Page 41 of Courting the Duke (Reimagined Regency #2)
Soft and sweet, the heady fragrance of the garden’s lush greenery hung in the warm air.
Serena meandered down the path from the house that led to the sundial, praying to escape from the weight of her thoughts.
Roses bloomed, and the soft rustle of the breeze was a balm to her troubled soul.
She swatted a fly away, wishing she could as easily chase away the thoughts swirling in her mind.
She sat on the bench inside the Greek-style folly, the shade of the domed roof offering a relief from the setting sun.
Her fingers idly twisted the lace of her gloves as she watched a delicate black and yellow butterfly drift past. Staring into the sunset, she could almost convince herself that her life hadn’t been turned upside down.
Her thoughts lingered on the accusation Lady Diana had thrown at her and Hoxton’s doubtful expression.
Serena shifted her feet, her toe tapping in agitation at the very notion that they thought she had trapped him into marriage.
While she was outside in the warmth, a chill continued to hold her in a frozen state.
She had never imagined that anyone—except perhaps Aunt Agatha—would accuse her of something so dastardly.
Serena curled her fingers into fists and winced.
She’d played the pianoforte for most of the morning and well into the afternoon.
Once the music had played itself out of her head, she had ventured into the garden.
The quiet was broken by the chattering of birds, each sound reminding her of Hoxton.
The empty hole in her chest deepened as she thought about how her marriage had begun—how, despite the difficulties, she had believed that they were bonding.
“Serena?” Lady Imogene said.
She looked up to find Lady Imogene standing on the steps of the folly, her eyes soft with concern.
The other woman had been nothing but kind to Serena since they’d met.
Where others had looked at her with disdain over her place in life or her scar, or both, Imogene had seen her only for who she was, never for the cleft that marred her lip, or the insecurities that clung to her like a bad omen.
“Good afternoon, or should I say evening?” Serena said, her voice faltering slightly. She hastily wiped a tear from her cheek, embarrassed that Imogene noticed.
Imogene came toward her, her pale blue dress rustling softly as she climbed the steps.
Graceful with an air of kindness, Imogene had a way of putting Serena at ease.
The older woman sat beside her on the bench, her presence an instant comfort.
“I heard snippets of what happened through the servants’ network,” Imogene said, laying her hand on Serena’s sleeve. “Would you care to talk about it?
Serena’s gaze fell to her lap. “What is there to say?” she managed to utter out of her tight throat. She stared out at the garden’s serenity and allowed the tranquil scene to soothe her troubles.
Chest tight, she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Humiliation overrode every adverse emotion she experienced. How could she voice the doubts that were now poisoning her marriage?
“She…she…she thinks I tricked him into marriage.”
Imogene’s gaze softened further, and she placed a hand on Serena’s arm, a silent gesture of comfort. “Lady Diana said that?” she asked, her tone filled with both surprise and sympathy.
Serena nodded, the tears falling more readily. “Yes. She believes I trapped him. That I—” She broke off, swallowing the bitterness that rose like bile in her throat. “That I deceived him.”
“Oh, you poor dear.” Imogene’s expression darkened for a moment, a flash of anger crossing her face before it was replaced with compassion. “I would not worry too much about what Lady Diana says, it is what Hoxton thinks that matters,” she said softly.
“He believes her.” Serena’s voice trailed off, and she struggled to keep her composure.
“The very idea that Hoxton believes the lies Aunt spread over my word is what hurts the most. And now…now I feel as though Hoxton’s family believes the same thing, that I am nothing but a clever woman hiding behind a mask of deceit. ”
“He told you that?”
“He didn’t have to. His actions spoke louder than any words he might utter.”
“While I can’t say anything for certain, I know he loves you, and if he believed those rumors, he would have never married you.” Imogene looked at her with such understanding that Serena felt as though her deepest fears were being spoken aloud.
“Hoxton doesn’t love me.” Serena’s voice cracked as the pain and uncertainty screamed inside her head. While he admitted to desiring her, he had never voiced any stronger emotion.
“Although I can’t see into my nephew’s mind, I think he cares more for you than you know.” Imogene’s eyes softened with sadness, and she moved a little closer, wrapping an arm around Serena’s shoulders. “You have been more than kind to the girls and me, and I know he appreciates that in you.”
“All the kindness in the world will not erase his sad opinion of me.” Serena turned her gaze downward, inhaling to stave off the rising tide of emotion. Imogene’s assurances rang hollow to her ears. If he loved her, would he doubt her?
