Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
William paused at the foot of the staircase, turning to look at his new wife. “I shall escort you to your wing.”
Seraphina paused on the step, her hand lingering on the banister. “My wing?”
“Yes,” William replied. “Your wing. The West Wing has been prepared for your personal use. It includes your bedchamber, a private drawing room, dressing quarters, an adjoining sitting room, a fully equipped writing closet, and some other amenities.”
Seraphina did not look relieved; if anything, her brows pulled together in a slight knot. “Well, before we proceed with tours of residential quarters, would you mind taking me to the library first?”
William felt his left eyebrow twitch, a rare, involuntary breach of his usual composure. “The library?”
“Yes.” She turned fully on the step, her expression serious. “I would really like to see the library, please.”
“Why not wait until morning?” William asked, folding his arms across his chest. “The house is vast, the hour is late, and I assumed you would be exhausted from the journey and the... events of the day.”
“I would prefer to know its exact location now,” Seraphina said, taking a step back down toward him. “That way, when I wake in the morning, I shall not need to disturb the domestic staff simply to locate a book. I can navigate there unassisted.”
William stared at her for a long second. “So that you can disappear into it at first light?”
“Precisely,” she replied without a shred of guilt. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“It is not a matter of good or bad, Seraphina,” William said.
“It is simply unconventional. Typically, a new duchess of the estate expresses a desire to acquaint herself with the primary reception rooms, or perhaps review the morning room. She does not usually make a direct line for the archives to lock herself away. I was under the impression you intended to acclimate yourself to the household, and to Alice.”
A subtle flicker of realization passed over Seraphina’s features.
Her expression softened, a momentary shadow of self-reproach crossing her face.
“Ah. Yes. Of course.” She cleared her throat slightly, adjusting the fold of her cloak over her arm.
“I shall certainly attend to Alice and the rest of the household obligations first thing in the morning. That goes without saying. But tonight... I would still like to see the library first.”
She paused, looking up at him with wide eyes that caught him off guard. “I presume I will have access to it? Or are certain sections restricted?”
William nearly scoffed, though he caught himself in time. “You are the Duchess of Norwyn now, Seraphina. Whatever belongs to this estate belongs equally to you now. There are no locked doors against you here, nor will anyone limit what you may or may not read.”
As the words left his mouth, William found himself observing her... the way she was looking at him. The way her eyes seemed to sparkle when she heard there were no limits.
He realized then that his new bride was thoroughly bizarre.
Most women of her standing, the few he had been forced to interact with over the years would be assessing the drapery, calculating the value of the family jewels, or dropping veiled hints about seasonal wardrobes and ball invitations.
Seraphina, on the other hand, stood there on her wedding night, asking for the library.
It was, he had to admit, mildly entertaining. There was something about her honesty that appealed to the part of him that craved order. She said exactly what she thought, even when it was strange or inconvenient.
It was refreshing.
It was also deeply unsettling.
He couldn’t decide whether that kind of openness would make his life easier or simply replace one kind of chaos with another. He had invited her into his carefully ordered world, and now he was wondering if it was a brilliant decision or a spectacular mistake.
For now, she was an unknown, and he intended to keep observing until he understood exactly who she was.
“Very well,” William said, extending his arm slightly to indicate the corridor to the right. “Follow me.”
He led her down the long, high-ceilinged gallery of the east wing, where the portraits of previous Norwyn dukes stared down from frames.
Seraphina did not linger on the paintings, nor did she spare a glance for the silver sconces or the marble busts lined up in the niches. Her focus was entirely forward.
At the end of the hall, William pushed open the double doors and stepped aside.
The Norwyn library was a two-story cavern, lined from floor to ceiling with thousands of volumes.
A sweeping spiral staircase led to the upper gallery, and the unmistakable scent of aged paper, polished wood, and old ink filled the air.
A single fire burned low in the grand stone fireplace, casting a warm glow across the room.
Seraphina stepped into the center of the room and simply stopped.
Her breath hitched softly. She looked up at the shelves, her eyes traveling from the highest ledgers to the lowest folios, taking in the magnitude of the collection.
Then, she turned back to face him.
The guarded, analytical expression she had worn all day disappeared in an instant. A smile spread across her face. It was bright, effortless, and completely it fit her. It transformed her, lighting up her features with such joy that William blinked...repeatedly.
For a moment, his mind struggled to catch up.
The composed, tightly controlled woman who had walked down the aisle of St. George’s was gone. In her place stood someone openly, almost fearlessly, delighted. He hadn’t expected her to change so completely.
“It is extraordinary,” she breathed, her voice dropping into an awed whisper as she looked back up at the shelves. “Simply extraordinary.”
William adjusted the cuffs of his coat, forcing his posture to straighten, though his pulse gave an uncharacteristic, unwelcome thud.
“It serves its purpose,” he said, watching her step further into the room.
Seraphina did not hear him, or if she did, she simply chose to ignore him. She walked down the middle aisle between the tall bookshelves, her skirts rustling softly against the floorboards. Her eyes moved quickly over the gold letters stamped onto the leather spines.
William stayed by the doors, his hands resting behind his back as he observed her.
He was still trying to measure her. Seraphina stopped near the back corner, where the volumes on history and law were kept.
She reached up and pulled a brown book from the shelf.
She blew a light puff of air across the top edge, brushing away a thin layer of dust, and looked down at the title.
“A collection of essays on British law and trade,” she said, turning around to face him. Her voice had lost its wonder and returned to its usual sharp tone. “I did not think a man of your strict habits would keep books like this in his library.”
William crossed his arms over his chest, walking towards her. “Why is that? A man who manages thousands of acres of land must understand the rules of trade and government.”
“Well, understanding the rules is one thing,” Seraphina said, opening the book and flipping through the thick paper pages. “Supporting them without question is another.”
“You read it?” he asked with raised eyebrows.
“Of course.”
William scoffed, closing the gap in the narrow space between two shelves. “That shouldn’t surprise me.”
“This book argues that the law should always protect the rich landowners, no matter how much it hurts the common workers. It says that keeping absolute order is more important than treating people fairly.”
“Because it is,” William said smoothly. “Order is what keeps a country running. If you allow every tenant farmer to question the rules whenever they feel wronged, the entire system collapses. A good leader makes decisions based on facts and numbers, not on feelings.”
Seraphina closed the book with a thud. “That is a very cold way to look at the world, Your Grace. You talk about people as if they are numbers in an account ledger. Human beings do not work like that. You cannot just subtract their emotions and expect them to stay quiet.”
“Emotions are messy, Seraphina,” William replied, tilting his head slightly as he studied her.
“They cause foolish choices. My father made his choices based on emotion and appetite, and that taught me everything I need to know about that subject. Logic and structure are the only things that keep an estate standing.”
“Logic without any human understanding is just cruelty,” she countered, taking a few steps toward him.
“If a landlord raises rents so high that a family cannot buy bread, it does not matter how neat the ledger looks. The family will starve, and eventually, they will fight back. You call that order, but it’s almost as if you are building a fire under a kettle and closing the lid. ”
William let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Where did you learn so much about land reform and trade laws, Seraphina? From reading romantic novels in your drawing room?”
Seraphina straightened her back, her chin coming up immediately. “You must be referring to my sister, Effie. I do not read a lot of romance books. I write for the papers. I know how the world works just as well as you do.”
William did not move, but he kept his eyes fixed on her face. “Yes. How could I possibly forget. E. R. Voce?”
Seraphina went very still. Her hand, resting on the cover of the book, tightened slightly.
“What?” William asked, taking a step forward. “Are you scared I’ll tell someone? Does the thought of that frighten you?”