Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Damien escorted Seraphine back towards the collection of picnic blankets spread across the lawn.
As they approached the blanket, Rosaline looked up from where she sat beneath a parasol with their child in her lap. Beside her sat Laurent, looking entirely too observant for Damien's liking.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Seraphine thanked him politely before settling beside her sister.
Laurent's gaze immediately shifted from Seraphine to Damien. One dark eyebrow rose. Damien felt an irrational desire to throw him into the pond.
Fortunately, Laurent said nothing. Damien appreciated his brother's silence.
“Your Grace,” Rosaline said pleasantly as she adjusted Annie's bonnet.
“Good day,” Damien replied with a short nod.
The child immediately waved a sticky hand at him. Damien stared at her. She stared back. Then she offered him half of a biscuit.
Rosaline laughed. “Annie appears to have something for you.”
Damien looked at the biscuit as though it were a legal document requiring review. “I am honored.”
Seraphine promptly covered a smile. He excused himself before his sanity deteriorated any further.
“If you all will excuse me,” he said.
Moving through the crowd, Damien exchanged greetings with various guests.
Most conversations proved harmless enough.
Discussions about weather, horses, estates, and investments filled the afternoon.
He was halfway through speaking with an elderly Viscount about crop yields when Lord Shelding approached.
“Your Grace,” Lord Shelding greeted with a polite bow, one hand resting against his waistcoat.
“Lord Shelding,” Damien replied with a short inclination of his head.
The gentleman accepted a glass of punch from a passing servant and swirled the contents thoughtfully before taking a sip.
“I was curious how your investments fare these days,” he said, studying Damien over the rim of his glass.
Damien took a measured sip of his own drink before answering.
“They are prospering nicely,” Damien replied.
“Excellent news,” Shelding said with a smile, adjusting his cuff. “These are difficult times for commerce.”
Damien merely raised a brow and waited, his expression unreadable as he studied the other man. The man continued, leaning slightly closer as though discussing a matter of importance.
“I was only saying yesterday how unfortunate this war business with France remains. Trade restrictions benefit no one.”
Damien narrowed his eyes slightly and shifted his weight onto one foot, watching Shelding carefully over the rim of his glass.
Damien replied smoothly. “Quite unfortunate.”
Lord Shelding launched into a lengthy opinion regarding tariffs, shipping routes, and international trade.
Damien listened politely while mentally dissecting every word.
The conversation itself was harmless enough, but he disliked the man's enthusiasm whenever profit entered the discussion.
There was nothing inherently wrong with ambition. Damien himself possessed plenty of it.
Still. Something felt off. Not dangerous, yet. But enough to warrant attention. Speaking against the crown’s interest in war could be seen as treason by some.
After several minutes, Damien excused himself with impeccable courtesy.
The moment he escaped, he headed directly towards his sister’s husband, Caspian Turner.
The Duke of Amberhall was lounging beneath a tree looking entirely too relaxed for a man responsible for forty guests. Caspian held a glass of brandy despite it being the middle of the afternoon.
“Your Grace,” Caspian smirked as he lifted his glass in a lazy salute.
“How formal of you,” Damien said and glanced towards the crowd. “What do you know about Lord Shelding?”
“Not much. I know he has some business dealings with Lord Pemberley.”
Damien's expression darkened at once.
Pemberley. The very same man I punched. Wonderful.
“And?” Damien prompted, arching a brow.
Caspian swirled the brandy in his glass before answering. “And that is all I know.”
Damien frowned. “Why was he invited?”
Caspian laughed outright, tipping his head back. The sound earned him a flat stare from Damien. “My dear fellow,” Caspian said between chuckles, wiping at the corner of one eye, “you are asking the wrong host.”
Damien crossed his arms across his chest. Caspian grinned, entirely unrepentant. “Thalia arranged most of the guest list,” Caspian said, taking another leisurely sip of his brandy.
That sounded exactly like his sister. “Why?” Damien asked, folding his arms across his chest.
Caspian's smile widened further. “Because she is attempting to play matchmaker,” he replied, gesturing vaguely towards the assembled guests with his glass.
Damien nearly groaned.
