Page 39

W hen Roland had arrived back in the courtyard and untied his horse, he was not entirely certain how Nelson would feel about being taken anywhere on horseback.

He should not have worried though. He put Nelson under his coat to secure him and the dog divided his time between wagging his tail, licking Thorpe’s face with his eerily long tongue, and growling at the doors to The Albany.

It was Spartacus who was perhaps more alarmed at this recent development.

His horse’s eyes were wide and he kept straining his neck to get a look behind him.

As much as he wished to hurry, Roland did not return to Grosvenor Square as fast as he had left it.

He kept his horse to a calm walk. The last thing he needed at the moment was for Nelson to become frightened and leap out of his arms, thereby setting off a chase through London to get him back again.

As well, the more time he had to compose himself the better.

Nothing felt more fraught to him than a horse or dog in danger of harm, and the relief of finding Nelson alive and safe had really almost tipped him over the edge.

The slow and regular hoofbeats seemed to quiet the dog and finally, Nelson gave himself a little shake and yawned. A dog’s shake and yawn was a sure sign that whatever had been troubling had been left behind.

Roland felt just the same. He could not say with any surety what Charles would do next, but he was not at all worried that he would attempt to meddle with his elder brother again in any near future.

The punch to his jaw had been a long time coming, it had been delivered, and Charles had seemed shocked to receive it.

He would just now be rubbing his jaw and attempting to explain to Michaels how it was that his elder brother had punched him in the face and taken his aunt’s dog.

As he turned on to the square, he could see the lights of the duke’s house blazing ahead of him.

The doors swung open and a footman leaned out, looking forlornly down the street.

The young man was on the verge of closing the doors again when he spotted Roland.

Nelson gave a little bark. The footman dropped his hands from the doorknobs, stared at him, and then raced indoors.

*

Serenity had been dabbing at her eyes with her napkin while Valor talked about all the people who could be hanged for stealing dogs when Charlie burst into the room. “Nelson! He’s outside! Lord Thorpe has got him!”

“Clever fellow,” the duke said, throwing his napkin down.

Serenity was out of her seat like a shot. She was out the doors in a trice. There he was! Nelson was home. Lord Thorpe had just dismounted his horse with Nelson in his arms. He had found Nelson.

She threw herself at her beloved dog, which coincidentally meant she had thrown herself at Lord Thorpe too. He caught her and Nelson wagged his tail between them.

“Where did you find him?” Serenity whispered.

“My brother had him,” Lord Thorpe answered.

“Lord Charles? I would not have thought…”

“Nor would I, until I did.”

“What ho, Thorpe,” the duke said jovially. “Returning as the conquering hero, eh?”

“I am sure not, Your Grace.”

“Dispense with the modesty,” the duke said. “My head pounds from the amount of weeping that has gone on in this house today—Nelson returned to us is better than any willow bark tonic my physician could give me.”

“I am sorry that one of my own family should have caused such distress, Your Grace. I have just retrieved Nelson from The Albany.”

“Why did Lord Charles do it, though?” Winsome asked.

“I expect he wished to raise himself in my estimation by returning a dog he stole in the first place,” the duke said, shaking his head. “Second sons, nobody ever knows what to do with them.”

“Is Lord Charles going to hang, Papa?” Valor asked with rather macabre delight.

“Never mind a hanging,” the duke said. “Let us all go inside.”

The duke ushered everyone into the hall, his daughters hovering round Nelson and petting him and saying all sorts of encouraging things to him. As Nelson was still in Lord Thorpe’s arms, both man and dog were surrounded by feminine assurances.

“Listen here, girls,” the duke said. “Nelson has just been through a very trying experience. We will not wish to overwhelm him with so many people. Two is all I think he’ll be up for just now.

Serenity, Thorpe, take Nelson into the drawing room and see that he’s made calm.

The rest of you, back into the dining room to eat that stale cake. ”

As Lord Stanford looked the littlest bit befuddled and wondering if he were to have to eat more stale cake, the duke said kindly, “Don’t worry, Stanford, I’ll open a bottle of the good claret to wash it down.”

Serenity was very grateful for her father taking everyone in hand. Though, a little surprised that she was sent to the drawing room alone with Lord Thorpe.

The duke hustled them both toward that room. At the doors, he slapped Lord Thorpe on the back and said, “Take aim and fire, that’s my advice.”

