Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
"Congratulations, Your Grace," Lady Paulson said with a nod.
"Thank you kindly," Seraphine said though she was not at all used to hearing the title. She expected to turn to see Damien at her side whenever it was said.
The wedding breakfast continued with cheerful conversation and the pleasant clatter of silver against china, yet for the first time in weeks the burden that had pressed upon her shoulders seemed lighter.
She no longer feared returning to an empty future or counting the days until she was sent away to an abbey.
Whatever awaited her now, she would face it beneath the roof of Wexford Manor.
She stole a glance across the room towards Damien.
Though he stood with his customary composed expression, she found comfort simply in knowing he was there.
My husband. Is this real?
He remained every bit as reserved as ever, speaking little as gentlemen congratulated him upon his marriage.
Yet she realized she no longer mistook his silence for cruelty.
There was steadiness beneath it, a quiet certainty she had come to rely upon.
Whenever disaster had struck these past few days, Damien had appeared as though fate itself had summoned him.
He had protected her reputation, confronted Lord Donmere without hesitation, and crossed half the county to stop her from disappearing into Westborough Abbey.
He might never speak words of tenderness, but his actions possessed a language all their own.
She found herself smiling before she realized she was doing so.
It felt wonderfully unfamiliar. Her father had taught her to expect criticism before kindness and disappointment before comfort.
Yet Damien had never raised his voice to belittle her, nor sought to diminish her spirit.
He challenged her, certainly. He frustrated her beyond measure.
Still, she had never once doubted that he wished to keep her safe.
That quiet certainty settled deep within her heart until another startling truth emerged. She trusted him.
"Seraphine," Thalia called warmly as she approached with two glasses of wine balanced expertly in her hands. Offering one with an affectionate smile, she slipped her free arm through Seraphine's.
"Or perhaps I ought to say, Sister."
Seraphine laughed softly as she accepted the glass. "That still sounds terribly strange."
"It sounds perfectly wonderful." Thalia squeezed her arm.
"I confess," Thalia continued as they wandered towards one of the tall windows, "my brother has astonished me." She shook her head in theatrical disbelief before taking a sip.
"Damien never tells me anything. If the roof collapsed tomorrow, I suspect he would merely remark that repairs were necessary."
Seraphine smiled despite herself. "He does appear rather economical with words."
Thalia laughed brightly. "Economical? My dear, he treats every sentence as though he must pay for it."
She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "When Laurent hinted that Damien had been paying you rather more attention than usual at Amberhall, I suspected something was amiss.
Then, suddenly, I received a letter announcing he had obtained a special license and intended to marry you.
" She spread her hands dramatically. "No explanation.
No details. Simply, 'I am to be married on Thursday'.
And all along I had no idea he was secretly courting you.
Honestly, he shares more information when purchasing a new horse. "
Seraphine laughed, though a pang of guilt followed almost immediately.
There had been no secret courtship. No whispered declarations. No carefully nurtured romance hidden from curious eyes. Our marriage has been born from urgency, compromise, and necessity.
She hated deceiving those who cared for them, particularly Thalia, whose friendship she prized. Yet revealing the truth would only wound Damien's family and invite endless speculation. Some secrets, she realized, protected more than they concealed.
"I am glad it was you," Thalia said sincerely, reaching to squeeze Seraphine's hand. "Truly. I cannot imagine another lady possessing sufficient patience to tolerate my brother."
Seraphine smiled warmly before embracing her. "Thank you. I shall endeavor not to squander your confidence."
Thalia hugged her back with surprising strength. "See that you do not. You are family now."
As they separated, Seraphine glanced across the room and spotted Lady Hannah Branson speaking quietly beside one of the fireplaces. A fresh wave of unease stirred within her.
Lord Whickham's promises still echoed in her memory.
Had he truly remained silent? Or had whispers already begun beyond these welcoming walls?
Excusing herself gently from Thalia, she crossed the room with measured steps, though her heart beat faster than her composed smile suggested.
"Lady Hannah," she said softly as she approached.
Hannah turned immediately and curtsied with an easy smile. "Your Grace. Congratulations."
Seraphine glanced discreetly around the drawing room before lowering her voice. "May I speak with you privately?"
