Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Seraphine entered the breakfast room and joined her sister Rosaline.
Rosaline's eyes narrowed as she set down her teacup. “Something is troubling you,” she said, leaning forward in her chair.
“It is not,” Seraphine replied, reaching for toast and avoiding her sister's gaze.
“It is,” Rosaline insisted, folding her arms atop the table.
“It isn't.” Seraphine spread jam across her bread with perhaps more force than necessary.
Rosaline tilted her head. “You are using your stubborn voice.”
“I do not have a stubborn voice,” Seraphine protested, lifting her chin.
“You absolutely do.” Rosaline pointed her butter knife at her accusingly.
Seraphine sighed and set down her own knife. “You are impossible.”
“What happened at the ball?” Rosaline asked, studying her carefully over the rim of her teacup.
“Nothing happened,” Seraphine replied quickly, lifting her cup to her lips.
Rosaline lowered her cup. “Then why do you look as though you've been sentenced to hard labor?”
“It was simply exhausting,” Seraphine said, setting her teacup down with deliberate care. “There were many dances.”
“And?” Rosaline prompted, holding up a second finger.
“There were people,” Seraphine replied dryly, gesturing vaguely around the breakfast room.
Rosaline gasped theatrically and pressed her hand to her chest. “The horror.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Seraphine's mouth. “I knew you would understand.”
“I am a very compassionate sister,” Rosaline declared, straightening proudly in her chair.
Seraphine was relieved that her sister was dropping matter.
I cannot tell her about the kiss. It was nothing more than a drunken moment.
She tried to convince herself to stop thinking about Damien and all that had happened the night before. Rosaline was married to Damien’s brother, and she did not want to burden Rosaline with keeping a secret from her husband.
“Good morning, ladies.” Lord Everend approached and bowed.
“My lord,” Seraphine replied with a graceful incline of her head.
Rosaline smiled sweetly. “Good morning, Lord Everend.”
Lord Everend offered another polite nod before turning his attention towards Seraphine. “I hope you are enjoying your stay at Amberhall,” Lord Everend said as he clasped his hands behind his back.
“Very much,” Seraphine replied, setting aside her napkin. “The hosts have been wonderfully generous.”
“They have indeed,” Lord Everend agreed with a smile.
He hesitated briefly before clearing his throat. “I was wondering, Lady Seraphine...”
“Yes?” Seraphine asked, lifting her brows expectantly.
“If you have no other plans after luncheon, perhaps you might allow me the pleasure of accompanying you on a turn through the gardens?” he asked, shifting slightly on his feet.
At that exact moment, Seraphine saw Damien enter the breakfast room.
Her pulse stumbled. She immediately looked back at Lord Everend and smiled brightly.
“I would love to take a turn in the gardens, Lord Everend,” she said rather louder than necessary. “I shall look forward to it.”
Lord Everend's face brightened. “Excellent. I shall eagerly await the afternoon.”
“I shall do the same,” Seraphine replied with perfect composure.
After he departed, Rosaline slowly turned towards her.
“Oh,” Rosaline said, drawing out the word suspiciously.
Seraphine immediately groaned. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” Rosaline replied, wiggling her brows.
“Must you do that?” Seraphine asked, pointing accusingly at her sister's face.
“Absolutely,” Rosaline said without a shred of remorse.
“It is alarming.”
“It is romantic.”
“It is not,” Seraphine replied, tearing a piece from her roll.
Rosaline laughed. “He likes you.”
“We only danced two dances,” Seraphine argued, gesturing with the piece of bread.
“That is how courtship begins,” Rosaline replied with maddening confidence.
Seraphine dropped her head briefly into one hand. “You are unbearable.”
“He seems lovely,” Rosaline continued, completely ignoring her complaint.
“He is,” Seraphine admitted, straightening again.
“And handsome enough,” Rosaline added.
“Reasonably,” Seraphine shrugged.
“And wealthy enough,” Rosaline said going down the list.
“Indeed,” Seraphine agreed.
Rosaline clasped her hands together. “Wonderful. You have my full blessing.”
