Damien would be meeting Benedict to request his assistance in handling Lord Pemberley. The fact that his own actions had now put Seraphine in danger made his mood darken.
I cannot bear anything happening to her. She must stay in this house until this threat is quelled.
The breakfast-room door opened quietly, drawing him from his thoughts. Seraphine stepped inside wearing a pale blue morning gown that suited her, and the instant their eyes met, a delicate blush rose across her cheeks before she lowered her gaze. Damien felt something tighten inside him.
She remembers the previous evening just as vividly as I do.
He forced his expression back into its customary calm before she could notice the effect she had upon him.
"Good morning," Seraphine said softly as she crossed the room, smoothing her skirts before taking her seat opposite him. She offered him a tentative smile, though there was a shyness about her that had not existed only days before.
"Good morning, Duchess," Damien replied, inclining his head as though nothing whatsoever had changed between them. "I trust you slept well."
"Duchess...I am not used to hearing that," she said. "I slept reasonably well," she answered, reaching for the teapot. She poured herself a cup before glancing towards him again. "I hope that you did as well."
"I managed," he said evenly, though the lie tasted bitter. In truth, he had scarcely slept at all.
For several minutes they ate in comfortable silence, interrupted only by the quiet clink of silver against china. Damien foundhimself watching her when she was not looking, noting the loose curl that had escaped beside her temple and the thoughtful way she stirred her tea. He immediately chastised himself. Every stolen glance only strengthened the attachment he had sworn to suppress.
At length, Seraphine folded her napkin neatly beside her plate and looked towards him. "I wished to let you know that I shall be visiting Rosaline this afternoon," she said pleasantly. "I promised I would call upon her."
Damien's hand stilled upon his cup. Every instinct within him rebelled against the idea of her carriage leaving Wexford Manor while Lord Pemberley was out there.
"No," he said bluntly.
She blinked before letting out a small laugh, believing she had misunderstood him. "I beg your pardon?"
"You will not be visiting her," he said, meeting her gaze without wavering.
Her smile disappeared. "Whatever do you mean I shall not? She is my sister."
"Then your sister may visit you here," Damien replied evenly. "You are not to leave the estate."
Seraphine stared at him for a long moment, genuine confusion replacing her amusement. She rose slowly from her chair, resting her fingertips upon the table as she searched his face. "Damien," she said carefully, "surely you are not serious."
"I am entirely serious."
She shook her head in disbelief. "You cannot simply forbid me from visiting my own family…or leaving the estate." Her voice remained impeccably polite, yet disappointment trembled beneath every word.
"It is not a matter for discussion," he answered, keeping his tone measured despite the conflict raging within him. "If Rosaline wishes to see you, she shall be welcomed here for as long as she likes along with my brother and the children."
Seraphine drew a slow breath, clearly fighting to maintain her composure.
"You cannot do this," she said quietly, clasping her hands together before her. "I spent years being managed by a father who believed every decision belonged to him. Every walk, every visit, every choice required his approval."
She swallowed before continuing, her eyes glistening despite her determined dignity. "I truly believed you were different."
Each word struck Damien with devastating force. Every instinct urged him to stand, cross the room, and explain everything,to tell her Lord Pemberley had threatened her, that dangerous men now watched from the shadows, and that leaving the house might place her directly in harm's way.
Yet revealing the truth would also reveal the secret life he had concealed for years, the trade, the bargains, the underworld connections that had allowed him to garner abundant wealth. No gentleman ever spoke of it aloud. It was in fact a crime against the crown.
What would she think if she discovered that I, the Duke of Wexford, maintained dealings with smugglers, thieves, and men whose names never appeared in Society columns? She would look at me differently. Worse still, she might fear me.
The possibility settled like lead in his stomach. Better she believed him cruel. Better she despised him. Hatred could be repaired.
A bullet, or a knife, could not. She could be put in prison for being complicit if she knew of my crimes. No, the less she knows the better. To protect her.
"My decision is final," Damien said at last, forcing every trace of emotion from his voice.