He pushed them both in and shut the doors behind him.

Lord Thorpe set Nelson down on the carpet. The dog seemed delighted to be in a setting he knew so well. He promptly hopped on the sofa that he was not at all supposed to be on, seeming to know that nobody would scold him over it on account of his recent adventure.

Lord Thorpe suddenly took Serenity’s hand. “Come with me,” he said.

The feel of her hand in his was thrilling as she did not wear her gloves, and of course she would follow him anywhere at all.

He led her to the windows overlooking the square and pulled back the curtains. “It was just there, on a snowy night, that I looked out my window at the glories of a snowfall. It was there that I first saw Lady Serenity Nicolet. It was breathtaking.”

Serenity felt the water make its reliable trip to her eyes. Such was the sentiment that there was not much of a chance of making it retreat.

“I think you know what I will say,” Lord Thorpe said. “But before I do, I have a confession to make.”

Serenity gripped his hand tighter. A confession? Surely not. Surely he could not have done anything that required a confession.

“I am not wholly the man you think you know.”

Serenity felt as if her heart had stopped.

She did not know what terrible secret Lord Thorpe harbored, but she was shocked that she had not sensed it.

Of everyone in her family, she was the most sensitive.

She could perceive things others could not.

How had he hidden something from her? He could not have. She was very sure of who he was.

The silence in the room felt like a heavy thing.

Finally, he said, “I’ll just come out with it.

I might seem like the emotionless and reserved lord, but the truth is, I have a rather sentimental temperament.

I regularly ride to the park to shout into the wind to relieve my feelings.

Not the sort of thing one might expect from a marquess. ”

Serenity could only be vastly relieved that no crime had been described. She found herself not at all opposed to hear of such passion. Shouting into the wind sounded rather romantic. It was poetic in some way. However, it did remind her that she had her own temperament to explain.

“You are shocked,” Lord Thorpe said.

“I am not,” Serenity said. “I am approving of the idea of shouting into the wind. It is just that I have to confess something myself. Shouting into the wind might be one thing, but I am quite another. I was planning to tell you all along. At the right time. The truth is, I weep over…most anything really. The sunrise, the sunset, anything beautiful, anything sad, anything that might turn out to be sad, sometimes just because a good cry is a good cry…”

“If you are not put off by my shouting into the wind, I am not put off by weeping,” Lord Thorpe said.

“That is not the worst of it, though,” Serenity whispered. “I have a box. A crypt. Of dead bees.”

As she had thought it would, this did seem to take Lord Thorpe aback. “Bees?”

Serenity nodded and poured out the story of killing a bee through its sting when she’d been very young. “So now, I go looking for them,” she said. “When I find one, I dry its poor little body in ash and put it in the crypt with the other dead bees.”

As she said it, it sounded even worse than when she’d only thought about it. In truth, it sounded as if she was not in her right mind. She sounded macabre and deranged.

“And that’s it? A box of dead bees?”

Serenity nodded. She was surprised when Lord Thorpe laughed. “We are a pair, then.”

He leaned down and kissed her. His lips were firm and soft and perfect and she felt as if the bones in her body were melting as he held her upright. It was magnificent. He was magnificent. Tears streamed down Serenity’s cheeks and he kissed them away.

Lord Thorpe pulled back. “This needs to be done properly. Lady Serenity Nicolet, will you consent to wedding me?”

“Yes, I will,” she whispered.

“I brought you something,” Lord Thorpe said, reaching into his coat pocket, “which is rather more prescient than I had imagined.”

He opened a small velvet box to reveal the most darling gold and pearl pin, fashioned as a bee. This was too hard on Serenity’s feelings and she wept with gusto as he pinned it on her bodice.

There was a sudden banging on the doors. “What are you doing in there? You should leave the doors open!”

It was Valor, ever working to stop a proposal.

“Come away, Val,” Serenity heard Winsome say.

Rather than do as she was told, Valor burst through the doors. “It’s so dark in here! What are you doing in here? Why are you making Serenity cry?”

“Look, Valor, Lord Thorpe has given me a pin—it’s a bee. You know how I love bees.”

“Oh no,” Valor muttered. “It’s happened again.”

“Has it?” the duke asked, coming in behind his youngest daughter.

“I have proposed and Lady Serenity has accepted,” Lord Thorpe said. “With your permission, Your Grace.”