A shy laugh escaped from his mouth. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m surprised Uncle Ed hasn’t pointed it out to you.’
‘It is a little out of character for him.’ Serena giggled. ‘I wonder why. We haven’t spoken often though. Perhaps he never found the opportunity.’
Mr Simon pressed his mouth into a brief smile. ‘What do you say to a gallery tour when we return to the house?’
‘I should like that very much.’ She gave him a genuine smile of gratitude.
They strode in silence for a time.
‘He says you come here on occasion.’
Serena shot him a sideways glance. Was Mr King keeping track of her every move? Was he that suspicious of her?
Not wanting to express her uncertainties to Mr Xavier, she lifted her shoulders and dropped them again. ‘As often as I can. But the cleaning keeps me rather busy.’
‘I enjoy the sea air myself.’ Mr Xavier glanced at her. ‘If you need an escort, I am happy to be of service. I’m usually with the horses if you ever need to find me.’
Serena looked over at him again and a bashful expression spread on his face. He was uncomfortable making this offer, but why? Was it just his shyness, or was he acting under orders? But then, by the slight tinge to his neck, perhaps there was more to it. Was he attracted to her? Serena’s eyes widened at the thought. Mr Xavier was handsome and provided pleasant company. Maybe she should spend time with him. If something developed ...
She shouldn’t think so far ahead. The last time she let her imagination run in that direction, she had been severely disappointed. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear again. ‘I do like the solitude here, but I confess I prefer to have company. Thank you.’
They arrived at the rock which guarded her boots and Mr Xavier politely turned his back while she slipped her stockings on. Would he think her barefootedness vulgar? She hoped not. It would be a shame to have to change her ways.
‘There. All done.’ She straightened and brushed the sand from her hands.
Mr Xavier offered her his elbow. ‘I think your method of strolling on the beach is better. I might try it myself next time.’
‘Next time it might be too cold.’ Serena wrapped her fingers around his arm.
‘True. Then next time, perhaps we should ride the horses here.’
‘I’m sure that would be enjoyable, except I’ve never ridden a horse. Is it hard?’
There was his gentle laugh again. ‘Not really, but it does take time and practise. I guess we’ll stick to walking in our boots for now.’
‘Boots it is.’ Serena joined him laughing. It was lovely to have found at least one friend at Aleron. If only Mr King trusted her as he said he might, her days would be satisfactory. At least, for now.
As they strolled back to the house, the ever-present questions rolled across Serena’s mind.
‘Do you mind if I ask you something, Mr Xavier?’
‘Not at all.’
‘You and your brother—you do not seem…. I mean to say …You are obviously well educated. Why is it that you are here working as servants?’
Mr Xavier kept his eyes on the ground.
‘Yes, that education came from none other than Uncle Ed. Mother insisted we would learn best from him.’
‘But neither of you are out and about in society like other young men. If Mr King attended Cambridge, then—and correct me if I am wrong—you all come from a wealthy family at least, if not titled. It seems odd that you would live so modestly. Pardon if I am being impertinent.’
There was that bashful smile again.
‘No. You are very astute Miss Bellingham. My grandfather on my mother’s side was a knight.’
‘A knight?’
‘Yes, but he died when I was quite young and soon after that we all came to Australia.’
‘And now you all live rather quiet lives. It seems a shame.’
Mr Xavier shrugged.
‘It’s all right. This is the way Mother likes it. She…she worries about us overmuch.’
Overmuch seemed like an understatement. Why would a mother keep her sons in an inferior way to that which they were born? The circumstances at Aleron House became stranger and stranger.
9
As soon as they entered the house, Mr Xavier headed straight for the hall table that displayed the miniature paintings of roses. Serena could not wait another minute to learn the truth. Picking up the small frame containing the pink rose, she carried it to the window where she could study the detail. Sure enough, there in the corner in tiny black lettering was the signature, E King.
‘You see?’ Mr Xavier smirked.
‘Yes, indeed.’ No wonder the man took offence when Papa tried to steal it. Hadn’t he said it was one of the better ones? Maybe even his favourite work. Serena now understood why it was so valuable to him. She worried her lip with her teeth as she replaced the miniature in pride of place on the table and bent to examine the others. Yes, each one of them bore his signature.
So, Mr King had an infatuation with painting roses.
‘What else has he painted?’
Serena explored the long hallways with Mr Xavier, stopping to take in every piece of art. A few hangings were the work of other artists, but several had Mr King’s signature. Soon enough, she recognised his style before she saw his name, and Mr Xavier laughed at her enthusiasm. Scenery, people, animals and several buildings—all painted with an exceptional hand. There were even a few large pieces depicting rose bushes, or roses in a vase. This artist certainly had an eye for the majestic.
Mr Xavier had said his uncle was painting at present, even now as they wandered the house admiring his gift.
His gift.
Surely this was a most gifted man. Not just intelligent, but also artistic and creative. Serena saw why he weighed