Hannah's expression grew serious at once. "Of course." Without another question, she followed Seraphine into a nearby morning room, closing the door quietly behind them.
For a moment neither woman spoke. Then Seraphine clasped her hands together to steady herself.
"I wished to ask..." She hesitated before forcing herself onward. "Has anyone spoken of what happened in the storage room at Amberhall?"
Hannah answered without delay. "Not me." She shook her head firmly. "I did not tell my mother, nor Katherine. I adore them both, but they cannot resist repeating interesting stories, however innocent their intentions."
Relief washed through Seraphine so swiftly that she swayed where she stood.
"Thank you," she whispered earnestly.
Hannah stepped closer and smiled reassuringly.
"Women must protect other women. Society is quite capable of inventing enough trouble without our assistance.
" She folded her hands before adding gently, "As for Lord Whickham, I cannot answer for him.
Yet had the tale escaped, I believe every drawing room in London would already be buzzing with it. "
"I thought as much," Seraphine admitted, exhaling slowly. "There has been no gossip."
Hannah nodded. "Then perhaps he surprised us all by keeping his promise." A playful smile tugged briefly at her lips. "Though I would not wager a fortune upon his continued discretion."
Seraphine laughed quietly, the tension easing from her shoulders. "Nor would I."
They exchanged one last grateful smile before returning together to the cheerful bustle of the wedding breakfast.
Later, as the musicians struck up another lively tune and guests drifted between the drawing room and the terrace, Seraphine found herself beside Lady Kane near one of the library doors. Lady Kane regarded her fondly before reaching to straighten the white silk scarf at her shoulders.
"It suits you beautifully," she observed. Seraphine smiled.
"My husband asked me to wear it."
Lady Kane nodded approvingly. "A thoughtful gesture."
For a moment Seraphine hesitated before lowering her voice. "May I confess something rather embarrassing?"
Lady Kane's eyes twinkled kindly. "My dear, weddings encourage embarrassing confessions. Proceed."
Seraphine laughed softly, twisting her wedding ring upon her finger. "Everything feels so... new. I scarcely know what to expect of married life."
Lady Kane's smile softened into one of quiet understanding.
"You need not possess every answer on your first day as a wife," Lady Kane replied gently, laying a reassuring hand upon Seraphine's arm.
"Marriage unfolds one day at a time. Be patient with yourself and allow your husband the same grace.
Trust is built through countless ordinary moments as much as extraordinary ones. "
Seraphine absorbed the words thoughtfully.
Ordinary moments.
Somehow that prospect comforted her more than any grand declaration ever could.
As Lady Kane was called away by her husband, Seraphine remained standing beside the window for a moment.
Her gaze drifted instinctively towards Damien across the room. He was now her husband and a flutter of anxiousness moved through her as she realized…
And tonight is the wedding night.
That night, Seraphine stood before the looking glass as the Duchess of Wexford. She scarcely recognized the young woman staring back at her. The candlelight softened every edge of the elegant room, casting a warm glow over the delicate ivory nightdress Rosaline had insisted upon purchasing.
It was finer than anything Seraphine had ever owned, trimmed with lace, and tied neatly with pale ribbons. She smoothed trembling hands over the fabric and drew a slow breath, reminding herself that she was now a married woman.
And I must perform my wifely duties.
She had imagined this moment countless times over the past two days, not the wedding itself, but the waiting afterwards.
As a proper wife, she remained seated upon the edge of the great four-poster bed, her hands folded carefully in her lap. Every creak of the old house made her glance towards the door. Every passing minute stretched longer than the last.
He will come. Surely, he will.
An hour slipped by, the fire crackled softly, the candles burned lower, and still Damien did not appear.
Where is he? Should I go to him?
Seraphine stared at the untouched cup of tea resting beside the hearth and felt disappointment slowly settle inside her chest. Their marriage had been born from duty rather than courtship; she understood that well enough.
Yet she could not reconcile the man who had kissed her with such fierce conviction in the storage room with the husband who had seemingly forgotten she existed.
Her brows knitted together.
What is he thinking? Has he already regretted marrying me?
The thought stung far more than she wished to admit.