Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“Well, this looks scandalous.” The familiar voice caused both of them to turn.
Rosaline stood a few yards away with one hand resting upon her hip and amusement sparkling in her eyes. Beside her, a nursemaid held little Annie, who appeared fascinated by a nearby flowerbed.
Seraphine was shocked. “Rosaline?”
“What?” her sister asked innocently as she approached. “I merely stumbled upon my unmarried sister standing alone in a dark garden with my unmarried brother-in-law.”
Lady Rosaline was married to Damien’s brother, Lord Laurent Harrington.
She looked slowly from Seraphine to Damien, her amusement growing with every passing second.
Heat rushed into Seraphine's cheeks. “There is no scandal,” she insisted, folding her arms as though that alone might make the statement true.
“Not yet,” Rosaline replied.
“There will not be,” Seraphine said, trying, and failing, to sound dignified.
Rosaline tilted her head as though giving the matter sincere consideration. “That depends entirely on how quickly I leave,” she informed her.
To Seraphine's horror, the Duke appeared mildly entertained by the exchange. The faint amusement lurking in his eyes made her want to kick him.
The traitor.
“You are enjoying this,” she accused, directing a glare at her sister.
“Immensely,” Rosaline admitted without the slightest shame, her grin widening.
At that precise moment, Annie let out a delighted squeal at something only she could see. Rosaline glanced down at her and smiled fondly before returning her attention to the two adults standing before her.
“Honestly,” she said, lowering her voice dramatically as though sharing a terrible secret, “if anyone else discovered you lurking in dark corners together, Society would be planning the wedding breakfast before morning.”
“We were not lurking,” Seraphine protested at once, throwing her hands into the air.
Rosaline gave her a look of profound disbelief. “You were standing suspiciously close together,” she pointed out.
“We were having a conversation,” Seraphine replied.
Rosaline's expression grew increasingly skeptical. “With a duke?” she asked.
“Yes,” Seraphine answered through gritted teeth.
“In private?” Rosaline continued.
“Yes,” Seraphine repeated.
“In a garden?”
“Yes.”
Rosaline looked positively delighted by this point. “This grows worse with every answer.”
Beside them, the Duke folded his arms across his chest and watched the sisters with the resigned expression of a man who had realized resistance was futile.
“I assure you, Lady Rosaline, nothing improper occurred.”
“Oh, Your Grace,” Rosaline replied with a grin, “that is exactly what people say before something improper occurs.”
For a brief moment, Seraphine thought the Duke might actually laugh. The amusement lingering in his eyes suggested he was close to doing so. Instead, he merely shook his head, as though both sisters were beyond saving.
Rosaline immediately seized the opportunity, slipping her arm through Seraphine's and tugging her firmly toward the house.
“Come along before the gossips discover you,” she said with exaggerated urgency, casting a meaningful glance between Seraphine and Damien.
Seraphine rolled her eyes but allowed herself to be led away all the same. “I had no idea you were coming to Amberhall. You should have written.”
As they made their way back toward the lantern-lit terrace, where music and laughter drifted through the warm evening air, she found herself glancing over her shoulder.
The Duke had not moved from his position beside the pillar.
One shoulder rested against the stone, his posture deceptively relaxed, yet his gaze remained fixed upon her retreating figure.
The sight sent another unexpected flutter through her stomach.
Annoyed with herself, she immediately attempted to dismiss it.
It is ridiculous. Entirely ridiculous.
Yet the sensation lingered stubbornly, refusing to be ignored no matter how firmly she scolded herself. By the time she reached the terrace, she was still thinking about him which only irritated her further. Fortunately, the rest of the evening passed surprisingly well.
Once returned to the party, Seraphine found herself swept into conversations with ladies she had not seen in months. There were card games, music, laughter, and enough amusing stories to distract her from thoughts of convents, Earls, and impossible Dukes.
At one point, Lady Branson became so animated whilst recounting a disastrous dinner party involving an intoxicated Viscount and an unfortunate ornamental fountain that Seraphine laughed until tears gathered in her eyes.
She pressed a hand to her mouth as she tried to compose herself, shaking her head when Lady Branson insisted the story had been greatly improved by the Viscount's insistence that he had meant to fall into the water.
It felt good to laugh. Good to forget.
I feel safer knowing he is somewhere nearby. Why is that?
The realization annoyed her immensely. She did not require protection. She had survived years beneath her father's roof.
And yet the memory of Lord Pemberley's hand tightening around her arm returned with uncomfortable clarity. She remembered the sudden fear that had curled through her stomach, the isolation of that dark path, and the ugly certainty in his voice when he had assumed she had no one to defend her.
