comment.

Blackstone leaned close to Roxanne. Handsome in a rather brooding sort of way, Serena instantly distrusted the soot-haired gentleman. His rather aggressive pursuit of Roxanne was off-putting. However, Roxanne took it in stride and had become skillful at avoiding him when warranted.

“Tell me, Lady Roxanne, what is your favorite bird?” Hoxton asked, his head tilted in a manner that better displayed his firm jaw. He had a tiny scar near his ear that cut into his well-trimmed sideburns. Serena couldn’t help but admire what an attractive couple they would make.

“None of them.” Roxanne shuddered and shook her head before she pressed her lips together.

She looked fearfully at Serena. For once, she actually spoke the truth.

Even though her mother had harped nonstop to never admit to a man who was a bird enthusiast that Roxanne did not like birds. “I mean some?”

“Is that a question or a statement?” Hoxton’s expression tightened the slightest bit, but his smile stayed in place. An avid birder, he would no doubt take offense at her contempt for the creatures.

“What she means is that she doesn’t have a favorite.” Serena tried to steer the conversation to safer ground. She couldn’t be quiet and allow Roxanne to dig herself deeper into a hole. “I showed her the lovely book on birds you gave me today.”

“Indeed, quite lovely. The blue tits especially,” Roxanne said, her face flushed a rosy hue.

Rather than detract, it added to her beauty.

Most gentlemen drooled over her cousin, and even if she insulted them, they merely overlooked the slight.

She didn’t do it with malice. It was simply her innocence.

With a nod, Hoxton lifted his glass and took a sip of ruby wine. The scar on his finger was visible in the candlelight, a few more crisscrossing the golden skin of his hand. She couldn’t tell if her lie was convincing or not. Regardless, he hid his true feelings adeptly.

“I once saw a fan in a window on Bond Street that was made from peacock feathers.” Roxanne’s face lit up, her enthusiasm contagious. All eyes went to her, not an unusual occurrence. “I told Mama to look at the pretty peacock feathers.”

“Did you purchase it?” Hoxton watched her with keen interest, a smile playing around his mouth. He appeared genuinely interested in her answer.

Roxanne’s face fell before she caught herself.

Aunt Agatha scolded Roxanne for any expression she deemed unflattering for her daughter.

With her great beauty, nothing Roxanne could do would make her look unattractive, save for being cruel to others.

And for some men, that wouldn’t tip the scales.

“Mama said it wouldn’t suit me because I shouldn’t wish to stand out like a peacock but rather be the gently bred lady I am. ”

Lady Clarkingham’s words came out of her daughter’s mouth, and Serena once again tried not to wince.

Roxanne never truly had an opinion of her own because she was not allowed to have one that differed from her mother’s.

Serena had tried to engage her and bolster her confidence, but it was difficult to repair eighteen years of belittling and browbeating.

“Hoxton has peacocks on the south lawn,” Lady Imogene said.

From what Serena’s aunt claimed, his aunt had been tasked by Hoxton’s grandmother to ensure a match between the houses of Hoxton and Clarkingham.

The match would be advantageous all around.

Save for one minor issue: Roxanne’s heart belonged to another.

If Lady Agatha found out, there would be hell to pay.

Blackstone angled his head, clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. In addition to Stiller, he was always underfoot. His infatuation, unlike Stiller’s innocent one with Roxanne, was almost obsessive.

“Perhaps he can take you to view them.” Lady Imogene nodded to a servant who brought the next course. “The garden on the south side of the house is exquisite.”

“If that is his wish.” Roxanne stared down at the bowl of fish soup, her hand hovering over the spoon before she picked it up.

She dipped it into the broth and lifted it to her mouth.

To the casual observer, she appeared to be eating, but she never truly took a bite.

The countess didn’t allow her daughter to eat in public.

Serena thought it was silly, but she had no say in the matter.

Only Roxanne could stand up for herself.

Serena stared down at the soup and spied lumps of crab. Regret turned the corners of her mouth down. She dared not eat any for fear of becoming ill.

Hoxton caught Serena’s eye. “Is the soup not to your liking?”

The man was too observant for her liking. She chose her words with care lest she insult him. Although from what she’d observed thus far, he wasn’t quick to take offense. “It looks lovely.”

Frowning, he tilted his head to study the soup. Golden flecks in his striking eyes, enhanced by long lashes, caught the candlelight’s glow, giving them a liquid sheen. “If it is not to your liking, I can ring for something else.”

“Oh no, do not bother. I am fine with the soup.” Serena continued to stare at the soup. She simply adored crab, but alas, it didn’t adore her.

“You aren’t eating, therefore I can only assume you are being polite.” He placed his own spoon above the soup, seeming to consider whether or not he should partake of it.

“For the sake of politeness, please do not concern yourself.” She hated to make a spectacle of herself, and while she admired his solicitousness, she didn’t wish it directed at her.

