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C harles could see very well that Thorpe had an interest in Lady Serenity. He did not suppose it was surprising—the lady was very comely and she was a duke’s daughter. As his brother did have some kind of interest, it amused him to walk off with her for the first.

As they waited for their turn at the steps, he said, “Lady Serenity, have you known my brother long?” He would like to get a feel for where, if anywhere, things might be going.

“Oh no, we were just formally introduced tonight. He, well, he did see me out his window last night. It was snowing and glorious, so I took my dog out for a walk.”

“Ah, the three-legged dog?”

Lady Serenity nodded. “Nelson,” she said.

Charles laughed. “Is he named after Lord Nelson?”

“Indeed, he is. My sisters and I felt it both honored his missing leg and distinguished him.”

The whole idea of taking in a three-legged cur one found loitering outside of an inn was absurd.

Naming it after the greatest naval man in the history of the world was worse.

Particularly for a duke’s daughter. She really should have some sort of rarified breed she could be proud of.

However, she seemed to be quite enthusiastic over this Nelson.

He suspected she was of the sentimental variety of lady and he was determined to test out the theory.

“I must admit,” he said, “I was shocked to hear that Nelson had been surviving on scraps before you rescued him. That innkeeper ought to be ashamed of his neglect of the poor thing.”

“Yes, just so! Actually, I do believe he was the littlest bit shamed when he saw how we all were so taken with Nelson. It was as if he saw the little dog who’d been living at his doors with new eyes.”

New eyes, indeed. Charles deemed himself correct in his assessment regarding the lady’s sentimentality. “Quite right he do so,” he said. “Let us hope it causes that innkeeper to do better in future.”

Lady Serenity nodded vigorously. It seemed he was hitting the right notes with her.

“Well, it’s all come right now, has it not?” Charles asked. “Nelson finds himself in more luxurious circumstances than he could have dreamed of.”

“My father says we spoil him, but he spoils him more than anybody. He always pretends to accidently drop bits of meat at table and Nelson is right there waiting for them. Do you have a dog, Lord Charles?” he asked.

Of course, he did not have a dog. His father maintained a pack for hunting, but he could hardly be expected to drag a dog hither and thither. That idea would not suit Lady Serenity though.

“I fear it will be some time before I have a dog again. I was too wrecked about losing my dear Nero to old age last year.”

He worked to look suitably sad, though no such dog had ever existed.

“Oh, I am sorry. It is heartbreaking,” Lady Serenity said.

If he was not mistaken, her eyes were teary. She was set to weep over a dog that had never existed. If there was anything that might fix her temperament in his mind, this was it.

Disturbingly, her temperament was very like Thorpe’s own—weeping over the plight of animals every time one turned round. She might be admiring of such nonsense.

But that was only if she knew it. Thorpe kept his real nature very under wraps these days. Perhaps there was something to be done with that.

“Do you also live on Grosvenor Square with your brother?” Lady Serenity asked. “I assume it is a family house?”

“It is a family house,” Charles said, “But at the present time, I am at The Albany.” Charles paused.

This was the moment he’d really have to paint a picture that was not at all the truth of the situation, but very much to his benefit.

“Nero and I spent many good years in that house and made a lot of memories. I think you can imagine how that might pain me. Because of my loss.”

“Goodness yes, I certainly can. I could not bear it. You are quite right not to put yourself through it.”

He had guessed right. Good luck to the seemingly reserved marquess in besting him. “I thank you for the sentiment. It is the sort of thing my brother cannot understand. He finds it too sentimental, I suppose.”

This seemed to give the lady pause.

“Oh, I see, yes, the Duchess of Devonshire mentioned he was very reserved.”

Did she, now? Excellent. He need only reinforce that idea.

If he had understood the situation sufficiently, Lady Serenity was a rather soft touch.

She would not prefer a frowning and serious marquess.

The marquess, however, did prefer her. Else, why would he make it a point to approach the duchess to get on the lady’s card?

There was some mischief to be made here, and he was happy to make it.

*

Serenity worked very hard to keep herself on an even keel.

