Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
The journey home passed in a weary haze, every mile placing more distance between them and the terror of the roadside ambush.
The familiar stone facade of the manor had never looked so welcoming to Seraphine.
Even the sight of the servants bustling through the entrance hall with quiet efficiency brought unexpected comfort.
It was a relief to breathe without looking over her shoulder.
Now she sat beside Rosaline and Annie upon one of the upholstered settees in the parlor, both wrapped in warm blankets despite the summer air.
A cheerful fire crackled softly in the grate, more for comfort than warmth.
A tray of tea had been brought in untouched, neither lady possessing much appetite after the ordeal.
Though the physician had declared them all merely shaken, Seraphine still felt as though her heart had not quite remembered its proper rhythm.
The parlor door opened. Damien stepped inside, his riding clothes still dusted from the road, though he had clearly paused long enough to wash the blood from his hands and face. His expression remained solemn, yet the moment his eyes found Seraphine, some of the strain left his features.
"I have had a note sent to Laurent," he said as he crossed the room. His voice was calm again, though fatigue lingered beneath it. "He shall come to Wexford as soon as he receives it."
Rosaline released a long breath she had been holding and rested one hand against her chest.
"Oh, thank goodness," she murmured, managing a tired smile. Silence settled for a brief moment before Rosaline rubbed her temples.
"It has been a trying day," she admitted quietly. "I believe I have lived through enough excitement to satisfy me for the next twenty years."
Seraphine reached across and gently squeezed her sister's hand.
"I quite agree," she said with a soft smile. "Why do you not take one of the bedchambers upstairs? Call for a hot bath, a fresh gown, and several hours of uninterrupted sleep. You and Annie deserve all three."
Rosaline looked at her fondly. "And leave you?"
"I shall be perfectly well."
Rosaline searched her sister's face for a long moment before giving a reluctant nod. "I suppose I shall take your advice for once."
Seraphine laughed quietly. "There is a sentence I never expected to hear."
Rosaline rolled her eyes with affectionate amusement. "Do not become accustomed to it."
Both sisters smiled, the familiar exchange easing some of the heaviness that had settled over the room.
Rosaline rose from the settee, smoothing her traveling gown before stepping forward. Without another word, she wrapped Seraphine in a tight embrace.
"I am so thankful you are safe," she whispered.
Seraphine closed her eyes, returning the embrace just as fiercely. "So am I."
Rosaline pulled back, brushing away a lingering tear before glancing towards Damien. "You brought my sister home."
"I merely corrected my own mistake," Damien answered quietly.
Rosaline studied him for a moment before offering him a grateful nod. "Even so... thank you, Your Grace."
Damien inclined his head respectfully. "It was my duty."
Rosaline smiled knowingly but wisely chose not to argue. Instead, she gave Seraphine's shoulder one final reassuring squeeze. "I shall see you in the morning."
"I shall expect you well rested," Seraphine replied.
"I make no promises. Come along, Annie." With that, Rosaline allowed one of the maids waiting outside the parlor to escort her and Annie upstairs.
The door closed softly behind them. Then, Seraphine and Damien were finally alone.
Without a word, he crossed the room in three determined strides and lowered himself beside her on the settee.
His posture remained rigid, his shoulders still tense from hours spent in the saddle, yet his eyes softened as they searched her face with painstaking care.
His gaze traveled from the faint redness around her eyes to her hands, then to the sleeve of her gown as though expecting to discover injuries everyone else had somehow overlooked.
"Are you quite certain you are unhurt?" he asked quietly. "The physician assured me you suffered nothing more than a few bruises, but I would hear it from you, not from someone else."
Seraphine studied him for a moment before offering a small, reassuring smile. Although tears still shimmered faintly in her eyes, there was warmth there too.
"I am quite well," she answered softly.
Damien was not satisfied. He reached for one of her hands, turning it carefully in his own as though inspecting the delicate fingers for hidden injuries. His thumb brushed gently across her knuckles before he looked back into her eyes. "No bruises upon your arms?"
She gave a tiny shake of her head. "No."
"Nothing struck your head when you fell?" he asked gently.
"No." She let out the faintest laugh before placing her free hand over his, stilling his relentless inspection.