Of course she is.
“She invited every eligible bachelor she could find who lacked scandal,” Caspian added with a chuckle.
“That seems reckless,” Damien said dryly.
“That seems like Thalia,” Caspian countered, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.
Damien reluctantly conceded the point. Caspian studied him for a moment, his gaze sharpening with interest. Then his grin became suspicious.
“Why do you care?” he asked, tilting his head.
“I do not,” Damien replied immediately.
“Mm.” Caspian hummed, unconvinced. “Of course,” Caspian said, his grin only growing wider.
The amusement in Caspian's eyes was deeply irritating. Damien abruptly turned away before the man could continue. He immediately regretted it.
Because his gaze landed upon Seraphine. Again. She remained seated upon the blanket with Rosaline and little Annie. The child appeared to be attempting to crown herself with wildflowers. Seraphine was helping her. The sight was absurdly wholesome. Damien hated how much he enjoyed watching it.
Then Lord Everend sat down beside her.
His mood soured instantly. Everend leaned towards Seraphine, saying something that made her laugh. Damien could not hear the words from this distance. Unfortunately, he could see her smile perfectly well. The gentleman then selected a piece of fruit from a nearby basket and offered it to her.
Seraphine accepted the offered fruit with a gracious smile.
Everend smiled in return, appearing entirely pleased with himself.
Damien felt something unpleasant tighten in his chest as he watched the exchange.
The sensation arrived swiftly and without invitation.
It settled somewhere beneath his ribs like a stone.
For a moment he simply stared across the lawn, trying to convince himself that there was nothing remarkable about what he had just witnessed.
What nonsense. Absolute nonsense.
The man was doing precisely what Damien himself had encouraged.
Had he not spent days reminding himself that Seraphine deserved a suitable husband?
Had he not repeatedly insisted that he had no intention of pursuing her himself?
Everend represented everything a sensible woman ought to seek in a husband.
He was respectable. Stable. Well-mannered. A gentleman with a good reputation, a comfortable fortune, and no troublesome scandals attached to his name. The sort of man mothers approved of, and fathers welcomed into their drawing rooms. Exactly the sort of husband Seraphine required.
Damien should have been pleased. Instead, his jaw tightened.
His grip around his glass increased until the crystal protested with a faint creak.
He immediately loosened his hold before he shattered it in front of half the county.
The last thing he needed was to explain why the sight of another man offering Seraphine a piece of fruit had nearly resulted in property damage.
Across the lawn, Annie appeared to say something that made Seraphine laugh. The sound did not reach him from this distance, yet he could see the brightness of her expression clearly enough. Everend laughed as well, leaning slightly towards her as though they shared some private amusement.
Damien disliked that far more than he cared to admit.
Nearby, Caspian followed his gaze. “Oh.”
The single syllable carried entirely too much understanding. Damien instantly disliked that word.
Slowly, he turned his head towards his brother-in-law. “Oh?” he repeated coldly.
Caspian folded his arms and regarded him with infuriating amusement. “Now I understand.”
“You understand nothing,” Damien said coldly.
“I understand quite a lot,” Caspian smirked.
Damien looked away from the blanket before he was tempted to say something regrettable. Unfortunately, that did not help.
Because even while speaking to Caspian, he remained painfully aware of Everend's presence beside her.
His attention kept drifting back despite every effort to focus elsewhere.
He noticed when Everend spoke. He noticed when Seraphine smiled.
He noticed when she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear while listening.
Most irritatingly of all, he noticed how comfortable they appeared together.
The ease of their conversation suggested familiarity already beginning to form. There was no awkwardness between them, no strained politeness. They looked exactly as two unmarried people ought to look when becoming acquainted.
Ridiculous. Entirely ridiculous.
And yet when Everend leaned slightly closer to her, Damien found his fist clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
I only have to endure a few more days then I will never see her again.
Thalia suddenly appeared beside Seraphine's blanket with the look of a woman who was about to unleash chaos upon unsuspecting guests. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she clasped her hands together.
“Pay attention, everyone,” she announced, barely containing her delight as she looked around at the gathering. “You are going to love this.”