Part 17 (1/2)
It accomplished both. Serena had been overwhelmed.
Further down the hall was a feast for the eyes, with landscape paintings in soft greens and blues, a thick carpet running its length. There was a library filled with alcoves of books, a sunny yellow breakfast room, and a gallery with family portraits and valuable works of art. The main drawing room was done in sapphire blue and gold. The ballroom boasted a huge domed ceiling. And in the back was a well-hidden kitchen.
Upstairs Drake had been eager to show her the master bedchamber and the deep four-poster bed with heavy velvet curtains. It was a dark, private world inside those walls of fabric and Drake had been more sure of himself there under that silk counterpane, had shown her things he seemed to have forgotten across the sea.
As smooth as water running over a rocky outcropping, that was Drake's manner now, and as powerful as a waterfall. Serena marveled at how well it fit him. She no longer wondered at his black moods and stony silences of the past-all was explained in the reclaiming of his ident.i.ty. This man, so sure, so confident, but now with a hard-won kindness and new appreciation for those things beneath his notice before . . . this was the man she had married. If she thought she loved the shadow that Drake had been, she was ensnared, spellbound by the real thing. Gorgeous
. . . powerful . . . confident . . . he was any woman's fantasy.
And he was in love with her.
She had no doubt of his love. He proved it a hundred times a day since they had moved into the brownstone bearing the ducal seal above the front door. Each day held new surprises, planned and executed with exacting care-all for her. Today she would be fitted for a new wardrobe, then take a curtsy cla.s.s, something she'd only been convinced was necessary by a detailed description of her presentation to the queen. A short rest time would be followed by an intimate dinner with Drake. That evening they were to attend an opera at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. Serena had never even seen a play, and tonight she was going to the opera and sitting in a private box with her husband, the duke.
It was all as in a dream.
SERENA DESCENDED THE stairs a little breathless, still trying to get used to the confining stays and tight bodice of her evening gown. She felt as though she'd been transformed into someone else while she was sleeping. She wasn't sure she liked it-or more accurately, was afraid she liked it too much. What kind of woman wore finery such as that in which she was draped? What kind of woman wore her hair elaborately coiled, with one long, provocative curl dangling over a shoulder.
She gripped her heavy skirt with one hand, lifting it above the stairs and grasped the railing tight with her other hand. So intent on traversing the stairs, she did not see Drake standing at the bottom, awaiting her. When she finally reached the landing, she looked up and gasped.
”Thou frightened me!” She laughed and then looked down, feeling suddenly shy. ”Thou hast been waiting long?”
Drake stood speechless. Admiration-and something else Serena could not quite identify, pride perhaps-showing from his eyes.
”Turn around,” his deep voice commanded softly. ”I would see all of you.”
She turned slowly, holding back a delighted laugh. Her gown was gold, the color of the amber flecks in her eyes, with a green-and-gold-striped underskirt and matching puffed sleeves. Emeralds hung from her ears, swaying provocatively and catching the candlelight from the wall scones. A choker wrapped around her neck and tiny tear-shaped jewels sparkled from her hair. It had taken the combined urgings of her personal maid and the housekeeper to convince her it was acceptable to wear such a low-cut gown in public. Elegant gloves covered her arms to the elbows with an emerald and gold bracelet on one wrist and a Chinese fan dangling from the other.
”I knew you would be beautiful dressed as my d.u.c.h.ess, but Serena, I am speechless. The men will adore you and the women will envy you.” He spoke the last in an underbreath, as though to himself. Then he held out her deep-black satin cloak with ermine fur trim and continued. ”There are a few important instructions I would give you before we enter the theatre.”
”Instructions?” She turned toward him.
”Nothing to fret about. I shall explain in the carriage.”
The night air was brisk, but Serena barely had time to feel it before she was ensconced in a well-sprung carriage complete with fur lap robes. Drake slipped in next to her, seeming too big, too alive to be confined in such an enclosed s.p.a.ce, even one so richly appointed as this.
As soon as the carriage swung into motion, Drake turned to her with a smile. ”Serena, dearest, what I am about to tell you may seem odd . . . wrong even, on some level, but let me explain marriages of the n.o.bility.”
Serena nodded, listening and vowing to follow his instruction to the minutest detail.