Damien looked at her again, and the weight of the day returned to his face.
Without warning, he leaned forward and drew her into his arms. His embrace was firm, almost desperate, as though letting go might somehow allow her to vanish again.
One hand cradled the back of her head while the other held her tightly against his chest. Seraphine heard the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath his waistcoat.
It was racing almost as wildly as her own.
"I am sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "God forgive me, Seraphine..." His voice broke under the strain. "I am so terribly sorry."
She slowly wrapped both arms around him in return. "You have nothing to…"
"I failed you." The words emerged with quiet conviction.
She pulled back just enough to see his face. "No."
He shut his eyes briefly before continuing. "You were my responsibility, and I abandoned you to a man who wished us both harm." His voice had become rough with self-reproach.
"Had I stopped to think for one moment instead of allowing my temper to rule me..."
Seraphine gently lifted one hand to his face. Her fingertips rested lightly against his cheek until he reluctantly met her eyes.
"These past few days," she said, "when I was angry with you...
when I could not understand why you had changed...
" She gave a tiny shake of her head. "Part of me still knew something was wrong.
You were not yourself. You carried something alone.
" She sighed softly. "But you should have trusted me enough to tell me about Lord Pemberley. "
For several moments he simply stared into the fire. Finally, he nodded once. "You are right."
The admission seemed to cost him dearly. He rose from the settee and slowly crossed towards the hearth, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared into the dancing flames. His shoulders seemed heavier than she had ever seen them. "There is something more you deserve to know," he said quietly.
Seraphine remained seated, watching him patiently.
He drew a long breath. "Augustus cornered me at our wedding, he threatened to expose certain... dealings of mine."
Her brow furrowed. "What dealings?"
Damien hesitated. His fingers curled tightly together behind his back. Finally he turned to face her. "I have been trading in French silk."
Seraphine blinked in surprise. "French silk?"
He inclined his head. "It has been smuggled into England through discreet channels."
Her eyes widened. "The scarf..."
"Lord Pemberley recognized the silk immediately. He realized where it must have come from." His jaw tightened. "He threatened to expose me and, when I refused to be intimidated, he vowed to exact his revenge through you."
Seraphine watched him quietly.
"I believed," he continued, "that if I kept you inside Wexford Manor, I could protect you until I dealt with him.
" He stopped pacing. "Instead, I drove you away.
" Pain crossed his face. "And by leaving the house today...
" He closed his eyes briefly. "I gave Augustus precisely the opportunity he wanted.
" His shoulders sagged with the weight of the admission.
"I was wrong." He looked back at her. "But I make this promise to you now, my trade is finished. "
She tilted her head. "Finished?"
"I shall close every route. Every shipment. Every arrangement." His voice became firm with conviction. "No profit is worth risking you. No bolt of silk is worth placing our family in danger because of my mistakes."
Seraphine rose and walked towards him. She reached for both of his hands. "You should have told me, Damien."
He looked almost ashamed. "I know."
She smiled gently. "I would not have loved you any less."
He froze. "You... would not?"
She shook her head. "No." Her fingers tightened around his. "I married a man, not a saint."
A surprised laugh escaped him.
"And besides," she added with a teasing smile, "I have become rather fond of your dreadful habit of rescuing me."
His eyes softened. "You accept me?"
"I accept all of you."
Emotion filled his expression. "Even the foolish parts?"
"Especially the foolish parts."
He gave a quiet, disbelieving shake of his head. "I do not deserve you."
"Perhaps not," she replied with gentle humor. "But you have me nonetheless."
For a heartbeat he simply looked at her.
Then a warm smile spread across his face.
"Thank you," he said softly. "For seeing the man behind all my mistakes." He lifted one of her hands and pressed a tender kiss against her knuckles. "I love you, Seraphine."
Her heart swelled. "I love you."
Without another word, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms. Seraphine laughed in surprise, instinctively wrapping one arm around his neck.
"Damien! I am perfectly capable of walking."
"I am aware." He arched a brow at her.
"Then why carry me?" she asked.
"Because I have spent far too many days keeping my distance from my wife."
Her heart fluttered. "As you wish, Your Grace."