"Thank you, Mr. James," she said, recovering herself. "I shall have a letter ready for you in ten minutes."
The butler inclined his head. "Very good, Your Grace."
As the door closed behind him, Seraphine sighed and looked around the room once more. She still found it rather extraordinary that everyone now addressed her asYour Grace. Only a fortnight ago she had been Lady Seraphine Fairchild, worrying whether she would soon be packed off to an abbey. Now servants bowed wherever she walked, and an entire study belonged solely to her. It felt like borrowing someone else's life.
Settling herself at the elegant desk, she selected a sheet of thick, creamy parchment and dipped the quill into the ink. After a moment's thought, she began writing to Rosaline.
Dearest Sister,
I apologize as I will not be able to call upon you this day. The reason is very perplexing. I hope that instead you will come to tea this afternoon at Wexford. There are matters of foremost importance I wish to discuss.
Yours, Seraphine
She carefully folded the finished letter, sprinkled drying powder across the fresh ink, and gently tapped away the excess before reaching for the household seal.
The heavy seal bore the magnificent crest of the Duke of Wexford. Seraphine stared at it for a long moment beforepressing it into the warm wax. The impression emerged perfectly, a symbol of the life she had entered so suddenly.
She traced the edges of the seal with one fingertip, her heart twisting painfully. The uncertainty hurt far more than certainty ever could, and as she looked around at the lovely study once again, she realized that confusion could be every bit as heartbreaking as cruelty.
How could Damien deny me the freedom to visit my own sister, yet think of giving me a room so beautiful that it feels like a sanctuary? Is this his way of softening the bars of the cage? Or is there some explanation I simply cannot yet see?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The morning seemed to crawl by with unbearable slowness. Seraphine sat beside the drawing room window at Wexford Manor, pretending to read a volume of poetry while her gaze drifted towards the long drive every few moments. She had never imagined that waiting for her own sister would make her so anxious.
She tried to occupy herself with embroidery, but after stitching the same flower three times she gave up with an exasperated sigh.
Has Rosaline received my letter? Had Laurent already made other plans? Or perhaps Damien had somehow forbidden even this visit.
The thought made her stomach twist unpleasantly. No, Mr. James himself had promised the letter had been dispatched immediately. She simply had to be patient, a virtue that felt dreadfully out of reach.
At last when afternoon came, the sound of carriage wheels echoed across the gravel outside. Seraphine sprang from her chair so quickly that her neglected embroidery tumbled onto the carpet. She hurried to the window and saw Rosaline climbing down from a familiar carriage, her blue traveling pelisse fluttering gently in the breeze. Relief washed over her so swiftly.
“Good heavens,” Rosaline said as she stepped inside, studying her face with concern, “your letter frightened me half to death. I came as soon as it arrived. What has happened?”
Without hesitation the sisters embraced tightly. Rosaline laughed softly as she drew back and rested her hands upon Seraphine's shoulders.
Seraphine attempted a reassuring smile, though it faltered almost immediately.
“Thank you for coming,” she said quietly, guiding Rosaline towards the sofa. “I scarcely knew whom else I could speak to.”
She waited until the footman discreetly closed the door before lowering herself beside her sister.
Rosaline reached across and squeezed her hand encouragingly. “Now,” she said gently, leaning forward, “tell me everything from the beginning. You have never summoned me with such urgency before.” Her expression softened further. “Whatever it is, you need not face it alone.”
The words broke the last of Seraphine's composure. She drew a slow breath before speaking. “Damien has forbidden me from leaving Wexford Manor.” She looked down at her clasped hands. “Damien forbade me from visiting you, for shopping, and even leaving to make local calls.” Even saying the words aloud made them sound absurd.
Rosaline blinked twice in astonishment before sitting upright. “He did what?” she exclaimed, unable to conceal her surprise. She searched Seraphine's face as though expecting her to smile and reveal it was all some elaborate jest. “Surely there has been some misunderstanding.”
“I wish there had,” Seraphine replied with a humorless laugh. “I told him I wished to visit you this morning. He informed me, quite calmly, that I could not.” She lifted her eyes helplessly. “He even said you were welcome to visit me whenever you pleased, but I was not to leave the estate.”
Rosaline frowned thoughtfully. “That is... exceedingly unusual.” She shook her head slowly. “Laurent has never suggested Damien behaved in such a manner.” Then, with a tiny smile, she added, “Although your husband has always possessed the remarkable talent of saying extraordinary things as though they were perfectly sensible.”
Despite herself, Seraphine gave a reluctant smile. “He truly does.” She sighed again. “The worst part is that he would not explain himself. He simply declared that his decision was final and walked away, as though the matter required no furtherdiscussion.” Her disappointment settled heavily upon her chest once more.
Rosaline studied her carefully before speaking again.
“Has Laurent mentioned anything peculiar about Damien recently?” Seraphine asked, hope creeping into her voice. “Anything at all? Some difficulty with estate matters? Political trouble? A family concern? Anything that could explain this matter?” She clasped Rosaline's hand more tightly. “There must be some reason.”
