Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
"Mind the blue trunk," Seraphine said gently, turning towards two footmen as they lifted it between them.
The following day was grey and still over Donmere House, as though even the heavens had grown reluctant to witness another farewell.
Servants hurried through the entrance hall beneath Seraphine's careful direction, carrying trunks and hatboxes towards the waiting carriage while the familiar sounds of the household echoed through the home that had sheltered her since childhood.
Every footstep reminded her that she was leaving it forever.
Oddly enough, she found that she had already begun mourning the place before she had even crossed its threshold.
She folded her hands to hide their trembling and forced a reassuring smile.
"There are books inside that trunk that I love. I should be very sorry if they were damaged."
The servants bowed at once, while she silently wondered whether those books would ever again sit upon shelves, she could truly call her own.
Her maid, Maria, appeared beside her carrying another parcel, her eyes already suspiciously bright with unshed tears.
"I wish you were not going, Miss," she said softly as she adjusted the ribbon securing the parcel. "The house shall not feel the same without you." Her voice faltered at the end, and Seraphine felt her own resolve weaken for the briefest moment.
"Oh, Maria," Seraphine replied, laying a gentle hand upon the maid's arm.
She managed a smile that did not quite reach her eyes before giving the woman's sleeve an affectionate squeeze.
"Do not trouble yourself on my account. Westborough Abbey shall make a perfectly respectable home for me, and I daresay I shall become frightfully pious before the year is out.
" She attempted to laugh, but it sounded painfully hollow even to her own ears.
The words tasted like surrender. Only days earlier she had imagined herself becoming a wife, perhaps even discovering happiness despite the hurried circumstances forced upon her.
Instead, every hopeful dream had crumbled beneath a scandal threatening to emerge at any moment, disappointment, and the painful certainty that she had mistaken Damien's growing affection for something deeper than a mere flirtation.
If she entered the Abbey by her own choosing, then at least one decision regarding her future would belong solely to her.
The sound of measured footsteps announced Lord Donmere before he appeared in the hall.
William entered with the cheerful satisfaction of a man convinced he had managed every matter precisely as he ought.
He rubbed his hands together as he surveyed the preparations, nodding approvingly at the servants bustling about with her belongings.
To him, this was merely another household matter being efficiently concluded.
"Yes, yes," William declared with an enthusiastic nod, clasping his hands behind his back.
"The Abbey is a very good home indeed. My own sister says as much in every letter she sends me.
You shall make fast friends with her there, Seraphine.
" He smiled broadly, entirely pleased with the comfort he believed he was offering.
Seraphine lowered her eyes for one brief moment before summoning every ounce of politeness within her.
"How gracious of you to say so, Lord Donmere," she replied, inclining her head with impeccable courtesy.
"I do hope your sister remains in excellent health.
" Her smile remained perfectly composed, though inwardly she wondered how any brother could consign his own sister to such a life and still speak of it so lightly.
Before William could continue extolling the virtues of abbey life, an enormous pounding shook the front door.
Every servant froze. Maria gasped softly.
Even William looked startled enough to lose his smile.
The thunderous knocking echoed through the entrance hall a second time before Mrs. Pennyworth hurried to answer it.
The housekeeper scarcely had time to open the door before a deep, commanding voice rolled into the hall.
"I must see Lady Seraphine immediately."
The words struck Seraphine like lightning. Her entire body stiffened. Her breath caught painfully in her throat. She knew that voice. She would have recognized it anywhere.
Damien.
Her heart lurched violently against her ribs.
What on earth is he doing here? Has Lord Whickham already broken his promise? Has gossip reached London? Has Damien come merely to tell me that everything is now beyond repair?
A hundred dreadful possibilities crowded her mind before she even saw him.
Then he appeared.
Damien strode into the hall looking nothing like the composed Duke she had come to know.
His dark hair was windswept, his breathing uneven, and there was an unmistakable urgency about him, as though he had scarcely paused to rest since leaving Amberhall.
