Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Twice. Twice within the span of a few minutes this infuriating woman has managed to catch me off guard.
Damien took a step back, genuine shock flashing across his face before years of discipline buried it.
That alone should have concerned him. He studied her carefully.
Lady Seraphine Fairchild stood in the middle of his parlor, looking absurdly small against the dark furnishings and towering bookshelves, yet she met his gaze without flinching.
Most people looked away when he fixed them with that calculating stare. She did not.
Interesting. Bold.
She mistook his silence for hesitation and rushed to fill it. “I know it sounds unreasonable,” she said, clasping her hands tighter before her.
“Yes,” Damien replied dryly, folding his arms across his chest.
“But if you consider it logically…”
“That is rarely a promising beginning,” he interrupted, one dark eyebrow lifting.
Seraphine ignored him entirely. “I helped your family. You know I did.”
“You did,” he agreed, watching her closely.
“And now I require help.” Her words began tumbling out faster. Damien noticed the signs immediately. The slight twisting of her fingers. The careful way she held herself. The tension beneath her composure.
She is anxious. Frightened, most likely. And trying desperately not to show it.
“I thought it was the easiest solution,” she continued. “You owe me a favor, I need a husband, and you need a wife.”
“I need a wife?” Damien asked raising a skeptical brow.
“Yes.” She pointed at him before apparently realizing what she was doing. “You have no wife.”
“An astute observation,” he responded with sarcasm.
“You have no courtship either,” she continued. “And Thalia once told me that you have no intention of marrying for love.”
Damien closed his eyes briefly.
Of course my sister has discussed my views on marriage with her friends. Of course she has.
“So truly,” Seraphine finished, lowering her hand again, “I am helping both of us.”
He stared at her. The silence stretched. Finally, she winced. “I realize it sounds better in my head.”
“Thank God,” Damien muttered.
A soft groan escaped her, and to his annoyance he found it amusing. Inside him, however, a far more serious battle had begun.
A wife is permanent. My wife lives in this house. A wife would occupy my thoughts. Having a wife matters.
And Damien had vowed long ago never to permit another person to have that kind of power over him. Love made people into fools. Love clouded judgement. Love weakened people.
No.
He would not marry.
Lady Seraphine finally stopped speaking. The silence that followed felt heavier than before. Slowly she lifted her eyes to his. The room seemed to narrow around them. Damien found himself noticing details he should not have noticed.
The dark sweep of her lashes. The small dimple on her cheek. The rosy flush lingered beneath her skin from the chilly night air. Her lips.
God help me. Her lips. And those ridiculous brown eyes. Hopeful. Pleading. Trusting.
That was the true danger. Not her beauty. Not even her proposal. The trust. She was looking at him as though he might save her.
The thought unsettled him far more than desire ever could. For one reckless second, he imagined crossing the distance between them. Imagined pulling her into his arms. Imagined kissing her. The image arrived with alarming clarity.
Christ.
He was thirty years old. Master of one of the largest estates in England.
A man feared by half of London. And he was contemplating behaving like an idiot.
He could throw her over his shoulder and instead of taking her to Donmere House, take her upstairs to his own bedchamber.
The image was so absurd that it nearly made him smile. Her outrage would be magnificent.
Or perhaps I could simply kiss her.
That thought proved considerably less amusing. His gaze drifted to her mouth again. A mistake. An immediate mistake. Because suddenly he knew exactly what he wanted to do.
Dangerous. Extremely dangerous.
He would never allow himself to lose control in such a fashion. And even if he did, it would destroy her reputation. He was many things. Ruthless at business. Cold. Occasionally unpleasant. But not that.
Lady Seraphine lowered her gaze and murmured something under her breath.
Damien frowned and took a step towards her. “What was that?” he asked.
She looked mortified. “Nothing,” she said quickly.
“I am afraid I'm flattered,” he said quietly, forcing the words out before he could reconsider, “but the answer is no.”
The hope vanished from her face instantly. Damien hated the sight.
Before he could change his mind, he turned sharply towards the doorway. “Mr. James,” he called.
The butler appeared almost immediately. Years of service had made the man unnervingly efficient.
“Your Grace?” Mr. James asked.
“Please have the valet escort Lady Seraphine home,” Damien ordered without looking at her.
