And then there was the matter of those sudden and strange impulses, which the family hinted at, but which she had experienced as well. Did Mr King really have trouble with self-control or was it simply ill-mannered behaviour? She had never encountered anyone like him before.
Serena was not certain of anything at Aleron. The seeming changeable nature of Mr King—at first irritable and rude and then open and cordial, even at times charming. The protectiveness of his family. It sat at odds with her experience of a normal household. But then, normal in a house this size might be quite different.
Oh, but she missed her family near the docks. She never imagined she would pine for the smell of brine and fish—or the noise of city living, with its constant stream of carts grating in the laneways, the ‘hoy’ of warning shouted here and there. And the people. On top of missing her father and sisters, she yearned for her morning visits to the baker, or the butcher, if they had extra coins that week. There was much colour in her old routine that sadly lacked here at Aleron house. And at home, her family needed her. She served only one purpose at Aleron.
For several weeks now it had been breakfast, then washing—wringing, hanging, starching, folding, ironing—and dusting and polishing all day with only a few breaks to eat and drink. At the end of the day, she fell exhausted into bed. After supper, Serena was free to do as she wished, but too often she was so depleted, she could only read a page or two of Lord Byron before falling asleep.
The only change to this routine came with the occasional visit from Mr King, or a walk on the beach with Mr Xavier. The two men caused such opposing emotions in her. Whenever Mr King intercepted her, her heart fluttered and the familiar attraction drew her, but then he always left her baffled. When she strolled on the sand with Mr Xavier, she was at peace, but apart from his well-looking face, he aroused little more in her than friendly affection.
With another sigh, Serena straightened from the pillar and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The late afternoon breeze became chillier by the day. Footsteps scuffed on the stone flagging to her right, causing her to turn to greet whomever came her way.
‘Mr King. What brings you out here?’
He approached in a manner that Serena could only describe as jogging, or was it skipping? Perhaps a cross between the two.
‘I might ask you the same, Miss Bellingham.’ Mr King drew her attention to the fading light with a sweep of his hand. ‘It is getting cold out.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind the cold so much, and I wanted fresh air before supper.’ She fell into step beside him as they walked back toward the entrance. ‘I’m used to a draughty house and thin garments, you know.’
He appeared to study her shawl for a moment with an intense gaze. Did he think her lack of the finer things made her lesser somehow? Even her austere circumstances were only a recent happening. Once, she’d been wealthy, with many prospects for the future.
Serena swallowed those dashed dreams of the past and reached out to run a hand over one of the smooth columns. ‘I must confess I was out here admiring your architecture.’ She released a wistful sigh for effect.
Mr King stopped walking and turned to stare at her as if reading her sincerity. ‘You have an interest in structure?’
Serena let out a self-conscious laugh and continued toward the door. ‘Well, I’ve always loved beautiful homes. Truth be told, I dreamt of living in such a place. Aleron is so majestic, I can’t help it.’
‘It pleases me to hear you say that.’ Within a few strides he was at her side again, grinning broadly.
Another boost to his ego, Serena supposed, but suppressed the sigh of frustration that rose in her. And yet, he surprised her as he leaned closer to speak.
‘Meet me in the library after supper. I wish to show you something.’
Serena’s heart rate leapt at his nearness, and at his suggestion of a secret meeting. Before she could ask him what he wanted to show her, he had hurried off toward his rooms. What treasure did the library hold that he was eager to show her?
Supper was tedious, despite the delicacies that enriched her plate. Serena found it hard to concentrate on the conversations taking place around her. She nodded absently here and there when one of the family addressed her directly. When Mr Xavier asked her if aught was the matter, she pleaded weariness from the day’s work—which was not entirely untrue. It warmed her heart that he cared enough to ask. If only Mr King showed her such compassion, then she might be more certain of his approval.
Finally, after making her excuses to Mrs Jones, Serena made her way to the library. More than a little excited, she checked over her shoulder several times to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Was she committing an indiscretion? Guilt had a way of creeping in—unwelcome. Mr King hadn’t suggested anything untoward, after all. Glancing behind her once more, she turned the knob and pushed open the library door.
There he sat, lounging on a sofa, an open book on his lap. He did not appear to be waiting for an arranged appointment at all, let alone a secret one.
A little breathless, she greeted him. ‘Good evening, Mr King.’
His eyes shot up and he snapped the book closed. ‘Ah, Miss Bellingham.’ He rose to his feet and approached her.
‘What is it you wanted to show me?’ Serena scanned the dimly lit room for anything out of the ordinary.
Mr King’s gaze ran over her entire being. ‘Do you have warmer clothes to wear?’
‘No, but I’m all right. It’s not excessively cold in here.’
‘Hmm. We shall have to remedy that. Wait here. I’ll return momentarily.’ With those words, he hurried from
