Chapter 22 #2
Seraphine remained rooted to the spot, her heart pounding as she stared after him, dread slowly tightening its grip upon her chest.
The moment he walked out of the room, Damien saw nothing, but red.
Fury pounded through his veins with such force that it drowned out every sensible thought.
His boots struck the polished floor in long, purposeful strides as he marched through Donmere House, scarcely noticing the startled servants flattening themselves against the walls to avoid his path.
Every word Seraphine had spoken echoed through his mind.
One month to marry. An abbey if she failed.
The more he considered it, the less he trusted himself to remain civil.
Why did she not tell me? How has she carried such a burden alone while smiling through dinners, dances, and polite conversation?
He thought back to the night she had arrived at Wexford Manor and proposed marriage with such quiet dignity. He had believed it peculiar and impulsive. Now he understood. She had not been chasing a title. She had been fighting for her freedom. And he, blind fool that he was, had sent her away.
A footman pointed him towards the drawing room without Damien needing to ask.
He reached the doorway and stepped inside without knocking.
Lord Donmere stood beside the fireplace, leisurely pouring himself a glass of claret as though the world contained not a single care.
At the sight of the Duke, the Earl’s face brightened immediately.
"Oh! Your Grace," Lord Donmere exclaimed, setting the decanter aside with an eager smile.
He spread his arms in welcome before noticing Damien's expression.
The smile faltered. "How... delightful...
" His voice dwindled into silence as he instinctively stepped backwards until his shoulders met the wall. "Is... is something the matter?"
"The matter," Damien said, advancing across the room with frightening composure, "is that you threatened Lady Seraphine Fairchild.
" He stopped only a pace away, towering over the smaller man, his voice dangerously quiet.
"If you ever dare interfere with any of the Fairchild sisters again, I shall personally see to your complete demise. Do you understand me?"
The Earl stared at him, blinking rapidly as color drained from his cheeks.
"Y--Your Grace," he stammered, raising both hands defensively, "whatever do you mean?
I have always treated Lady Seraphine exceedingly well.
" His laugh came out thin and nervous. "Why, she has wanted for nothing under my roof. "
Damien let out a humorless laugh that chilled the room.
"Wanted for nothing?" he repeated, taking another deliberate step forward until the Earl had nowhere left to retreat.
"You attempted to send her from her childhood home to live out the remainder of her life within an abbey while you enjoyed the fortune accumulated by her father.
" His jaw tightened visibly. "Pray explain how that constitutes kindness. "
The Earl swallowed hard before hurriedly shaking his head.
"It was merely an idle threat," he protested, wringing his hands together.
"I never truly intended to send her there.
I simply wished to... encourage her to marry.
Ladies sometimes require a little motivation, you understand.
" Even as he spoke, his own words sounded increasingly feeble.
"A little motivation?" Damien repeated, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.
"Her trunks are outside ready to be sent to the abbey as we speak.
You sought to frighten an innocent young lady into surrendering control of her future because it suited your convenience.
" He folded his arms across his chest, struggling to master the anger threatening to spill over.
"There is not a gentleman alive who would call that honorable. "
Lord Donmere opened his mouth to defend himself again, but the words died as movement appeared in the doorway.
Damien's attention shifted only briefly. Seraphine stood upon the threshold, one hand resting against the frame, her face pale with alarm. She had evidently followed him after realizing exactly where his temper had carried him. Their eyes met for the briefest moment before Damien turned back to Seraphine’s cousin.
"Your Grace," Seraphine said softly, taking a cautious step into the room.
She clasped her hands tightly before her, concern written plainly across her features.
"Please... there is no need for this." Though her voice remained gentle, Damien recognized the familiar instinct beneath it.
Even now she sought to spare another person discomfort rather than see conflict unfold on her behalf.
"There is every need," Damien replied without taking his eyes from the Earl.
His voice remained remarkably controlled despite the storm raging inside him.
"Lady Seraphine has spent weeks believing she was to lose her home through no fault of her own.
" He glanced briefly towards her before returning his attention to the trembling man opposite him.
"She deserved protection. Instead, she was given fear. "
The Earl licked his lips anxiously. "If Lady Seraphine wishes," he blurted out in desperation, "she may remain at Donmere House for as long as she pleases.
Forever, if necessary. I shall never mention the Abbey again.
" He nodded eagerly, clearly believing he had found a satisfactory solution.
"There. The misunderstanding is resolved. "
Damien's expression did not soften in the slightest.
"That will not be necessary," he said with quiet certainty. He lifted his chin slightly as his next words filled the room. "Lady Seraphine shall soon become the Duchess of Wexford after she marries me."
Silence descended with astonishing force.
Lord Donmere appeared incapable of speech. His eyes darted from Damien to Seraphine and back again, as though he suspected he had somehow misunderstood every word. Even the servants lingering nervously beyond the open doorway seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.
"Damien..." Seraphine whispered.
The quiet uncertainty in her voice finally drew his full attention away from the Earl.
He crossed the room towards her in several measured strides, his anger immediately tempering the moment he reached her.
Without hesitation he took her hand in his own, and despite everything that had transpired, she did not pull away.
He gently guided her into the corridor, away from curious ears, before turning to face her fully.
For a long moment he simply looked at her.
She seemed exhausted beyond measure, yet there remained that stubborn courage in her eyes which had first captured his admiration. It only strengthened his resolve.
"You will marry me," he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
He held her gaze steadily, his thumb unconsciously tightening around her hand.
"I am the cause of your reputation standing upon the edge of a knife, and I shall fix it.
" His expression softened, though determination still dominated every feature. "I will not hear your objections."
Seraphine searched his face, confusion, hurt, and longing, mingling painfully within her expression. Damien saw the questions forming behind her eyes.
Did he love her? Was this merely duty? Could such a marriage ever bring happiness?
He knew he possessed none of the answers she deserved. He only knew that he would never permit her future to be sacrificed because of him.
If keeping her safe required binding himself to the woman he had spent weeks trying not to love, then so be it.
He would give her every comfort, every protection, every privilege his title afforded.
He would simply deny himself the one thing he desired most. Better that he carried such loneliness than risk becoming the cold, indifferent husband his father had been.
Without allowing either of them another opportunity to speak, Damien released her hand with obvious reluctance. He inclined his head once, turned sharply upon his heel, and strode towards the front entrance.
"Return the trunks back inside. Lady Seraphine is staying," he said to Mrs. Pennyworth.
Mrs. Pennyworth turned to Lord Donmere.
"Yes, yes bring them back in of course," the Earl said.
Damien did not look back. He knew that from this moment forward he would strive to not become his father.
I must do it for her.