"What are you doing here?" he asked, slipping his hands behind his back as though he were conducting a formal interrogation rather than greeting a guest.
The question was so blunt that her indignation immediately returned.
“I could ask the same of you,” she replied, lifting her chin as she met his gaze.
One dark eyebrow rose. “Thalia is my sister,” he reminded her, his tone suggesting this should have been painfully obvious.
“Ah yes,” Seraphine said with exaggerated thoughtfulness as she clasped her hands before her. “I had nearly forgotten.”
The Duke folded his arms across his chest. “Something you did not forget a few nights ago,” he added dryly.
Do not dare speak of my foolish proposal.
Seraphine bit back a smile. “She happens to be my best friend,” she informed him, gesturing towards the house behind them.
“And therefore, you were invited,” he concluded.
“I was. She came to Donmere House to invite me herself,” she confirmed with satisfaction.
The Duke nodded thoughtfully, though there was a suspicious glint in his eyes. “I was invited via a letter,” he said flatly.
For a moment Seraphine simply stared at him. Then a grin escaped before she could stop it.
“How formal,” she observed, her smile growing wider.
“Apparently my sister felt it necessary,” he said, sounding faintly aggrieved by the fact.
Seraphine's smile widened triumphantly. For some reason she found the image of the formidable Duke of Wexford receiving a formal invitation to his own sister's house deeply amusing.
The Duke noticed her amusement immediately and narrowed his eyes.
“You seem pleased by this,” he observed, watching her far too closely.
“I am,” Seraphine admitted, unable to suppress her grin.
“Why?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as though genuinely curious.
“Because for once I appear to have outranked a duke.” To her astonishment, the corner of his mouth twitched.
Not quite a smile. But close. The sight unsettled her far more than his scowling ever had because it made her heart leap. Shequickly looked away. There was something profoundly unfair about a man becoming more attractive when he almost smiled.
Damien tilted his head slightly as he regarded her, his expression settling into dry resignation.
“I would not become too comfortable with the achievement,” he said.
Seraphine clasped her hands behind her back and lifted her chin. “I intend to treasure it forever,” she informed him with a bright smile that was deliberately provoking.
A faint look of long-suffering crossed his face. “I was afraid of that,” he replied, rubbing a hand across his jaw.
The exchange should not have felt so natural. Yet somehow it did. Most gentlemen inspired her polite manners and carefully measured responses. The Duke inspired quite the opposite. Around him, she became argumentative. Defiant. Entirely too willing to challenge him simply because he expected her not to. It was a side of herself she rarely revealed.
Certainly not while in polite Society. Perhaps it is because he irritates me so thoroughly.
The Duke’s gaze lingered on her face for a moment longer than necessary. The trace of amusement disappeared from his features, and something in the atmosphere shifted. The easyhumor between them faded, replaced by a tension she could not quite name.
He took a slow step closer. “Since we're discussing proper invitations,” he said, his voice lowering slightly as he looked down at her, “perhaps we should discuss proper behavior.”
Seraphine immediately frowned at him. “My behavior is perfectly proper,” she declared, planting her hands firmly on her hips.
