Chapter 12 #2
Carefully, she selected her words. “My cousin inherited my father's estate.”
“I know,” Damien said with a small nod.
“Which means I must move on eventually,” Seraphine replied, smoothing an imaginary crease from her skirt. “I cannot expect him to support me.”
A half-truth. Not a lie. Simply incomplete.
“I should have my own home,” she added, lifting her chin slightly.
His eyes lingered on her face. As though he suspected there was more she was not saying. Fortunately, before he could press further, another voice interrupted.
“Well, this appears suspicious.”
Both turned at once. Caspian approached with a grin; one hand tucked casually into his pocket. Seraphine immediately suspected Thalia's involvement. The Duke of Amberhall looked far too amused.
“What appears suspicious?” Damien asked dryly, folding his arms across his chest.
“You are standing alone with Lady Seraphine,” Caspian replied, gesturing between them.
“I assure you nothing scandalous is occurring,” Damien said, his expression remaining perfectly bland.
Caspian looked unconvinced. “My Duchess sent me to investigate,” he informed them with a shrug.
Seraphine nearly laughed and quickly pressed her lips together.
Of course she had.
Damien pinched the bridge of his nose. “I knew it.”
“You should feel honored,” Caspian said, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.
“I do not.”
Caspian's grin widened. “Thalia was worried.”
Damien arched a brow. “Worried about what?” he asked.
“You,” Caspian said.
That startled Seraphine. Her gaze flicked between the two men. Damien looked equally surprised.
“Me?” he repeated, lowering his arms and pointing lightly at himself.
“She feared you might be too cold toward her friend, and she might be in need of rescue. Since she is occupied with seeing to dinner, she sent me,” Caspian said.
A gleam entered Damien's eyes as he folded his arms across his chest. “Then my sister is worried about the wrong person.”
Caspian let out a bark of laughter and shook his head. Seraphine frowned, her brows drawing together.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
Damien turned his head toward her, one dark brow lifting slightly. For a moment, amusement danced in his green eyes as though he alone understood the joke.
“It is I who they should be concerned about, not worried about,” he said lightly.
Seraphine tilted her head.
“Concerned about what?” she pressed.
His smile deepened, dimples appearing briefly on his cheeks as he held her gaze. “You, it is you who is the dangerous one.”
Seraphine stared, completely caught off guard by the answer. Caspian burst out laughing. Damien looked pleased with himself. And despite her best efforts, Seraphine felt her cheeks grow warm.
The ridiculous man.
“Dinner is served,” a footman announced at the door saving Seraphine from having to decipher whatever Damien had meant by calling her dangerous.
Guests began drifting towards the dining room in orderly pairs.
The pleasant hum of conversation filled the corridor as ladies accepted offered arms and gentlemen competed for their attention.
Seraphine had only just begun to consider whom she might walk beside when Lord Nathanson appeared before her.
His expression was pleasant enough, if somewhat serious.
“Lady Seraphine,” he said with a polite bow, extending his arm. “May I have the honor of escorting you to dinner?”
Surprise flickered through her.
“Thank you, Lord Nathanson,” she replied with a flawless smile as she accepted his arm. “I would be delighted.”
As they walked away, she gave a brief nod to Damien and Caspian.
Did Damien flinch or did I imagine it?
As they continued towards the dining room, Seraphine took the opportunity to study Nathanson more carefully.
He appeared to be around thirty-eight years old.
A widower. No children. Possessed of a respectable fortune and a modest estate.
He was neither handsome nor unattractive.
Merely ordinary. There was something almost comforting about that.
Not every gentleman needed to look like Damien to be appealing.
Though unfortunately, comparing men to Damien was becoming an increasingly troublesome habit.
Lord Nathanson guided her into the grand dining room.
Candles glowed from crystal chandeliers overhead, casting warm golden light across the long table.
Fresh flowers decorated the centerpieces and silver gleamed wherever she looked.
Amberhall never did anything by halves. The entire room looked magnificent.
Lord Nathanson pulled out her chair with proper courtesy.
“Thank you, my lord,” Seraphine said as she took her seat.
“My pleasure.” He settled himself to her right.
Then Seraphine looked to her left. And nearly sighed aloud. Damien lowered himself into the chair beside her.
Of course he has.
The man seemed capable of appearing beside her whenever he pleased. She was suddenly seated between two gentlemen. The awareness of it made heat creep into her cheeks. Damien noticed immediately. His mouth twitched.
Insufferable.