“Your blessing was not requested,” Seraphine replied, narrowing her eyes.
“It is being provided anyway,” Rosaline said with a regal wave of her hand.
The smile faded from Seraphine's face as her gaze drifted towards the far end of the table.
“He is merely a possibility,” she said quietly, twisting her napkin between her fingers.
Rosaline's expression softened. “A possibility?”
“Nothing more,” Seraphine replied, keeping her eyes fixed on Damien across the room.
“You sound unconvinced,” Rosaline observed gently.
Seraphine hesitated before answering. “It is too early to tell.”
Even as she said the words, her eyes found Damien once more.
And that, more than anything, irritated her.
“And here’s your mother,” Laurent said as he approached holding little two-year-old Annie.
“Indeed, here I am,” Rosaline smiled.
“I will hold her.” Seraphine reached out her hands and accepted the handover of her niece Annie. She held her on her lap while Rosaline gave the child a piece of toast.
Seraphine loved seeing her sister be so matronly, and she wondered herself…
Will I ever be a happy mother too?
The morning passed at a much slower pace than the excitement of the soirée.
Amberhall Manor seemed filled with groaning guests who had remained awake far too late the previous evening.
Some nursed headaches. Others sought refuge in quiet corners with tea and books.
Even the usually energetic atmosphere of the house had softened into something more subdued.
Seraphine found herself grateful for it.
The quieter the day became, the easier it should have been to avoid one particular Duke.
Unfortunately, avoiding Damien requires considerably more effort than avoiding ordinary people.
Every time she entered a room, she found herself checking whether he was there.
If she heard a deep male voice, her stomach immediately betrayed her by assuming it belonged to him.
The realization irritated her immensely.
She had spent the entire morning reminding herself that his kiss had changed nothing.
He still did not wish to marry her. He still intended to remain stubborn and impossible.
Therefore, she ought to stop thinking about him entirely. So she sought refuge in the library.
It was one of her favorite rooms at Amberhall, lined from floor to ceiling with books bound in rich leather.
Sunlight filtered through tall windows, illuminating polished shelves and comfortable chairs arranged beside the hearth.
The room carried the familiar scent of paper and wood polish.
It was peaceful. Or at least it would have been peaceful if Thalia's young child had not been racing through it like a tiny hurricane.
“Jeremy, darling, books are not stepping stones,” Thalia called out. Her tone carried the long-suffering patience of a mother who had repeated the same instruction many times before.
Seraphine laughed.
“I know,” Thalia replied dryly as she continued searching the shelves. “I would have laughed as well if I were not responsible for his upbringing.”
Jeremy promptly darted towards another section of the room.
Seraphine shook her head fondly. “He has your talent for creating chaos.”
“That is a very rude thing to say to a duchess,” Thalia teased while pulling a book free from the shelf. “It is fortunate we are friends.”
“It is fortunate indeed,” Seraphine smiled.
The Duchess settled beside Seraphine in one of the chairs, smoothing her skirts as she glanced after her daughter. A softness entered her features that never failed to catch Seraphine's attention.
“May I ask you something?” she said after a moment.
Thalia immediately looked interested, lowering the book she had been holding onto her lap. “Of course.”
Seraphine hesitated. The question had seemed simple enough a moment ago, yet now she found herself strangely reluctant to voice it aloud. Her fingers twisted together in her lap before she finally said, “Are you truly happy?”
Thalia blinked in surprise and leaned back slightly in her chair. “That was not what I expected.”
“I am serious,” Seraphine replied, meeting her gaze.
The Duchess studied her carefully, some of her amusement fading as she sensed the sincerity behind the question. “About being married?”
Seraphine nodded. “And being a mother,” she added quietly, “And all the rest of it.”
For a moment, Thalia said nothing. Her gaze drifted towards the window, and Seraphine could almost see her reflecting upon the life she had built. The silence stretched just long enough to make Seraphine wonder whether she regretted asking.
Then a small smile appeared. “I never thought I would be,” Thalia admitted. A note of fond amusement entered her voice. “There was a time when the very idea sounded dreadful.”
Seraphine laughed softly at the memory. “I remember.”
