His refusal only fueled her anger.
“You are impossible,” she said sharply, taking another step closer. “Every answer is no, yet you refuse to tell me the truth.”
“I have already given you the only answer that matters.”
“No, Damien.” Her voice softened unexpectedly as disappointment replaced anger. “You have given me an order.”
He looked back at her.
“I spent years obeying a tyrannical father,” she continued, blinking rapidly. “When I married you, I truly believed those years were behind me.”
Something twisted painfully inside his chest. “You thought wrong,” he replied, forcing out the words even as they tasted like poison.
He watched them wound her.
Every instinct screamed at him to take them back, to gather her into his arms and explain everything. But he could not.
If she knew about Lord Pemberley... if she knew about France... if she knew the dangerous bargains that allowed Wexford Manor to flourish... she would never forgive me.
She shook her head slowly, tears beginning to glisten despite her determination not to cry.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I suppose I did.”
Her disappointment hurt far more than her anger ever could.
“You are becoming him,” she said quietly.
The accusation struck him like a physical blow.
For one unbearable moment he saw his father's face instead of his own. Cold. Reserved. Emotion locked behind endless duty. He remembered his mother's smile fading year after year beneath that icy indifference. He remembered Thalia shrinking into herself until Caspian had rescued her from becoming another casualty of Harrington coldness.
I have not become Seraphine's father, but I have become my own.
“That is exactly how this feels,” Seraphine said, her voice trembling. “You are like my father. You refuse to trust me.”
God help me. She has no idea how much I trust her. It is everyone else I do not trust.
She continued suggesting compromise after compromise. He rejected every one with a curt shake of his head.
“I am your wife!” she cried, tears spilling freely now. “Not something to be locked safely inside a cabinet!”
“And I intend to keep my wife alive!” The words escaped before he could stop them.
Silence descended upon the corridor. Seraphine stared at him. “Alive?” she repeated softly, taking one cautious step closer. “What are you trying to protect me from?”
Damien closed his eyes. He had already said too much.
“What is it?” she whispered. “Please... help me understand.”
He could not. He could not tell her about Augustus. He could not tell her that the silk scarf around her shoulders had come from an illegal shipment across the Channel.
He could not tell her that her husband walked comfortably amongst Dukes by day and negotiated with smugglers by night. If she knew, she might despise him.
Worse… She might leave him. He remained silent.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Something inside him finally shattered.
“I love you,” he said, the confession barely louder than a whisper.