“I am always concerned about my guests’ welfare.” He placed his spoon back down and lifted his wineglass instead.

Surely he wasn’t eating simply because she wasn’t? If that were indeed the case, she’d nip this in the bud. “In your concern, you are making this guest uncomfortable.”

“Ah, I see.” Rather than get upset, he grinned at her quip over the rim of his glass. He leaned in her direction and spoke in a low voice. “Once again, I have assumed too much in your case.”

Although she didn’t wish to get too personal with him, she decided that the truth was in order. “Indeed. The soup looks delicious, but I am afraid crab doesn’t agree with me. Perhaps the next course will be more friendly to my humors.”

“If that is your wish, I will honor it.” He set his glass back down, the wine leaving legs on the glass. The dining room, like the rest of Hoxton House, boasted high-polished wooden accents and the finest crystal glasses and porcelain dishes.

“You may feel free to eat your soup,” Serena said.

She glanced at Lady Imogene to see if she was paying attention to their conversation.

She liked the petite ginger-haired woman with a ready smile.

She’d been kind to Serena and Roxanne, and on occasion, Lady Imogene stood up for the girl to her mother.

The woman was chatting with Blackstone and Roxanne, deftly steering the conversation.

Another thing Serena was grateful for, Lady Imogene’s intervention on Roxanne’s behalf.

Granted, she was protecting her nephew’s interests, but in the process, she also protected Roxanne.

In a lowered voice that sent chills along Serena’s spine, Lord Hoxton said, “Don’t tell my aunt, but I ate earlier. I am used to country hours, and my stomach couldn’t wait until nine o’clock to dine.”

“I promise your secret is safe with me.” Her heart aflutter, she willed herself not to blush, no mean feat given she blushed easily and often.

A distraction was definitely in order to take her mind off how long his lashes were and how they framed his beautiful eyes.

“My father had a wren nest outside of his studio. My brother and I enjoyed watching the hatchlings every spring.”

“The wren is an interesting bird.” His eyes lit up with enthusiasm, overtaking their earlier flirtatious light.

“The females are rather plain in appearance, and it is the male of the species that dazzles her with his colorful neck and chest. Depending on the species, their necks and chests can range from blue to red.”

“Rather like the dandies at Lady Jersey’s party last week,” Roxanne said.

Serena startled. She’d been so tuned to Hoxton that she neglected to see that Blackstone and Roxanne had ended their conversation and were now listening.

Hoxton laughed at her cousin’s quip, the rich sound bringing a tilt to her own lips. “Indeed, rather like the colorful waistcoats of those fine feathered chaps,” he replied.

In good spirits, Roxanne grinned at Hoxton’s comment. She shone in social situations and usually carried on a lively flirtation with a variety of gentlemen, all vying for her hand in marriage. “I had no less than six gentlemen asking for a dance. My dance card was full all night.”

Serena inwardly winced. A lady didn’t boast about her conquests in front of a gentleman who was interested in asking for her hand.

Or did they? She had never been courted and doubted that she ever would be.

Flirting with fresh-faced men came easily to Roxanne.

Hoxton had a decade on her, and he wasn’t a silly fop like most of her suitors.

“I would imagine so.” Hoxton didn’t appear overly upset at the news. Of course, he had the upper hand over the other gentlemen. The viscount and countess approved of him, and whatever the countess wanted, she often got, even at the sake of her daughter’s happiness.

“Stiller tried to put his name in twice.” Roxanne giggled, her gaze moving down the table to the gentleman in question. Her affection for Stiller was a bone of contention between mother and daughter. “Of course, that would never be acceptable.”

“No, indeed. It would look most forward.” Serena leaned back and allowed the servant to remove her bowl of soup.

She cast a glance at Hoxton to see if he noticed, but his eyes were downcast. The squire had been enamored of Roxanne since the day they’d met.

If she had her way, Serena had no doubt Roxanne would marry him in a trice.

Serena’s gaze drifted back to Blackstone, another persistent suitor whose age eclipsed Hoxton’s.

Roxanne expressed no interest in the baron, nor did Lady Agatha wish for her daughter to settle for a mere baron.

Serena didn’t trust the man. Stiller’s status as a squire left him out of the running.

Which left Hoxton, a duke. Every marriage-minded mama had designs on him, yet Roxanne had the advantage.

His grandmother was her godmother, and wished for a match and soon.

Hoxton’s own father had passed away when he was only a boy.

His uncle, the Marquess of Brimley, had been the heir to the dukedom and had died a year before his grandfather’s death.

The last in the male line, Hoxton had inherited the title of duke, and would need a duchess worthy of the name. Her cousin was a natural fit.

Thus, it was imperative that she help Roxanne succeed in landing Hoxton. Yet a niggling voice in the back of her mind said it was wrong to push Roxanne in his direction until she had all the facts. It was time to have a heart-to-heart with Roxanne and find out her true feelings on the matter.