“You should,” Thalia replied, arching a brow. “You agreed with me.” Thalia's smile widened, and she shook her head at her friend with affectionate disbelief.
“I was terrified when I married Caspian. Absolutely terrified. Yet somehow, he became my favorite person.” Her gaze drifted towards the doorway where Jeremy had vanished. “And then came Jeremy.”
A look of such fierce affection crossed her face that Seraphine's chest tightened.
“I am exceptionally happy,” Thalia finished quietly.
The words settled heavily within her.
Exceptionally happy. Not merely content. Not merely comfortable. Genuinely happy.
Seraphine stared down at her clasped hands as a terrible realization slowly unfolded inside her.
She had spent days convincing herself that marriage was simply a solution.
Find a suitable husband. Escape William. Avoid the abbey. Problem solved.
Yet suddenly she saw the cost.
If she married the wrong man simply because time was running out, she would be surrendering the possibility of what Thalia had found. She would be trading away the chance of real happiness for safety.
The thought stole her breath. Lord Cunningham. Lord Shelding. Lord Everend. They were all good men. Suitable men. Men any sensible young lady would be pleased to consider. Yet none of them made her feel anything.
Her pulse quickened as an uncomfortable question forced its way into her mind.
What if I spend the rest of my life wondering whether I had settled too quickly? What if I chose safety now and regretted it forever?
The walls of the library suddenly felt too close, the air strangely oppressive.
“I need some air,” she blurted, rising so abruptly that Thalia startled.
“Seraphine?”
But she was already moving.
She hurried from the room before her friend could ask further questions. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she crossed the corridor and pushed through the nearest doors leading outside. Cool air immediately met her flushed skin. She stepped onto a garden path and drew a deep breath.
Then another, forcing herself to draw the cool air deep into her lungs until the frantic pounding of her heart began to settle.
The panic eased slightly, though not nearly enough to restore her composure.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, willing herself to regain control before she made a complete fool of herself.
“Are you all right?” a deep voice asked from behind her. The sound nearly sent her heart into her throat.
Of course it’s him.
She turned. Damien stood only a few feet away; his dark brows furrowed with concern as he studied her face. The sight somehow made everything worse.
“I am quite alright,” she said quickly, forcing a smile she did not feel as she smoothed an unnecessary crease from her skirts. “I merely needed a little air.”
His gaze lingered on her face, unconvinced.
Her heart fluttered. She inhaled his masculine scent. Even now in a time of panic, his mere presence made her knees feel weak. He stepped closer. She looked up at him, looming over her.
“I…I was merely, that is,” she stumbled over her words. Her chest heaved up and down the closer he stepped.
“You do not look…” He took another small step forward, his expression tightening.
Whatever he intended to say was interrupted by another voice.
“Oh, there you are, Lady Seraphine.”
Relief swept through her. Lord Everend emerged around the corner of the path carrying his hat beneath one arm. His expression brightened immediately upon seeing her.
“I have come to collect you for our walk,” he said, offering her a pleasant smile.
Seraphine seized the opportunity like a drowning woman reaching for a lifeline.
“Of course,” she replied warmly, turning towards him at once. “I was just seeking you out as well for our walk.”
Lord Everend smiled. “I am pleased to hear it,” he said as he extended his arm.
Without hesitation, she accepted it. Only then did he notice Damien.
“Your Grace,” he said with a polite bow of his head.
“Everend,” Damien replied, inclining his head only slightly.
The single word emerged cool and unreadable. Seraphine refused to look at Damien.
Absolutely refuse.
Instead, she turned her attention towards Lord Everend as they began strolling along the path together. He immediately launched into a pleasant discussion regarding the gardens, and she did her best to listen.
Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of her. After several moments, she glanced back over her shoulder and immediately wished she had not.
Damien had not moved from his place upon the path. He still stood exactly where they had left him, watching them disappear deeper into the gardens. The expression upon his face made her stumble slightly, forcing Lord Everend to steady her arm with a concerned glance.
Why is he looking at us like that? And why, despite everything I have told myself, does a small part of me feel absurdly pleased by his attention?