Serena let out a long, frustrated sigh. She was not intelligent enough to keep arguing with him. And to be honest, he had a point—although, it would be preferable if Mr King could extend enough grace to pardon the whole incident. After all, Father did not actually succeed in stealing the painting.
‘And here we are at another of Greenway’s buildings.’ He stopped and gestured with his arms at the walls before them, closing the topic of justice versus grace.
Still churning with frustration, Serena looked up at the structure before her and tried to put aside her annoyance. ‘Why, it is a castle.’
Mr King made a mirthless noise that might have been a laugh—and a scornful one at that. ‘Yes, a very elaborate design. However, it is a stable.’
Serena gaped at him, dumbfounded. ‘A stable? Why create a stable that resembles a castle?’
He made a face. ‘I imagine the government house they planned would have dwarfed it by comparison. But they never completed the rest. I believe Mr Greenway thought too much of himself and in time, he lost his position.’
She had to use great restraint to not compare one architect with the other standing before her. Could Mr King not see the similarity? Would he be in danger of losing his commission if he continued to act so superior?
‘If I were him, I would have stuck to my ideals, too. Perhaps I might have suffered the same fate.’
Had he read her mind?
‘But then, I possess an advantage over Francis Greenway.’
Serena cocked her head at him. ‘And what is that?’
His face split into a wide grin and he winked at her. ‘I have charm.’ In an unexpected movement, he grasped her by the hand and pulled her along the street. ‘Come, I feel like a dip in the ocean.’
How was she supposed to convince Mr King to go home? He did not appear weary in the slightest, but skipped down the lane ahead, while she stumbled behind, exhaustion dragging at her every step. One moment he had been the harsh master, the next a proud architect, and now an excited little boy. But then, she switched and changed almost as much—from fatigued, to exasperated, to intrigued and even entranced. His boundless enthusiasm was infectious.
Serena had no idea of the time, except from the way her eyelids drooped the moment she stopped moving. Like now, when she sat upon a rock whilst Mr King peeled off his shoes and socks, and frolicked in the shallows, mindless of the cold.
‘Come, Miss Bellingham. Come and join me.’ He ran along the shoreline, kicking up water and sending spray high into the air. He would be soaked through in moments if she didn’t discourage him.
‘No, no, Mr King. I am content to sit here for now. But we must leave soon, I think.’ She smothered another yawn.
Mr King was enjoying himself so much that guilt nagged at her for wanting him to stop. Serena panicked when it appeared he might strip to his underclothes and dive right into the water, but he must have had second thoughts as moments later he turned and ran back up the beach.
Breathless, he paused before her. ‘We should return to the horses, yes?’
Serena gave him a definite nod. If she’d known the welfare of his animals might draw him home, she would have used that excuse earlier. When she gazed at him in the moonlight, his eyes were bright with zeal. Water dripped from the ends of his dark hair and gleamed on his coat. He must be saturated, but seemed unperturbed. Mr King pulled on his shoes and walked her back to their waiting curricle.
If she assumed they had finished their tour—that they would return to Aleron—she was wrong again. No sooner were they seated and he’d taken up the reins than Mr King turned to her with wide eyes. ‘I’ll take you there.’
Fighting the sleep that dragged at her senses, Serena blinked at him. ‘Where?’
‘This home you love so much.’
‘Really, Mr King. It is the middle of the night. There is little point.’ If only he’d shown this interest earlier. She might have seen her dear sisters. Now she was beyond tired and they would no doubt be asleep.
‘We shan’t knock on the door.’
He didn’t seem capable of reason. She let out a sigh under her breath. ‘Well then, if you must. Do you remember the direction? Head East on King Street.’
Five minutes later, he drew up in front of Serena’s house. ‘This is it. This is where I live—lived.’ Being this close and yet not being able to see her beloved family made her stomach swirl with longing. How were they? No light emanated from the windows, not even from the rooms where her sisters would be snuggled in their beds. If only she could jump down and bang on the door, begging Father to rescue her. But what good would that serve? Mr King would drag her back or threaten to throw Papa into gaol. She kept her gaze averted from him. She refused to allow him to see her suffering again tonight. Instead she gazed with longing at the narrow path to the front door.
‘It is even tinier than I recall.’
‘But filled with love.’
Mr King was silent for a moment. ‘So, when there is love, other things don’t matter? For instance, comfort, warmth, decent food.’
Serena let out a harrumph. ‘When you are surrounded by love, you can endure many discomforts. Trust me, I know. I once enjoyed the luxuries you mentioned. Papa’s business declined after my mother passed away. Eventually we lost our fine home, nice furniture and warmer clothes. But, we still had each other, so we were—are—happy.’
Silence again. This time for so long that Serena wondered what occupied his thoughts. She turned to face him.
‘You have a point there, Miss Bellingham.’
Wonder of wonders. She offered him a small smile, tired