Dust clung to the shoulders of his coat, and in one gloved hand he clutched a folded document bearing an official seal.
Without preamble he crossed the hall and held the paper towards her.
"Three days," he said, his chest still rising heavily as he met her bewildered gaze. His voice was firm despite his exertion. "We shall be married in three days. It is a special license."
Seraphine stared first at the paper, then at Damien, utterly incapable of making sense of the words she had just heard.
"Whatever do you mean?" she asked, her fingers refusing to accept the document. She searched his face for some hint of jest and found none. "Have you gone mad, Your Grace?"
Damien glanced around the crowded hall before returning his attention to her. His expression tightened.
"Is there somewhere we might speak privately?" he asked, lowering his voice. "There are matters that should not be discussed before an audience."
"Of course," Seraphine answered automatically, still struggling to comprehend what was happening. She gestured towards the sitting room with a slightly trembling hand. "If you would follow me."
Every pair of eyes in the hall remained fixed upon them as she led him away.
William drifted after them, his curiosity plainly overcoming his manners. He had nearly reached the doorway when Damien halted and turned. One cool, commanding look from the Duke was enough to stop him in his tracks.
"I believe I requested a private conversation," Damien said evenly.
William blinked before hastily retreating a step. "Quite so... quite so. I shall leave you to it. Your Grace, you are most welcome at Donmere House." He offered an awkward bow before remaining outside.
Seraphine quietly closed the sitting-room door and turned to face Damien. The silence between them seemed almost unbearable. She still held the folded license in her hand without truly seeing it.
"What is this?" she asked, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "I do not understand."
Damien studied her for a long moment before asking quietly, "Why did you leave Amberhall?"
She laughed once, a brittle, humorless sound that surprised even herself.
"You ask me that after what happened? I left because I grew tired of waiting for men to decide my future," she replied, clutching the license tightly between her fingers.
"If my reputation was to be ruined, then at least the consequences would occur on my own terms. You refused me once already.
Why should I have believed you would ever change your mind? "
His jaw tightened. "Because I shall do my duty," he answered after a brief silence. "You are now my responsibility. As Duke of Wexford, I do not neglect my responsibilities."
The words struck her and left her feeling dazed.
"Duty?"
"It is because of my actions that your reputation is put in jeopardy and therefore it is my responsibility to remedy the problem" he said.
"Is that all I am to you?" she asked, blinking rapidly as tears stung her eyes despite every effort to restrain them. She lifted her chin with quiet dignity. "A responsibility?"
Damien said nothing.
His silence answered more cruelly than words ever could.
Something inside her quietly fractured. She had known she ought not to expect declarations of affection, yet some foolish, hopeful corner of her heart had imagined there might be something more than duty behind his arrival.
Instead she found herself mourning a hope she had never dared to admit aloud.
After several long moments Damien spoke again. "What is your intention now? There are trunks outside."
"I am going to Westborough Abbey," she answered steadily.
His head snapped upwards. "The nunnery?" he repeated, genuine astonishment breaking through his composed exterior. "Why would you willingly choose such a future?"
She drew a slow breath.
"I have not been truthful with you," she confessed quietly. "There was more to the reason I came to Wexford Manor that night to ask for your hand."
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
She lowered her gaze to the license still resting in her hands.
"When Lord Donmere inherited my father's estate," she said softly, "he informed me that I had one month to marry and leave this house.
If I failed..." Her voice faltered before she forced herself onward.
"He had already arranged for me to enter Westborough Abbey.
He sent his own sister there when he could no longer afford to maintain her. The same fate awaited me."
Silence.
She slowly raised her eyes.
The color had drained from Damien's face. His expression hardened with terrifying speed until his green eyes darkened to black. Every trace of restraint vanished beneath a fury she had never before witnessed.
"What?" he demanded.
The single word cracked through the room like thunder.
Before Seraphine could answer, Damien turned sharply, strode to the door, flung it open, and marched out into the corridor with unmistakable purpose.