Chapter One
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Serena still felt out of sorts the next afternoon, when the carriages rolled up to Torver House to disgorge the Christmas guests. A fortnight of family and friends and fun lay ahead. Or so she told herself as she trudged downstairs to join her parents on the wide front stairs, where they waited to welcome the visitors
. The house was set on a rise above the train of vehicles making their way along the winding drive.
The day was fine and cold, with a pale, wintry sun in a pale, wintry sky. Beside her, her ebullient, gray-haired father was almost incandescent with anticipation. There was nothing Sir George loved better than this yearly gathering of Talbot connections. Her mother, a more contained personality than her father, looked equally pleased in her serene way.
First to bound up the stairs toward Serena was her brother Frederick, tall, dark and exuberant like their father. Followed by Serena’s older sisters Belinda and Mary with their families, and a horde of aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends.
By the time everyone shifted into the great hall for spiced wine and gingerbread, the air resounded with laughter and squeals of excitement. Gangs of children chased each other through the cavernous room hung with boughs of Christmas greenery, and various dogs added to the mayhem.
Serena found refuge from the cheerful chaos beside the hearth, where the Yule log blazed. Most years, she loved this explosion of life in a house that had become sadly quiet since her sisters married and her brother took up residence in London. But now, a headache nagged at her, and she couldn’t help wishing that the children weren’t quite so ecstatic to see their cousins.
“Serena, are you all right?” Mary asked, coming up beside her.
Serena forced a smile. “Fine.”
Searching gray eyes, so like her own, leveled on her. “You don’t seem yourself.”
She didn’t feel like herself, but even to this, her favorite sister, she couldn’t confess the details of last night’s unsettling dream. Anyway, what was there to confess?
A footman opened the main doors to some latecomers, distracting Mary. To Serena’s relief. “Ah, here are Paul and Giles,” her sister said with transparent pleasure.
Two vigorous young men strode into the crowded hall and stopped beneath the kissing bough suspended near the door. Torver House always set up a mistletoe corner, although the decoration was less extravagant than the one in St. Lawrence’s.
In her ears if not in reality, the cacophony receded, and for one breathless moment, Serena observed the new arrivals as if she’d never seen them before. Which was mad, when she’d known Paul since she was a baby, and Giles since eight-year-old Frederick had brought the orphaned marquess home the Christmas after he started at school.
Sir Paul Garside was a sight to set any girl’s heart fluttering. The handsomest man she’d ever seen. Tall. Golden. Perfectly turned out in a dark-blue coat that matched his eyes. At ease with his world.
Unwillingly, almost afraid, she let her attention stray to Paul’s companion. Dark. Quieter than Paul. Compelling in his self-possession.
Serena had always disbelieved the gossip that painted Giles as the gentleman the London ladies pursued. But even across the vast hall, something hot and dangerous quivered into life inside her when those unreadable obsidian eyes settled on her.
“Serena?” Mary said sharply, shattering her odd reaction. “Are you listening to me?”
Serena’s cheeks heated as she met her sister’s curious eyes. “Sorry, Mary. I was miles away.”
“No doubt dreaming of a June wedding to Paul Garside,” her sister snapped.
Serena’s blush deepened, and she checked quickly to see if anyone had overheard. “Shh.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s paying any attention. And what if they are? Your penchant for Paul is no secret.”
“Oh, how mortifying,” Serena said in horror.
“Well, in the family at least. It’s possible Paul doesn’t know. Men are always so clueless about things like that.”
“I…I like Paul, I always have.” Why on earth did that statement convey an edge of desperation?
“Of course you do. He’ll make you a wonderful husband. If you mean to catch him, you must know you’ve got the family’s approval.”
Serena’s annoyance persisted, although she wasn’t sure why. “I had no idea my hopes were subject to such speculation.”
Mary’s laugh was dismissive. “You’re mutton-headed if you don’t. A couple of years ago, Mamma made us all promise not to mention it, because you’re such a contrary creature, you might go off the idea.”
Serena’s attention returned to Paul. Her father and mother were giving him a rapturous welcome. Odd how difficult it was to resist looking toward his acerbic friend standing beside him, also welcomed, also loved. “When I was ten years old, I made up my mind to marry him.”