Damien had not merely refused her.
No, that would have been easier to bear.
He had not even given a proper reason.
The man had listened to my desperate proposal, stared at me with those unnerving green eyes, and then shooed me away like a stray cat that had wandered into his study. I risked my reputation and scandal by going to him in the middle of the night and still left empty-handed.
The thoughts were heavy on her mind as she entered the breakfast room. Her cousin William sat at the table enthusiastically consuming enough food to sustain a regiment. Eggs, ham, toast, kidneys, sausages, every available plate appeared to be within reach.
Seraphine paused in the doorway and, for one glorious moment, considered turning around and retreating upstairs.
What if he knows? What if the servants told Lord Donmere I left last night?
Then his lordship noticed her. “Lady Seraphine!” he exclaimed cheerfully through a mouthful of food, waving a buttered piece of toast in greeting. “Good morning!”
Her smile felt painful as she stepped further into the room.
Well, I suppose he would not be smiling if he knew what I had done last night, so that is good.
“Good morning, my lord,” she replied, inclining her head before taking the seat opposite him.
The Earl immediately reached for another piece of toast and began buttering it with alarming enthusiasm.
The sight filled her with an entirely unreasonable irritation.
Only a few days prior she had thought him harmless.
Kind, even. Now she knew better. He was exactly what she had feared, not openly cruel, not violent, not vicious, merely a man capable of destroying another person's future while remaining cheerful about it.
In some ways, that is worse.
The Earl swallowed his mouthful and flashed a bright smile on her. “Now, I know it must be very hard on you to watch your father's estate be passed onto me, but that is the way of it, and nothing can be done,” he said, speaking as though he were offering comfort.
Seraphine tightened her grip on her teacup. There it was again. As though she required reminding. As though she woke each morning and forgot that everything she had known now belonged to him.
“Of course, my lord,” she replied sweetly, lifting the cup to her lips to hide her expression.
William nodded approvingly as he reached for a pastry. “Excellent attitude, it does you credit, cousin,” he declared.
Seraphine imagined throwing her teacup directly at his head. Instead, she smiled.
Years of surviving her father had taught her self-control.
What she wanted to say was that William did not deserve any of it.
He had not endured her father's temper, nor spent years walking upon eggshells.
He had not lived beneath the shadow of a man who ruled through fear.
She had. And now the reward for surviving all that hardship was eviction.
Life is remarkably unfair.
The Earl selected a pastry and pointed it vaguely in her direction.
“You still need to find a husband within the month,” he reminded her cheerfully. The words landed like a hammer.
Seraphine lifted her teacup and took a careful sip before replying. “If I fail, there is always Westborough Abbey.”
“Precisely!” William exclaimed with alarming enthusiasm. He sounded pleased. “My sister adjusted wonderfully there,” he continued as he bit into the toast. “You shall have company.”
“How comforting,” Seraphine said, managing a polite smile.
“It is,” William assured her with a satisfied nod.
It was not. Not remotely.
Seraphine forced her smile to remain in place. “Thank you for giving me an entire month before removing me from my family home.”
William beamed. “You are most welcome.”
Good heavens. The man genuinely believes he is generous.
“The days are ticking away,” he continued. “You must fill your schedule with social engagements immediately. Dinners. Balls. Musical evenings. House parties. Anything involving unmarried gentlemen.”
He pointed his fork at her as though delivering a profound piece of wisdom. “I cannot wait to see what sort of husband you secure,” he said before helping himself to another bite of breakfast.
Seraphine stared at him across the table, her expression growing increasingly bleak.
William completely misinterpreted it. “Do not worry,” he assured her with an encouraging smile. “You should have excellent prospects.”
Wonderful.
Before she could formulate a response that would not get her banished immediately, the butler entered the room.
“The Duchess of Amberhall.”
Relief flooded Seraphine so suddenly she nearly sighed aloud. Her cousin’s expression changed at once. He stood up from his chair, smoothed his waistcoat, and arranged his features into what he likely believed was a charming smile. Then he leaned towards Seraphine and lowered his voice.
“Do not dare tell her anything,” he warned, the genial mask slipping just long enough for the threat beneath it to become unmistakable.
A moment later the smile returned as though it had never left.
Interesting. Remarkably interesting that he cares what Thalia thinks to protect his reputation.
