19. Defeated and Defenceless #2
Dorian frowned. For a moment, it sounded like she was going to say it’s a shame you never got to meet her, which was strange, because Selene’s grandmother was currently alive in this timeline. Did she mean it’s a shame that he never met her before she retired to Nocturne Hall?
Selene recovered quickly. “It’s a shame you’ve never met her,” she corrected, and then added, “I’d like to visit her. My grandmother. She was the only one to congratulate me on our marriage and…”
“You miss her,” he said simply.
Selene nodded. “It’s been a long time.”
Dorian hesitated. He already knew a great deal about the area and the mountains (he must have spent years there, collectively, mapping it out) but he did have to admit that he thought the house might hold some secrets that Selene had been unable to discover in her past life.
He’d love to see the library. She’d stolen books for him to read, but he’d never had full access.
“I’m sure I could free up some time,” he told her.
Selene blinked at him. “You’d come with me?”
“Of course. It would look strange if I abandoned my new bride, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re right.”
Before she could say more, an itch crawled up Dorian’s nose. He barely had time to turn away before he sneezed. Once. Twice. The telltale burn lingered behind his eyes.
Selene studied him, her brow creased with concern. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Dorian muttered, pulling out a handkerchief. “It’s probably just dust.”
“But this room is spotless…”
From behind the curtain, a soft meow sounded. Dorian went rigid.
Selene clapped a hand over her mouth. “The cat!” she gasped. “You’re allergic to cats!”
Dorian sneezed again. “I may have a slight allergy—”
“Why on earth would you let me bring a cat when you’re allergic—”
“What kind of ass would make you leave behind a beloved pet? ”
The words came out sharper than he intended, making Selene flinch. He realised that the Duke had made her leave her cat behind. Had she already had that talk with him before they became engaged, or was it the tone of Dorian’s voice that had startled her?
“You should have told me…” she murmured, guilt creeping into her voice. “Oh, no wonder you looked so ill in the carriage! I’m so sorry—”
“It’s fine,” Dorian said, though the sneezing fit that followed rather undermined his point.
“Why would you suggest we play up here?” Selene asked.
Dorian leaned against the table, arms folded. “I thought you’d be more comfortable.”
Selene groaned. “Who would be comfortable making someone else uncomfortable?”
It’s a testament to Selene’s character that she thinks that makes a difference. “I actually think quite a few people—”
“Get out,” she said.
Dorian stood abruptly, more out of surprise than anything else, and marched through the door. He’d never heard her be so short with anyone. Well, not since she was a child and Reginald Fairmont stepped on her gown during dance practice.
She used to have a bit more bite to her, actually. When had that changed?
Selene gathered up the board and followed him into his room.
“What are we—” he began.
“I’m not letting you sit in there a moment longer,” she informed him, striding into the space. She set the board down with finality, then turned back to him with narrowed eyes. “In fact, I may forbid you from ever entering my chambers again.”
Dorian smiled. He couldn’t help it. She was sweet when she cared, sweet when she was fierce.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m quite used to women bossing me around,” he admitted. “But I find I prefer it much more when you do it.”
Selene’s cheeks darkened. “Sit down,” she said, though her voice lacked its previous authority. She pointed towards the seats, and Dorian slid into place, finding that his headache had already begun to ease.
Selene disappeared for a moment, then returned with the wine. When she handed him his glass, her fingers brushed against his. It was brief—barely worth noticing, yet he did. And judging by the way she hesitated before sitting across from him, so did she.
They resumed the game.
“Please don’t make yourself uncomfortable on my behalf,” Selene said softly. “I already feel guilty enough for being here.”
Dorian tilted his head. “If I have ever made you feel like a burden—”
“No, not you—”
“Has Soren said something?” Dorian asked. He was the only one of the family who’d been less than polite. “Don’t listen to him—”
“No, he’s said nothing, I just… I’m very aware of how little I contribute compared to other members of your household, and…”
Dorian groaned. “Please, don’t worry about that. You don’t have to contribute anything. Just… I’m glad that I was able to help you, all right?”
You have no idea how glad I am about that.
Selene swallowed, staring at the board. “You don’t know me. Or at least… you didn’t.”
But he did know her. He knew her better than anyone.
And once upon a time, he thought she might have been the same way about him.
He met her gaze, and in the lamplight, her eyes shone like polished gold. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her look at him like that before—like she was trying to see him, properly, for the first time.
Except, it wasn’t the first time at all.
“I wouldn’t have been happy,” he said finally, “watching you be forced into a marriage with someone who was cruel to you.”
“You wouldn’t have known.”
Dorian exhaled. But he had known. He had known, and he had watched it. He had watched the light drain out of her so many times. He was the only one who would have known.
But how could he explain that?
“I’m sorry,” he said at last.
Selene frowned. “What for?”
“I am sorry that you’ve spent any part of your life thinking that people wouldn’t notice if you were breaking.”
Selene stilled.
Dorian knew the expression she wore. That careful, practiced stillness, as if movement might shatter something fragile inside her. He had worn it himself, once.
Then, to his surprise, she whispered, “I’m sorry too.”
Dorian’s breath caught. “For what?”
“For whatever has made you feel like you need to do everything alone.”
The words landed like a blade slipping between his already bruised ribs. How could she know that about him already?
Dorian clenched his fingers against his knee. He wondered what she would do if he reached across the table and took her hand. He wondered if he wanted her to. If he wanted to let himself have that. Even for just a moment.
But everything was so solemn and so serious, and weren’t they supposed to be having fun? The weight of it all pressed down, thick as fog, suffocating—
“And I’m sorry for this, too,” she said, playing her final card and winning the game.
Dorian laughed, startled by the unexpected move. He threw up his hand. “See?” he said. “You can be smart.”
“I am sure it is just luck,” Selene replied smoothly.
“Heavens!” Dorian groaned, not entirely sure why his temper was fraying.
He huffed a tired breath. He was exhausted.
He couldn’t sit comfortably, and yet, despite it all, being here with Selene was all he desired.
He just wanted one moment to be perfect.
For her to see herself the way he did, for her not to have to downplay herself and make herself small on someone else’s behalf. “Just take the compliment!”
Selene froze, like a deer in a hunter’s sights. He realised, too late, how sharp his words had sounded .
“Sorry,” he murmured, looking away. “That was… unnecessary. I didn’t mean to… Sorry.”
Selene hesitated. “I didn’t know you could be short with anyone.”
“Everyone has their limits.” He ran a hand down his face, exhaustion settling into his bones. “I’m tired,” he admitted, standing and finishing the last of his wine. “This has been really nice, but I am exhausted now, and would like some rest.”
Selene rose as well. “Of course.”
“I truly am sorry,” he said. Then, softer, “And—thank you.”
Selene offered him a small smile. “You’re welcome.”