Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
“Well,” Rosaline said gently as she stepped onto the terrace, joining Seraphine. “I thought I might find you hiding out here.” Her sister smiled warmly and moved to stand beside her. “Are you quite alright?”
Concern softened her features as she studied Seraphine's face. Rosaline had always possessed an irritating talent for noticing things others missed. Even as children, she could somehow detect trouble before Seraphine had admitted it existed. That talent appeared entirely intact.
Seraphine immediately offered a reassuring smile.
“I am perfectly fine,” she said as she folded her hands together.
“I merely wanted some fresh air.” The excuse sounded weak even to her own ears.
She kept her gaze fixed firmly upon the gardens rather than her sister.
If she looked directly at Rosaline, she feared the truth might spill out before she could stop it.
She had become rather skilled at hiding her worries these past weeks.
“Hm.” Rosaline leaned casually against the stone railing. “And this has nothing whatsoever to do with the Duke of Wexford?”
The question landed with all the subtlety of a cannonball. Her tone remained innocent enough, but amusement danced in her eyes. Clearly, she already suspected the answer. Seraphine felt her heart leap straight into her throat. Of all the subjects she had expected, that was not one of them.
She turned so quickly she nearly tangled herself in her skirts.
“The Duke of Wexford?” she repeated in alarm.
“Why on earth would you think such a thing?” Her words came out far too quickly.
“I hardly know the man. We have exchanged only a handful of conversations. Well, perhaps more than a handful, but certainly not enough to justify such ridiculous conclusions.” The moment she stopped speaking, she realized she had only made herself look guilty.
Rosaline slowly crossed her arms over her chest. “You know,” she remarked thoughtfully, “that reaction is not particularly reassuring.” Her smile widened slightly.
“Laurent mentioned something last night to me.” She paused just long enough to make Seraphine nervous.
“He said he had noticed his brother paying an unusual amount of attention to you.” Rosaline tilted her head.
“After he mentioned it, I realized he was absolutely right.”
Seraphine opened her mouth. Then it closed again. To her horror, she could not think of a single response. Because what was she supposed to say? Damien had refused her marriage proposal? That he had kissed her on a balcony?
That every time he entered a room, she became incapable of sensible thought? None of those comments seemed particularly appropriate.
Rosaline's expression softened immediately. “Ah,” she said quietly. “There it is.” She reached over and gently squeezed Seraphine's hand. “You can tell me, you know.” Her voice was warm and sincere. “Whatever it is.”
The simple kindness made her heart ache. For one terrible moment, Seraphine wanted nothing more than to tell her everything. Every secret. Every fear. Every impossible complication.
The temptation was almost overwhelming. She wanted to confess that William intended to send her away.
She wanted to admit how frightened she truly was.
She wanted to explain that she had proposed marriage to a duke in the most scandalous way possible and been rejected.
Most of all, she wanted someone else to carry the burden for a little while.
But she could not do it. Rosaline had her own family now. Her own happiness. Seraphine could not place this worry on her shoulders. So she settled for a smaller truth instead.
After a long silence, she lowered her eyes and sighed. “I confess,” she admitted quietly, “that His Grace has piqued my interest somewhat since arriving here.”
The words felt surprisingly difficult to say aloud. “But nothing more than that.” She attempted a small smile. “He is difficult to ignore when he spends half his time teasing me.” That part, at least, was undeniably true.
Rosaline's expression became thoughtful.
“I see.” She looked out over the gardens for several moments before speaking again.
“Then I shall tell you something that you may not particularly enjoy hearing.” Her voice remained gentle.
“Be careful with him, Seraphine.” The warning settled heavily between them.
“Laurent tells me that Damien is a very strict man beneath all that charm and wit.”
Seraphine swallowed.
Rosaline continued quietly. “He has apparently declared for years that he will never marry.”
The words hurt far more than they should have. Because she already knew they were true. She had heard him say as much herself. She had felt his silent rejection after the kiss.