“I understand you are hurt, and I don’t want to make excuses for him or for Lady Diana. She isn’t usually that quick to listen to gossip.” Her expression wavered, and she smoothed her palm down her skirt.
“She wanted to believe the worst of me because of Aunt, I am certain of it,” Serena said in a clipped voice. “I have flaws, but I am not the woman his grandmother thinks I am.”
“No, you are not.” Imogene squeezed her shoulder gently. “Until Lady Diana said something, did he say or indicate he felt the same?”
“No, things between us were going well, and I, well, I thought…” She had thought that over time, he might come to love her in the same way she loved him.
“The question is, do you trust him enough to reveal your heart to him?”
Serena looked up at Imogene and shook her head. “If you asked me this morning, I would have said yes. Now I am not sure I can trust him again.”
“That is something only you can answer.” Imogene’s smile rallied.
“I think this is about more than trust. You are not defined by your fears or by others’ opinions of you.
You are defined by what you choose to believe about yourself.
Hoxton married you in good faith, and if you open your heart to him, truly open it, you will see that he has already chosen you, flaws and all. ”
Serena’s breath caught in her throat as she drank in Imogene’s words.
Could it truly be a matter of trusting Hoxton and allowing him to see the truth of her heart?
She had been fearful of his rejection, of never being enough, and she had allowed doubt to overshadow everything.
In her heart, she nearly forgot that love was not about perfection.
“What if I can’t forgive him for even thinking, for one second, that I would be such an unscrupulous woman? What then?”
Imogene looked at Serena with knowing eyes. “Forgiveness is not for him but for you. If you don’t try to rise above this, and instead, carry the weight of resentment, it will keep you from the peace you deserve. Do not let it harden your heart.”
Serena absorbed Imogene’s words, but the pain was still too raw.
She had spent too many years hiding behind her insecurities and the barrier of her cleft lip.
The constant rejection she had felt from perfect strangers who judged her by her appearance and her flaws.
Brandon and Roxanne had loved her unconditionally, and she had prayed that Hoxton might do the same.
Yet he doubted her character. If she wanted to build something real with him, she must find a way to cope with her feelings.
“Thank you, Imogene, for listening. I will do my best to take your advice, but I can’t guarantee I will succeed,” Serena said quietly, her voice thick with emotion.
“I am glad I could be here for you. During my marriage to Herbert, I learned that love is not without its difficulties, but it is stronger than anything that may come between you.”
Serena nodded slowly, a fragile sense of resolve beginning to form. The figure of a man approached, and her heart skipped a beat before she reminded herself that Hoxton had gone to London at her insistence. Was he even now speaking to Blackstone?
“Beg pardon, my ladies,” Mulligan said, his eyes skimming over Lady Imogene’s face before he nodded to Serena.
“Mr. Mulligan, I thought you went to London,” Lady Imogene said, her cheeks a rosy hue.
The way she lowered her gaze was telling.
Serena looked between the two of them, a tension forming in the air that had nothing to do with her own troubles.
Imogene was quite lovely, and Mulligan cut a fine figure in his brown coat and buff breeches, his Hessians polished to a dull shine.
“We were waylaid on the way there by a farmer who found an injured owl.” Mulligan settled his hands on his hips, a habit Serena had witnessed him doing. He cast a sideways glance at her. “Hoxton went on to London to fetch the young ladies Brimley, and I returned to take care of the bird.”
Serena’s smile faltered at the sound of Hoxton’s name, and she was both relieved and irate that he had left for London. “Another owl, that is two in two days.”
“It happens more often than I would like. John is seeing to the bird. I simply wished to inform you of my return,” Mulligan said with a bow. “I bid you good night, Your Grace. Lady Imogene.”
“Good night.” Imogene stood as he strode down the path toward the sanctuary, her color still high.
Biting her lip, she waited for Serena to follow her lead.
“I think we should eat before the hour grows too late. Daisy and the twins will be home early tomorrow, and the entire house will be chaos once more.”
A nervous laugh escaped Serena. Dinner would mean she’d be in Lady Diana’s company once more. The anger washed over her hard-earned peace. “I would imagine so.”
“Lady Diana has retired to her room for the night.” Imogene looped her arm through Serena’s in solidarity.
“I would be lying if I didn’t say I was relieved.
” She fell into step beside her. Despite her anger with him, she missed Hoxton with every fiber of her being.
She wanted to lean on him, but she needed to stand on her own two feet.
Years of taking a step back would be hard to overcome, but perseverance was imperative for her success.
Her marriage might be frail, but her will would remain strong.