His thoughts raced with frightening speed. Someone had wanted him away from Wexford Manor.
Away...
His eyes widened.
Seraphine.
The blood drained from his face.
"God help me," he muttered hoarsely.
This had never been about Lord Pemberley being captured.
I did exactly what my enemy wanted.
He had abandoned Seraphine.
A vicious curse escaped beneath his breath. Fury unlike anything he had ever known surged through him, not at Lord Pemberley, but at himself. He, who prided himself upon seeing three moves ahead, had ridden straight into an obvious trap. He had left the woman he loved defenseless because he had allowed hope to cloud his judgement.
"Idiot," he growled through clenched teeth. "Blasted fool."
He wheeled around and ran for his horse. The stable boy barely had time to release the reins before Damien vaulted into the saddle. Digging his heels into the stallion's flanks, he sent the powerful animal surging into a gallop.
The streets of London blurred past. Pedestrians shouted. Carriages swerved. None of it mattered. One thought echoed relentlessly inside his mind.
Please let me not be too late.
Seraphine sat opposite Rosaline as the carriage rolled steadily along the post road, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels doing little to soothe the heaviness in her heart. The countryside drifted past beyond the window in shades of green and gold,yet she scarcely noticed it. Every mile carried her farther from Wexford Manor and farther from the husband she loved. She rested her gloved hands in her lap, twisting her handkerchief without realizing it. She had imagined marriage would mean finding a home.
Instead, I have lost one.
Rosaline sat with little Annie on her lap. “Laurent sent word this morning,” she explained gently. “He was called away on estate business and asked that we meet him at the King's Stag Inn just beyond London.” She smiled encouragingly. “It happens to be the coaching stop where we must change horses regardless, so the delay is not terribly inconvenient.” Her tone remained cheerful, clearly hoping to distract Seraphine from her melancholy.
Seraphine managed a faint smile that lasted only a heartbeat. “I understand,” she replied softly, lowering her gaze. “Estate matters seldom wait for convenient moments.”
Her thoughts drifted inevitably back to Damien.
Has he already returned from his mysterious errand? Has he noticed I have gone? Or has he merely accepted my departure with the same calm resignation he had shown in the foyer?
The questions chased one another relentlessly until her chest ached with them.
Rosaline leaned back against the squabs and folded her hands. “Scotland shall be a new adventure,” she declared with determined optimism. “Fresh air, mountains, dreadful weather, and your niece insisting upon showing you every frog and sheep she discovers.” She laughed lightly. “Annie considers both equally fascinating.”
Seeing Seraphine's lips twitch despite herself, Rosaline brightened. “There, that is much better. I was beginning to think I had forgotten entirely how to make my sister smile.”
“I fear it may require a miracle,” Seraphine admitted with a weak laugh, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. She gazed out of the carriage window once more. “I simply cannot stop thinking.”
Every road seemed to lead back to Damien. Every silence filled itself with memories of him. She wished desperately that loving him did not hurt quite so much.
Before Rosaline could answer, the carriage lurched violently. The horses whinnied in alarm. The coach ground abruptly to a halt.
“What on earth?” Rosaline gasped, clutching Annie.
Shouts erupted outside. Seraphine hurriedly lifted the leather curtain and looked through the window. Her blood turned to ice.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
Rosaline gripped her arm. “What is it?”
