Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Seraphine stood frozen in the cramped storage room as every drop of color drained from her face. The precious Chinese vase rested forgotten upon the crate.
Damien seized Lord Whickham by the lapels of his coat with startling speed. The Duke's expression had turned glacial, every trace of teasing replaced by quiet menace.
“Your--Your Grace,” Whickham stuttered out.
Lady Hannah Branson gave a tiny squeak and clasped her hands together. Seraphine's pulse thundered so violently she scarcely heard herself breathe. She had never seen Damien look quite so menacing.
“You will keep what you have seen to yourself,” Damien said in a voice of deadly calm as he held Lord Whickham firmly.
“Do I make myself perfectly clear?” His green eyes never left the other man's face.
“Should a whisper leave your lips, I shall learn of it.” His grip tightened fractionally.
“And you will find that I am not a forgiving man.”
Lord Whickham swallowed, though the familiar sparkle of mischief still lingered in his eyes. “I…I…understand.”
Lady Hannah hurried towards Seraphine, her skirts brushing the dusty floor.
“Lady Seraphine,” she whispered, taking both her hands in earnest reassurance, “I swear I shall not tell a soul.” She squeezed her fingers gently before glancing nervously towards the gentlemen.
“I shall beg Lord Whickham to remain silent as well.” Her brow furrowed with genuine concern. “You have my promise.”
Seraphine managed a weak smile that failed to reach her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured, gripping Lady Hannah's hands a moment longer. “You are exceedingly kind.” Her voice trembled despite every effort to steady it. “I pray your confidence is stronger than Society's appetite for gossip.”
Lady Hannah nodded vigorously. “It shall be,” she vowed, her cheeks flushed with determination.
Yet Seraphine scarcely heard another word. Panic clawed mercilessly at her chest until every breath became difficult. She knew precisely how the ton worked. One careless rumor became whispered certainty before luncheon, then undeniable fact by supper.
An unmarried lady discovered alone with a gentleman in such circumstances was always ruined beyond repair. No explanation would matter. No defense would be believed.
William would never permit her to remain at Donmere House once the scandal reached him.
The Abbey.
The dreadful notion echoed relentlessly inside her mind.
Cold stone corridors. Endless silence. A future chosen by others because she had failed to secure a husband before her allotted month expired.
She had fought so desperately to escape that fate, only to ruin herself with a single foolish moment of passion. Tears burned behind her eyes.
How could I have forgotten myself so completely? How could I have allowed Damien to unravel every sensible thought I possessed?
“Well,” Lord Whickham said at last, carefully straightening his crumpled coat after Damien finally released him, “I am an honorable fellow.” He rubbed his collar dramatically before flashing his usual grin.
“I shall certainly keep silent…” His gaze drifted towards the vase upon the crate.
“…provided suitable compensation is offered.” He pointed towards it with theatrical innocence.
“The prize would seem fair payment for my impeccable discretion.”
Damien stared at him with open disbelief. “You are attempting to blackmail me,” he observed flatly, folding his arms across his chest.
Lord Whickham placed a hand over his heart in exaggerated offence. “Good heavens, no.” He shook his head solemnly before another grin escaped him. “I merely believe silence has become unexpectedly valuable.” He shrugged. “And I have always admired fine porcelain.”
Seraphine closed her eyes briefly. This absurd conversation scarcely seemed real, yet somehow it was. Without another word she crossed the room, lifted the beautiful Chinese vase into her arms, and walked directly to Lord Whickham.
“Take it,” she said quietly, holding it out before him. “The game matters very little now.”
Lord Whickham's smile faded as he accepted it. “Lady Seraphine…” he began, sounding almost apologetic.
“No,” Seraphine interrupted gently, forcing a polite smile that masked the storm inside her.
“You wished for the prize.” She released the vase into his hands and stepped backwards.
“Congratulations, my lord.” Her fingers trembled at her sides.
She refused to look at Damien. If she met his eyes now, she feared the tears threatening to spill would become impossible to contain.
She slipped past them all before anyone could stop her.
Her slippers echoed against the polished corridor as she walked faster and faster through Amberhall Manor.
The cheerful laughter of treasure hunters drifted from distant rooms, cruelly oblivious to the disaster that had just unfolded.
