Chapter 29 #2
It sounded terribly grand for a woman who was being held in a prison, felt about six years old, and thoroughly miserable.
Only a few minutes later, the familiar knock came upon the door.
"Come in," Seraphine called softly.
Maria stepped inside carrying her usual calm expression, but the moment her eyes settled upon Seraphine's tear-stained face, concern replaced it entirely.
"Oh, Your Grace," Maria exclaimed, hurrying forward. "Whatever has happened?"
Without waiting for permission, Maria crossed to the sideboard, poured a small glass of ruby port, and carried it over.
"Drink this," she said gently, pressing the glass into Seraphine's hands. "It will settle your nerves a little."
Seraphine accepted it with trembling fingers. "You always know precisely what to do," she murmured, managing the faintest smile.
Maria returned the smile with quiet affection.
"That is because I have been looking after you for some time," she replied, settling into the chair beside the bed. "Now tell me who has upset you."
Seraphine stared into the dark liquid before taking a small sip.
"I wish..." Her voice faltered. She tried again. "I wish I could take back the time I went to Wexford Manor at midnight."
Maria frowned. "The night you proposed to His Grace?"
Seraphine nodded miserably. "It was foolish," she whispered. "Utterly foolish."
Maria's eyebrows lifted. "I cannot agree with you there."
"You cannot?" Seraphine asked with wide eyes.
"No." Maria folded her hands neatly in her lap. "Because if you had not gone, you would likely be on your way to the Abbey by now, and I daresay you would not find that particularly agreeable."
Despite herself, Seraphine let out a watery laugh. "I suppose not."
"There now," Maria said with satisfaction. "If I can make you laugh, matters cannot be entirely hopeless."
Seraphine shook her head. "You always did possess unreasonable confidence."
"It comes from years of surviving a difficult employer like your father," Maria replied with perfect seriousness.
That earned another small laugh. Then the smile disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"Maria..." Seraphine whispered, lowering her gaze. "He says he loves me."
Maria blinked. "The Duke told you so?"
"Yes."
"Well..." Maria smiled warmly. "That seems rather wonderful."
"It would be," Seraphine replied, tears filling her eyes once more, "if he had not then immediately agreed that I should go and live with Rosaline in Scotland."
Maria's expression softened. "Oh."
"He says he loves me," Seraphine continued, clutching the glass tightly, "yet he is perfectly content to let me leave." She looked up helplessly. "What sort of love is that?"
Maria was silent for several moments before speaking carefully. "My lady... His Grace has always seemed a good man to me."
"He is a good man," Seraphine admitted with a weary sigh. "That is the worst part."
Maria tilted her head. "How so?"
"Because goodness ought to make matters simpler." Seraphine rubbed at her eyes. "Instead, he confuses me dreadfully."
She rose from the bed and wandered towards the window. "If he truly wished me beside him..., would he not have fought for me?"
Maria joined her at the window. "Men are very strange creatures," she declared wisely.
Seraphine looked sideways at her. "Is that your expert opinion?"
"It is." Maria smiled.
"Based upon extensive study?" Seraphine teased for a moment.
Maria nodded gravely. "I have observed them for years."
Seraphine could not help smiling. "And your conclusion?"
"They are capable of performing astonishingly clever things," Maria said. "Managing estates, winning wars, making fortunes..." She paused. "...yet they become absolute fools the moment emotions are involved."
A genuine laugh escaped Seraphine. "I believe you may have solved the mystery of mankind."
"I do try," Maria laughed.
The humor faded as Seraphine rested her forehead lightly against the cool glass. "My father..." she began quietly. "I do not think I have ever truly recovered from him." Her voice was scarcely above a whisper. "I told myself I had." She swallowed. "But I do not think I ever learned to trust men."
Maria listened without interrupting.
"I scarcely tried to find a husband during previous Seasons," Seraphine confessed. "Everyone believed I was merely being particular." She shook her head. "I was frightened. I kept wondering whether every gentleman would eventually become like Father. Controlling. Cold. Unkind."
Maria reached over and gently squeezed her hand. "You were protecting yourself."
"I thought Damien was different," Seraphine said.
"You still believe that?" Maria asked.
Seraphine closed her eyes. "I do not know what I believe anymore."
Maria's voice remained calm. "Then perhaps do not decide today.
You have both been through a great deal in a brief time," Maria continued.
"You married almost as suddenly as summer rain arrives.
His Grace is frightened of something, though I cannot say what.
You are frightened of becoming trapped again.
" She smiled gently. "Fear has a dreadful habit of making sensible people behave most insensibly. "
Seraphine gave a small sniff. "So your advice is... patience?"
"My advice," Maria said, handing her a fresh handkerchief, "is that neither tears nor packing trunks should occur until after a good night's sleep."
Seraphine accepted the handkerchief. "You always did make everything sound wonderfully practical."
"It is one of my finest qualities."
For the first time since fleeing the corridor, Seraphine felt the tightness in her chest ease ever so slightly.
The pain remained. So did the confusion, but somewhere beneath it lay a quiet, aching certainty that she had not stopped loving Damien.
That was the cruelest part of all.
I love him. I truly do. Whether he wants me or not.