Then she remembered the Duke appearing behind him, remembered the cold fury in his eyes and the way Lord Pemberley had barely had time to turn before finding himself sprawled against a hedge.
The memory of the punch surfaced so vividly that a small smile tugged unexpectedly at her lips.
It was ridiculous, really. She ought not to take satisfaction in violence.
Yet there had been something deeply gratifying about watching an arrogant man discover that his actions carried consequences.
By the time she retired for the evening, her thoughts remained no less tangled.
Fortunately, Rosaline's room offered a welcome distraction.
The sisters settled before the fire, enjoying the quiet comfort of one another's company while little Annie occupied herself by attempting to consume one of her own socks with great determination.
Rosaline caught sight of the offence in progress and immediately leaned forward to confiscate the sock.
“Absolutely not,” she informed her daughter firmly as she plucked it from her grasp.
Annie stared at her with an expression of profound betrayal.
Seraphine laughed at once. “She resembles you,” she observed, nodding toward the child's indignant face.
Rosaline pressed her hand dramatically to her chest. “How dare you,” she replied, though amusement danced in her eyes.
“She does,” Seraphine insisted, pointing at Annie as though presenting evidence before a jury.
“Then heaven help her,” Rosaline declared, shaking her head mournfully.
The sisters dissolved into laughter, and Annie, apparently deciding she was being mocked, waved her arms in protest.
Being with her sister felt comforting.
Familiar. Safe.
Eventually Rosaline set Annie upon her lap and glanced toward her sister.
“So,” she asked casually, smoothing a curl from the child's forehead, “how is our dear cousin enjoying his new title?”
The question made Seraphine's smile falter.
William. The idiot.
The reminder settled heavily upon her chest.
Immediately she thought of deadlines, ultimatums, and the looming threat of Westborough Abbey. She thought of the pressure that followed her everywhere and the increasingly desperate search for a husband. Yet she had no intention of sharing any of that with Rosaline.
Her sister had a husband she adored. A healthy child, another on the way.
A happy life. Seraphine could not bear the thought of burdening her sister with worries she could do nothing to solve.
Rosaline had fought hard for her happiness.
She deserved to enjoy it without learning that Seraphine's future currently hung by a thread.
“He seems… quite settled,” Seraphine replied carefully, smoothing an imaginary crease from her skirts as she avoided her sister's gaze.
Rosaline adjusted Annie on her lap and studied her with narrowed eyes. “Does she?” she asked, her tone deceptively casual.
“Yes,” Seraphine answered at once, forcing herself to meet her sister's gaze.
“Is he treating you well?” Rosaline pressed, gently patting Annie's back as the child attempted to grab a lock of her hair.
Seraphine managed a smile that felt far more convincing than it truly was. “He has been perfectly civil.”
It was not technically a lie. William was many unpleasant things. Manipulative. Calculating. Self-serving. But uncivil? No. He hid his cruelty behind politeness far too effectively for that.
Rosaline continued watching her, her expression thoughtful. She had always been entirely too perceptive.
“He is not causing trouble?” she asked quietly.
“No,” Seraphine replied, perhaps a little too quickly.
Rosaline's eyes narrowed further. “Are you certain?”
“Rosaline,” Seraphine said with a sigh, leaning back in her chair.
“What?” Rosaline asked innocently, though the look on her face suggested she knew exactly what she was doing.
“You are staring at me.”
“Because you are being suspicious,” Rosaline replied.
“I am not.” Despite herself, Seraphine laughed. The sound eased some of the tension that had begun gathering in her chest. Determined to steer the conversation elsewhere, she waved a dismissive hand through the air.
“The truth is…” Seraphine began.
No, I cannot tell her, not yet. She is with child and I do not want to put worry on her.
“The truth is, having our cousin take over our family home has simply reminded me that I need to marry eventually,” she said. “I should like a home of my own and not have to think of such things as cousins taking over my home.”
Rosaline nodded immediately. “That is hardly shocking,” she replied, smiling faintly.
“Indeed. Somewhere nobody can tell me what to do. However if I could have it all, I would marry for love, not simply for a home,” Seraphine added, lifting her chin with exaggerated dignity.
A laugh escaped Rosaline. “That is a less reasonable ambition.”
Seraphine grinned despite herself, and Rosaline smiled back, though a trace of suspicion still lingered in her eyes.
Fortunately, Annie chose that precise moment to launch her recaptured sock across the room.
The sisters burst into laughter. The sock became the center of attention. And just like that, the conversation moved on.
For the remainder of the evening, William and his ultimatum were forgotten.
At least temporarily. Which suited Seraphine perfectly.