Playing To Win

“No, we carried them in, Marie and I. They were lying on every doorstep in Brussels. Not the most hard-hearted person could have shut the door on them. I must say, I never thought much of the ladies of the ton before that day, but I did not see one of them, not the most delicate beauty, refuse to help with the wounded. I was touched with admiration for them, and for the soldiers.”

“I had no idea,” said her father, appalled. “How long did this go on?”

“A few weeks, I think. We were so busy, I don’t perfectly remember.”

“I should have brought you home with me.”

“No, I’m glad I stayed.”

Tony gave her a heart-wrenching smile. It was not as though she had done anything for his brother. But he liked her for staying, all the same.

Lady Jane cleared her throat. Sera tore her eyes away from Tony and said, “Ladies, shall we go in to the drawing room?”

Lady Jane invited Lady Amanda upstairs to freshen up, and in the same sentence recommended Tony to go in and see Sera’s sketches of America. The attempt to throw them together was so blatant as to be embarrassing, but they both pretended not to notice, and Sera led Tony into the drawing room. She picked up a candelabra and carried it to one wall. “Here they are.”

“What?”

“The watercolors. You’d better at least be able to say you looked at them, but don’t feel compelled to compliment them. It was my father’s vanity that had them framed, not mine.”

“But they are remarkably good!” said Tony, in genuine surprise.

“Far better than you expected, in other words,” she taunted.

He laughed. “If you read minds, then you know why I am here.”

“By now I expect the kitchen maids know why you are here. My father wants to be rid of me so he can marry Lady Jane.”

“My father also wants to be rid of me,” he said darkly.

“Then we have something in common after all.”

“Would you dislike it excessively to be married to me?”

“Why, I think I could like it quite well, but I have a confession to make first.”

“You?”

“It’s only that I’m hopelessly bookish,” she said sadly, putting down the candles and seating herself on a sofa. “I have even been known, in the dark of night, to sit writing poetry.”

“Is that all? I suppose I had better tell you the worst about myself.” He sat on the edge of the sofa.

“There’s no need.”

“You mean you have heard all about me already.”

“Just what Lady Jane has told me, but that’s all in the past now. I would wish you to promise not to get shot again.”

“I shall do my best to avoid it in future,” he said shyly, “Do you wish me to delay my proposal, or—?”

“We would probably have to endure another one of these dinners.”

“In that case, will you marry me?” Tony asked with a rush.

“Yes.”

Tony had a little difficulty getting the ring out of his waistcoat pocket. Sera was impressed that he had thought to carry one with him. “This was Grandmother’s,” he said to her hand as he slid it on her finger.

Sera looked at the brilliant stone, and when she raised her head to say “It’s lovely,” he kissed her. She knew then she had not made a mistake. He was the one. She had been kissed by other men, but it had always felt as though they were taking something from her. With Tony she felt that he was giving her something.

“Shall we tell them?” he asked.

“Oh no, I think we should torture them as long as possible. Look what they have put you through.”

When the others came into the room, Tony was chuckling over Sera’s stories of her travels, and they only thought that the two of them were getting on well together. It wasn’t until they were leaving that she flashed the ring at them.

“You little devils! Why didn’t you tell us?” Barclay demanded.

Chapter Two

The wedding was a simple, private affair. There were only Lord and Lady Cairnbrooke attending, with Sarah’s father and Lady Jane. Tony’s cousin Winwood was shaken loose from a country party to come down and stand for him. Sera found him charming, if somewhat foolish.

The entire affair was arranged so fast that when they actually came to say their vows there was a sense of unreality about it for Sera. She had to keep reminding herself that they were not just lines in a play. They were real vows, promises she would have to keep a lifetime. She concentrated on each one, and meant what she said.

“So much nicer than pistols, Tony,” Winwood said of the knife they used to cut the wedding cake. Sera thought it was an unkind reminder, but Tony only smiled at him.

* * *

“Perhaps we should have gone to Europe, as your father suggested,” Tony said unexpectedly as Lord Cairnbrooke’s traveling carriage took them southward.

“But I like Brighton.”

He was a little conscious that Sera had seen so much more of the world than he, and would have been glad to explore Europe with her for the first time, but she was right that it was still too torn up for travel. He would be a fool to lead her into danger or discomfort...when he felt so little able to take care of her. Besides, the Brighton road was hard enough to tolerate in a well-sprung carriage. He turned a little sideways, to get his right shoulder off the seat, and the better to converse with his bride.

He was agreeably surprised by her in many ways. She was witty, for one thing, and sometimes had an uncanny knowledge of what he was thinking. He had seen more beautiful women, but none so distinctive. Once you got to know those hazel eyes, that generous mouth, that ever-so-slightly aquiline nose, they could never be forgotten. And her glorious brown hair, burnished with auburn—he was looking forward to seeing it loose about her shoulders. Compared to Lady Vonne, Sera was not above average, but all in all, he was looking forward to being married to her.

That Vonne thing was a bad business. How he had been led into it, he could not remember. Only that after Charlie’s death he had not cared very much for anything, and Madeleine had listened and sympathized. He was just running over in his mind the course her sympathies had taken when he became conscious of Sera watching him with a look of concern.

He flushed, thinking for a moment she really could read his thoughts, then smiled nervously. “Sorry I am such a morose traveling companion.”

“Will people think badly of you to marry while you are still in mourning for your brother?” She had been about to ask if his shoulder hurt him, but sensed it would have been the wrong thing to say.

“Not since it was a private wedding. Besides, if no one married who was not in mourning for someone, there would be precious few weddings in all of England. Still, it can’t be very pleasant for you. You will miss out on so much.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted a lot of show. A wedding should be a private thing, not a play given before strangers.”

“What an odd thing to say.” Tony flashed a smile that was all the more endearing for its spontaneity.

“Yes, when you consider that, generally speaking, I like the theater very much. That is the place for grand gestures and impassioned speeches. Real life is something quite different.”