The doors opened and Thalia swept into the room. She was elegant as always, dressed in pale blue silk and carrying herself with the confidence of a woman who feared absolutely nothing.
Marriage suited her. So did being unimaginably wealthy.
“Thalia,” Seraphine exclaimed, rising from her chair with genuine delight as her friend entered the room.
Thalia crossed the room at once and wrapped her in a warm embrace before leaning back to inspect her face.
“You look dreadful,” she informed her bluntly.
Seraphine laughed despite herself and smoothed a hand over her skirts. “Good morning to you as well,” she replied dryly.
Only then did Thalia turn her attention towards William. “Lord Donmere, I presume?” she said with polite composure, inclining her head slightly.
William sprang toward her so quickly he nearly overturned his chair.
“Your Grace. What an unexpected pleasure,” he said, bowing with exaggerated enthusiasm.
The smile he offered could have illuminated the entire county.
Seraphine nearly rolled her eyes. “May I present my cousin, the new Earl of Donmere,” she said, gesturing towards him.
“A pleasure,” Thalia replied smoothly, though her expression remained unreadable.
William seized upon the opening immediately. “Please convey my regards to the Duke,” he said eagerly, clasping his hands behind his back. “I have heard wonderful things about Amberhall.”
“I am sure you have,” Thalia replied, her tone pleasant but a tad crisp.
Undeterred, William smiled wider. “We must become better acquainted.”
Thalia tilted her head slightly as she regarded him. “Must we?” she asked.
William blinked. Seraphine hid her smile. Thalia could be terrifying when she chose. The Duchess turned away from him and focused her attention on Seraphine.
“I have lady matters to discuss with my friend if you will excuse us,” she said, moving towards the table.
William's smile faltered. “Oh,” he said.
“Privately,” Thalia added, taking a seat beside Seraphine without so much as glancing back at him.
The single word left little room for argument. To his credit, William recovered quickly.
“Of course! Enjoy yourselves,” he said merrily as he adjusted his waistcoat and prepared to leave. He departed moments later, though not before giving Seraphine one final look.
The instant the door closed, Thalia's attention returned to her friend.
“Now,” she said anxiously, taking the seat beside her, “is everything all right?”
I cannot tell her my own cousin is forcing me to marry in one month or be evicted to a convent. Not yet.
Seraphine summoned her most convincing smile. “The new Earl has been nothing but… good-mannered.”
Thalia visibly relaxed, sinking back into her chair as she pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. “Oh, thank heavens,” she said with a sigh.
Yet even as she spoke, her eyes narrowed slightly while she gave Seraphine another careful inspection. She was clearly not entirely convinced.
Before she could pursue the matter further, however, excitement suddenly brightened her expression. She leaned forward in her seat and clasped her hands together. “I have wonderful news,” she announced.
“Do you?” Seraphine asked, lifting an eyebrow at her friend's sudden enthusiasm.
“A house party,” Thalia declared, her smile widening.
Seraphine blinked at her. “A house party?” she repeated.
“At Amberhall,” Thalia said proudly, sitting a little straighter.
The excitement in her voice was unmistakable.
“I have decided that Society is exhausting,” she continued with a dramatic roll of her eyes.
“That does sound like you,” Seraphine replied, unable to suppress a smile.
“So Caspian and I are gathering a few friends instead. You must come,” Thalia said gleefully.
Seraphine immediately became suspicious. She folded her arms and regarded her friend carefully. “A few friends?” she asked.
“Yes,” Thalia replied with an innocent expression that fooled absolutely no one.
“How many is a few?” Seraphine pressed.
Thalia hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “Forty or fifty,” she admitted.
Seraphine laughed outright and shook her head. “That is not a few people,” she said.
Forty or fifty guests was actually a respectable number. Certainly enough to begin searching for a husband. More importantly, it would remove her from William's company. That benefit alone was almost enough to secure her acceptance.
Looking up at her friend, she smiled genuinely. “I would love to come,” she said warmly.
Thalia immediately clapped her hands together in delight. “Excellent,” she declared with a grin. “I knew you would.”
As Thalia launched into enthusiastic details, Seraphine found herself smiling more easily than she had all morning.
Perhaps the situation is not entirely hopeless after all.