Yet hearing someone else say it somehow made it real all over again.
Rosaline reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I do not want to see you get hurt.” Her voice softened further. “Do not be fooled into thinking his attentions will equal marriage.”
The simple statement nearly shattered the fragile composure Seraphine had been maintaining all morning. Her throat tightened painfully. She blinked several times in quick succession. Before her sister could notice, Seraphine stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her.
Rosaline immediately hugged her back. For a few precious moments neither woman spoke.
Seraphine buried her face against her sister's shoulder and closed her eyes.
She held on tightly, drawing comfort from the familiar embrace.
Behind her eyelids, tears threatened dangerously.
Not because of Damien alone. Not because of William, either.
Because of everything. The deadline. The uncertainty. The impossible choices waiting for her.
Rosaline rubbed her back gently. “It will be alright,” she murmured.
Seraphine wished she believed that. Still, she nodded against her sister's shoulder. And held her a little tighter. Because for the moment, it was the closest thing to safety she had.
The following day brought one of Thalia's most elaborate entertainments yet. A grand picnic had been arranged upon the rolling lawn beside Amberhall's pond, and by late morning the grounds were bustling with activity.
Damien walked slowly across the grass, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the gathering.
White linen cloths had been spread beneath several large oaks, while servants moved amongst the guests, carrying baskets filled with pastries, fruit, cold meats, and cakes.
Ladies sheltered beneath colorful parasols as they laughed together, while gentlemen lounged on blankets drinking punch and discussing horses, politics, and sporting wagers.
The pond itself glittered beneath the summer sun.
Swans drifted lazily across the water, entirely unconcerned by the crowd gathered nearby.
Children chased one another through the grass under the watchful eyes of their mothers.
Somewhere in the distance, a violinist had begun playing a cheerful tune.
The entire scene looked like something painted upon a canvas. Damien found it all faintly exhausting.
Naturally, his eyes found Seraphine within moments.
She sat beneath a tree with several ladies.
Even from a distance, he recognized the curve of her smile.
It was becoming alarmingly easy to find her in any crowd.
His brother would undoubtedly notice. Laurent seemed to notice everything lately.
Damien considered turning around and walking in the opposite direction.
Instead, he walked directly towards her. A terrible decision. One he made anyway.
Seraphine looked up as his shadow fell across her picnic blanket. For the briefest moment, surprise flickered across her face before her expression settled into polite composure. The sight annoyed him more than it should have. He was beginning to dislike polite composure when it came from her.
“Your Grace,” she greeted, inclining her head.
“Lady Seraphine,” he replied as he stopped before her. “Would you care for some refreshment?”
She hesitated for only a moment. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
He held out her hand to help her rise to her feet. The moment she touched it a heat moved through him.
Vital mistake.
Damien immediately became aware of several pairs of eyes following them as they walked away.
Most likely Thalia's. Almost certainly Laurent’s.
They crossed the lawn together towards the refreshment tables.
A servant was pouring punch into crystal glasses while guests gathered nearby exchanging conversation.
As Seraphine reached for one of the glasses at the same moment he did, their hands brushed accidentally.
The contact lasted less than a second. It felt considerably longer. Once more heat shot through him with ridiculous speed.
Damien clenched his jaw.
This is becoming a problem. A profoundly serious problem.
Seraphine appeared equally affected, though she recovered first. She accepted her glass and thanked the servant.
They began walking slowly along the edge of the pond.
“Are you enjoying the house party?” he asked, taking a sip of punch as he glanced towards her.
Seraphine turned her face towards the pond, watching a pair of swans glide gracefully across the water. A gentle breeze stirred several loose curls near her temples, and she tucked one behind her ear before answering.
“I am. Your sister has created something rather wonderful.”
Damien followed her gaze towards the festivities spread across the lawn. He had spent most of his life avoiding gatherings precisely like this one, yet seeing Amberhall filled with happy guests brought an unexpected sense of satisfaction.
A hint of pride stirred within him. “She is a good host.”