Every familiar portrait lining the walls seemed suddenly to watch her passing.
She could scarcely draw breath. The corridor narrowed around her until the house itself appeared intent upon swallowing her whole.
By the time she reached the grand staircase, her composure had almost entirely deserted her. She gripped the polished banister for support, drawing one shallow breath after another.
No. I will not collapse in the middle of Thalia's hallway. I am Lady Seraphine Fairchild. I’ve survived my father's tyranny. I have survived humiliation, uncertainty, and heartbreak. I will survive this as well. Somehow.
She hurried to her chamber and shut the door firmly behind her.
Only then did she allow herself to lean against the wood as though her strength had abandoned her entirely.
The silence wrapped around her like a heavy blanket.
Her reflection stared back from the looking glass across the room.
Her lips remained flushed from Damien's kisses.
Her hair had been hastily smoothed but still refused perfect order.
She looked exactly like a woman who had forgotten every lesson of propriety.
A bitter laugh escaped her. “What remains to be done now?”
If gossip spread, no respectable gentleman would offer for her. William would send her away without hesitation. She had spent weeks allowing others to determine her future, Damien selecting suitors, William imposing deadlines, Society dictating every acceptable choice.
But then, a strange calm settled beneath her panic.
“Enough. If my future is already ruined, then perhaps I ought to claim what little control remains.”
She would make the decision herself. If the Abbey truly awaited her, she would go on her own terms instead of waiting to be discarded.
She would leave before whispers reached William.
Before pitying glances followed her through drawing rooms. Before Damien could attempt to rescue a situation that was beyond saving.
Her heart clenched painfully at the thought of it all, but she could not bear sympathy.
As she crossed to the window, movement below caught her eye.
Lady Kane's carriage stood before the entrance, servants fastening luggage securely to the roof. Footmen bustled back and forth while horses stamped impatiently upon the gravel. Lady Kane herself stood beside the carriage, speaking with her maid.
“Lady Kane… of course,” she muttered to herself.
Seraphine remembered the lady mentioning she intended to depart a day early for London. Hope flickered suddenly where only despair had lived moments before.
She did not hesitate.
Gathering her skirts, Seraphine hurried from her room and raced down the staircase with far less decorum than she ordinarily permitted herself. She slipped through the front doors into the warm afternoon air just as Lady Kane prepared to climb into her carriage.
“Lady Kane,” Seraphine called, slightly breathless as she approached. “Might I impose upon your kindness for a most unusual request?”
Lady Kane turned in surprise. “Lady Seraphine?” she asked, lowering her hand from the carriage door. Her brows rose as she took in Seraphine's flushed face. “Whatever has happened?” She stepped closer with evident concern. “You look as though you have seen a ghost.”
“I should like to return to London with you,” Seraphine said, striving to steady her voice despite the turmoil raging inside her.
“If you would permit it, I can have my belongings packed within ten minutes.” She clasped her hands tightly together.
“I realize it is dreadfully sudden.” Her smile wavered.
Lady Kane blinked in astonishment before studying her carefully. “That is certainly unexpected,” she admitted, resting one gloved hand lightly upon Seraphine's arm. “Has someone offended you?” She searched her face kindly.
After a brief pause, she smiled warmly. “No, nothing of the kind. I simply remembered that I have matters to attend to in London and I would like to get an early start on it.”
“You would be most welcome to accompany me. I should be deeply grateful for your company,” Lady Kane replied.
Relief swept through Seraphine so suddenly that her knees nearly weakened.
“Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing Lady Kane's hand gratefully. “You cannot know what your kindness means to me.” She curtsied gracefully despite the ache in her heart. “I shall not keep you waiting long.”
Then, gathering every shred of courage she possessed, Seraphine turned and hurried back inside to leave Amberhall Manor behind before her resolve could fail.
Back in her chamber, Seraphine moved with frantic purpose as though standing still would allow her courage to desert her.
Dresses were lifted from the wardrobe and folded with trembling hands while a startled housemaid hurried to lay them inside her traveling trunk.
Drawers were emptied one after another until ribbons, gloves and neatly pressed fichus disappeared beneath layers of muslin.