Epilogue
It was Seraphine's first ball as the Duchess of Wexford, and despite the hundreds of guests surrounding her, she felt strangely calm. She was entering this ballroom not as a frightened young lady searching desperately for a husband, but as a wife secure beside the man she loved.
She had expected whispers when she entered upon Damien's arm, yet the smiles she received were warm, the curtsies respectful, and the congratulations sincere. It seemed thetonhad accepted them without question.
Perhaps the dreadful chapter surrounding Lord Pemberley has finally been closed.
"I believe," Thalia said as she joined Seraphine near one of the towering windows, accepting a glass of lemonade from a passing footman, "this may be the loveliest ball Lady Branson has ever hosted."
Seraphine smiled as she surveyed the ballroom once more. "It is magnificent." She gestured towards the towering floral arrangements decorating the corners of the room. "Those white roses alone must have emptied half the conservatories in England."
Thalia laughed, lifting her glass. "Lady Branson has always believed moderation to be terribly dull. I find I rather agree with her."
"You would," Seraphine replied, laughing softly as she glanced at her friend.
"I distinctly remember someone who insisted upon rearranging every flower upon my wedding morning," she added, turning towards Thalia with a teasing look.
Thalia placed a hand dramatically upon her chest. "They were crooked," she declared, drawing herself up with mock offence.
"They were not," Seraphine said at once, her smile widening.
"They most certainly were."
"You merely wished to make yourself useful," Seraphine replied, folding her fan with deliberate care.
"I wished to prevent a floral catastrophe," Thalia said, lifting her chin with theatrical dignity.
Seraphine shook her head with amusement. "I had forgotten how wonderfully dramatic you could be," she said, her eyes bright with laughter.
"My dear," Thalia replied with exaggerated dignity, "one does not survive growing up with Damien without developing a flair for theatrics."
Seraphine smiled at the remark. She had learned much about Damien's childhood these past weeks, and every new story made her admire him more. Beneath his stern reserve had lived a lonely young man determined never to resemble his father. She wished she could reach backwards through time and assure that solemn boy that happiness would eventually find him. The thought made her heart ache with tenderness.
Before she could answer, two familiar gentlemen approached through the crowd, Damien and Benedict, both bowing with impeccable grace.
"Ladies," the Duke of Norwitch said, offering one of his dazzling smiles, "you appear to have stolen all the beauty from the ballroom."
Thalia rolled her eyes. "You rehearse these compliments before leaving home, do you not?" Thalia asked, arching one brow as she lifted her glass.
Benedict placed a hand over his heart with theatrical offence. "I never rehearse perfection," he replied, his smile widening.
Thalia turned to Seraphine with a dry little huff. "You see?" she muttered, shaking her head. "Hopeless."
Seraphine laughed, Benedict looking delighted that someone appreciated his humor, while Damien merely watched his friend with long-suffering patience before turning towards his wife.
"I was searching for you," he said quietly, his gaze settling on her with unmistakable relief.
"I had not wandered very far," she replied, lifting her glass slightly as though to prove the point.
"I notice that now," he said, his mouth curving faintly as he stepped closer.
There was something different about his expression; his usual composure remained, yet she recognized the faint tightening around his eyes, and knew at once that he had news, her fingers instinctively curling around the stem of her glass.
"What is it?" she asked softly.
Damien exchanged a brief glance with Benedict before looking back at her. "We have just received word."
Her breath caught, and old fears stirred before she could stop them; for one terrifying instant she imagined Augustus had somehow escaped, and she looked at Damien anxiously.