So many things were affecting her! When the marquess had approached, she’d felt her heart in her throat.

He was positively glorious up close. He was tall and broad-shouldered and impeccably dressed.

She noted his hair, which had seemed a darker shade as he sat at his window, was a charming dusky blond, the type that would lighten and darken with the seasons.

His eyes, which she had presumed were brown, were in fact a very deep blue.

Perhaps his most attractive aspect, though, was that his bone structure was so distinct and strong-looking.

There did not seem to be an ounce of padding on him and it gave him a rarified and sophisticated presence.

The idea that a man such as that had sought her out specially had near overwhelmed her feelings.

Then, dancing with his brother, she’d come very close to weeping. Poor Nero! She could not bear to hear of any animal dying of old age. Why did there need to be such a thing? Poor Lord Charles was heartbroken over losing his beloved dog.

After that, she’d gone on to dance with several other gentlemen and it was speedily becoming apparent to her that she would have to guard her feelings very carefully indeed. One never knew when a gentleman would say something to set them off.

Lord Kilgard had mentioned a new horse he’d bought at Tattersall’s and she’d inquired into the old horse.

He’d just shrugged and said he did not know—he’d handed it over to the stablemaster.

Anything might have happened to that poor horse, and Lord Kilgard did not know the first thing about it.

Her eyes had stung as she imagined the worst.

Lord Metley had described sailing on his rather large lake. The description of setting off at sunrise and the breeze catching the sails as the light came over the hills was devastatingly beautiful, and she’d almost wept over that.

Lord Littleton remarked that he’d not been sure he would make it inside the ballroom before the doors closed.

He and his brother had been all the day long resettling their old cook, as he’d begun to go a little funny in the head.

He could not be trusted around lit fires anymore and so they’d hired several caretakers to watch over him.

It was so kindly done that once more she felt her eyes water.

She began to wonder if her family avoided certain topics that might set her off, as this night it seemed every time she turned round there was something to send them shooting high or falling low.

As always, her eyes did not seem to care which direction her feelings were going, as they liked to water whenever they were going somewhere.

Now she was to dance with the marquess and she was a bundle of feelings.

He was so handsome that her heart beat faster at the sight of him.

But then, his brother had described him as so different from himself.

Lord Charles was genially sentimental, but claimed his brother would not understand his feelings over his dog?

First the Duchess of Devonshire and then Lord Charles had hinted that Lord Thorpe was rather…austere. It was hard to believe, considering the way he’d smiled out the window. He had not looked unsentimental or reserved then.

Who was he really? She could not be certain, but even so, she knew she liked him.

She could not help but to like him. It had been an instantaneous thing.

How funny that it would be—Patience had done just the same.

She’d laid eyes on Lord Stanford and had been set on him.

At the time, Serenity had really wondered at the wisdom of it. Here she was doing just the same.

She was determined to keep a tight control over herself while in the presence of Lord Thorpe, as it did not seem as if he were the sort of gentleman who would appreciate a weeping lady.

He had come to collect her and they had danced a lively Scotch reel.

Between their turns, he’d asked her about the Dales.

He said he’d always had an interest in traveling there but had not yet had the opportunity.

Serenity described the sunrises over the moors, and then noticed she was getting a bit carried away with it and regained control over herself.

The dance had come to an end and Lord Thorpe held his arm out. She laid her hand gently upon it. It was thrilling to be led into the dining room on his arm.

They were seated at the far end of the table, though just as they sat down it seemed Lord Thorpe looked unhappy about their placement.

She followed his eyes and found Lord Charles had hurriedly sat down across from them.

It was a very wide and square table, so she did not suppose there would be any conversation across it.

She could not work out why the two brothers stared at one another as they did.

Lord Thorpe wrenched his gaze from Lord Charles and turned to her. Tea was brought, along with dry cake, as Lord Thorpe warned her against the sour lemonade and barely buttered, very stale bread.

Serenity said, “My three sisters who came before me all warned me off the lemonade. Felicity said it was so sour it could curl your hair.”