”I shall introduce you as Serena Weston, d.u.c.h.ess of Northumberland. When asked about your parentage you should reply that you were born in the colonies and lived in Pennsylvania. No need to mention that you are Quaker-that shall be discovered soon enough. Also, very, very important. Do not refer to me as Drake or your husband.” He smiled at her. ”Always refer to your husband as 'the duke,' such as, 'the duke and I met in Philadelphia,' or 'the duke is a most generous husband.'” He winked at her. ”And this is very important, Serena. We shall go to social functions together and sometimes even sit together, but it is not fas.h.i.+onable for husbands and wives to be affectionate or even overly friendly with one another in public.”
”But-”
Drake took hold of her hand and kissed the back of it. ”I know it seems dreadful, but we shall make up for it in private. Just treat me as . . . a brother, perhaps, when we are with others.”
”A brother? That is preposterous. However will I do it?”
Drake just laughed. ”It is not so hard. Watch the others, my dear; you will soon see what I mean. And if in doubt, then just remain silent and observe. For the first weeks, that will probably be wisest.”
Serena nodded. She had been tutored in the basics of comportment since arriving on their London doorstep, but she still had much to learn. Best to lean upon Drake in the treacherous social waters of the ton.
The theatre was magnificent, complete with columns and a domed ceiling with a tiered gla.s.s chandelier seemingly suspended in midair from a great height. Light sparkled from wall candelabras and sconces, showering glittering raindrops of light on the people and their elaborate costumes.
Drake ushered her into their private box, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkened theatre. They had an excellent view of the stage, curtains still drawn as the opera had yet to begin. Below them were crowds of people. Serena was hard pressed not to gape in astonishment as she spied a scantily clad girl selling oranges and being pawed at by overzealous men. The woman seemed not to mind the attention as she took their coins and giggled. Ribald comments flew back and forth between the men and women, whose bosoms all but fell from their low-cut gowns.
Drake leaned close to her ear. ”Serena, I would like to introduce you to someone.”
Pulling herself from the sights, she stood and turned. An older gentleman with kind eyes and a ruddy face stood at the entrance of their box. Advancing, he bowed, taking up Serena's hand.
”May I present Lord Albert Radcliff,” Drake said with a smile.
”My lord, it is so very nice to meet thee.” She saw his surprise at the ”thee” and wondered if she shouldn't have said it. Should she perhaps drop the Quaker speech-if she could, so ingrained in her it was. No, such silly thoughts! She wouldn't change her speech for Drake or anyone. She had changed enough as it was.
Some of her joy fled as shame filled her. Yes, she had changed. Had she already strayed so far from The Way? Was her soul in jeopardy?
Albert apparently read her stricken features and tried to smooth things over. ”How delightful. Drake, you did not tell me she was a Quaker.” He nodded, jowls shaking. ”Highest regard for the Quakers . . . yes . . . such solid people.”
”Thank thee, sir.” Serena decided she liked him. ”I hope thou art not the only one in London to feel so.”
Before Albert had a chance to respond, three men and a beautiful woman entered their box. Serena watched Drake's face for clues as to their ident.i.ty. She wished later she had not been watching quite so closely. Recognition flashed in his eyes as he saw the blond woman. It was not the kind of look one wanted to see in a husband's eyes for another woman. He recovered quickly, though, and made the introductions.
He pulled Serena close. ”May I have the honor of presenting the d.u.c.h.ess of Northumberland.”
The woman, Maria Louisa Chamberlain, bowed, as befitted Serena's station, yet disdain dripped from her as thick as the diamonds she was wearing. With her blond hair and flas.h.i.+ng blue eyes, she captivated the other men in the box with a skill Serena could only marvel at. When the woman addressed her, Serena was hard pressed not to stutter in response.
”Fresh from the colonies?”
Gathering inner courage, Serena offered a sweet smile and nodded. ”Yes, Philadelphia.”
The woman glanced at Drake and then back at her. Serena was shocked to see pity in her eyes. ”It must be difficult, being newly married and the duke having stayed-”
Drake interrupted her with practiced smoothness. ”I am doing my best to keep her entertained.”
Serena jumped at Drake's interruption. There was an almost threatening undertone to his statement that Serena didn't understand, but apparently the woman did, for she gave him a conciliatory look and a short ”I see.”
Serena knew there was much more being said than what she had heard. Attempting to draw the woman's attention back toward herself she asked, ”Thou hast been friends with the duke for a long time?”
The woman's eyebrows raised. ”I would hardly call us friends.” She glanced at Drake and smiled a slow smile. ”But I am on more . . . intimate terms with other members of the family.” Turning back to Serena, she tossed her head and smiled. ”You will find many among us jealous of the time your stay in London affords you with those others.”