Chapter 30 #2
"I cannot tell her everything," he murmured.
"I know." Thalia nodded with understanding. "But when this mysterious business is over..." She smiled knowingly. "...you had better spend the rest of your life convincing that poor girl she was worth fighting for."
Then, Damien allowed himself the smallest smile. "I suspect," he said quietly, "that may take rather a long time."
Thalia laughed. "My dear brother." She reached for her gloves. "That is precisely how long a good marriage lasts."
Folding her gloved hands tightly before her, Seraphine quietly instructed, “Please be careful with the smaller trunk. It contains my books.”
Seraphine stood in the grand foyer of Wexford Manor, watching two footmen carry the last of her trunks towards the waiting entrance.
The polished marble floor reflected the morning light pouring through the tall windows, making the house appear almost cheerful.
She thought it dreadfully inconsiderate that such a beautiful morning should accompany the unhappiest day of her married life.
Maria hovered nearby with a worried expression, tying Seraphine's traveling cloak.
“Lady Rosaline ought to arrive at any moment, Your Grace,” she said gently, searching Seraphine's face.
Seraphine forced a smile that never reached her eyes.
“Yes,” she answered softly, glancing towards the long drive beyond the windows.
“I expect she shall not keep me waiting.” Even speaking the words caused something inside her chest to ache.
She had imagined leaving many places in her life.
She had never imagined leaving her husband so shortly after becoming his wife.
The sound of measured footsteps echoed across the entrance hall.
Seraphine turned before she could stop herself.
Damien descended the sweeping staircase with his usual composed confidence, dressed in a dark morning coat that somehow made him appear even taller than usual.
His expression remained unreadable, as though the last dreadful days had never happened.
Her foolish heart immediately lifted despite every effort to keep it firmly under control.
Perhaps he has changed his mind. Has he realized he cannot bear to let me leave after all?
He reached the last step and stopped before her. For a long moment neither of them spoke. Seraphine searched his handsome face desperately for some sign of emotion, some indication that he regretted this impossible decision.
Instead, he merely regarded her with those familiar green eyes that gave away so extraordinarily little. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat before forcing herself to speak.
“Well,” she said, attempting a brightness she certainly did not feel, “I am all packed.” She gestured weakly towards the open door where her trunks waited. “Everything appears ready.”
Damien inclined his head once. “I can see that,” he replied quietly.
His gaze lingered on her travelling cloak for the briefest moment before returning to her face.
“I shall endeavor to visit you in Scotland if my affairs permit it. Preferably before the weather turns.” His voice remained maddeningly calm, as though discussing the purchase of new drapes rather than the separation of husband and wife.
That is all? No request for me to remain. No declaration that he has reconsidered. No desperate confession that he cannot endure my absence?
Seraphine stared at him in disbelief while disappointment washed over her in another crushing wave.
Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain he must hear it.
Why was he not stopping her? If he genuinely loved her, as he had said only days ago, why was he calmly arranging visits as though she were merely some distant relation? Had she misunderstood everything?
She lowered her eyes before he could see the hurt gathering there. “How... thoughtful of you,” she murmured, smoothing one gloved hand over the folds of her cloak simply to give herself something to do.
Inside, every hope she had stubbornly clung to since their argument crumbled a little further.
She had secretly believed that, when the moment truly arrived, he would realize he could not let her go.
Instead, he looked prepared to escort her to the carriage himself if necessary.
The knowledge hurt far more than she wished to admit.
An abrupt pounding rattled the heavy front door before either of them could speak again. The sharp sound echoed through the foyer, causing every servant present to glance up in surprise.
Seraphine's heart skipped. “Rosaline?” she asked, lifting her head hopefully. “She is earlier than expected.”
Damien frowned slightly and strode towards the entrance. “I do not believe so,” he said, reaching for the brass handle. “Her carriage would have been announced from the gates.”
He opened the door to reveal a mud-splattered messenger standing upon the front steps, breathing heavily from obvious haste.
The young man removed his cap at once. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing quickly before producing a sealed letter. “This was sent under urgent instruction.”
Damien accepted the folded paper without a word. The messenger bowed again before retreating towards his waiting horse, clearly under orders to waste no time lingering.
Seraphine watched curiously as Damien broke the seal.
“What is it?” she asked, taking an unconscious step closer.
“Has something happened?” Damien did not answer immediately.
His eyes moved rapidly across the contents of the letter.
Then, quite suddenly, every trace of composure vanished from his face.
His jaw tightened. His shoulders stiffened.
A serious intensity entered his eyes that she had seen only once before, when he had confronted Lord Donmere on her behalf.
Without another word he folded the letter sharply and slipped it into his coat.
“James!” he called, his deep voice booming through the house with startling authority. “My riding cloak. Immediately.”
The butler appeared instantly. Damien barely waited for him. “And my gloves,” he continued briskly. “Ready my horse at once.” His gaze shifted towards another footman.
The entire household sprang into motion. Servants hurried in every direction while hurried footsteps echoed across the marble floors. Cloaks appeared. Stable boys ran across the courtyard. Somewhere outside, Seraphine heard the unmistakable whinny of horses being hastily prepared.
She stared at Damien in bewilderment. “Damien?” she asked softly. “What has happened?”
He fastened his gloves with swift, practiced movements but never looked directly at her.
“It is business,” he answered shortly, lifting the heavy riding cloak onto his shoulders. “It cannot wait.”
His tone left no room for further questions. He strode towards the open doorway without another explanation, every movement filled with urgency.
Seraphine instinctively reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his sleeve. “Will you... will you be all right?” she whispered.
For the briefest instant he stopped. He looked down at the hand resting upon his arm, then gently removed it. His expression softened for one fleeting heartbeat before the hard mask returned.
“Do not concern yourself.”
Before she could reply, he turned away and descended the front steps.
Within moments he mounted his waiting horse in one fluid movement. With a sharp command, he urged the animal forward. The horse surged through the gates at a gallop.
Seraphine remained standing in the open doorway long after the thunder of hooves had faded into the distance.
He had not kissed her goodbye. He had not embraced her. He had not even wished her a safe journey.
Drawing a slow, trembling breath, she blinked rapidly against the tears threatening to spill. Somehow, watching him ride away without a backward glance hurt even more than leaving for Scotland ever could.
Will I ever see him again at all?