Lady Rosaline was married to Damien’s brother, Lord Laurent Harrington.
She looked slowly from Seraphine to Damien, her amusement growing with every passing second.
Heat rushed into Seraphine's cheeks. “There is no scandal,” she insisted, folding her arms as though that alone might make the statement true.
“Not yet,” Rosaline replied.
“There will not be,” Seraphine said, trying, and failing, to sound dignified.
Rosaline tilted her head as though giving the matter sincere consideration. “That depends entirely on how quickly I leave,” she informed her.
To Seraphine's horror, the Duke appeared mildly entertained by the exchange. The faint amusement lurking in his eyes made her want to kick him.
The traitor.
“You are enjoying this,” she accused, directing a glare at her sister.
“Immensely,” Rosaline admitted without the slightest shame, her grin widening.
At that precise moment, Annie let out a delighted squeal at something only she could see. Rosaline glanced down at her and smiled fondly before returning her attention to the two adults standing before her.
“Honestly,” she said, lowering her voice dramatically as though sharing a terrible secret, “if anyone else discovered you lurking in dark corners together, Society would be planning the wedding breakfast before morning.”
“We were not lurking,” Seraphine protested at once, throwing her hands into the air.
Rosaline gave her a look of profound disbelief. “You were standing suspiciously close together,” she pointed out.
“We were having a conversation,” Seraphine replied.
Rosaline's expression grew increasingly skeptical. “With a duke?” she asked.
“Yes,” Seraphine answered through gritted teeth.
“In private?” Rosaline continued.
“Yes,” Seraphine repeated.
“In a garden?”
“Yes.”
Rosaline looked positively delighted by this point. “This grows worse with every answer.”
Beside them, the Duke folded his arms across his chest and watched the sisters with the resigned expression of a man who had realized resistance was futile.
“I assure you, Lady Rosaline, nothing improper occurred.”
“Oh, Your Grace,” Rosaline replied with a grin, “that is exactly what people say before something improper occurs.”
For a brief moment, Seraphine thought the Duke might actually laugh. The amusement lingering in his eyes suggested he was close to doing so. Instead, he merely shook his head, as though both sisters were beyond saving.
Rosaline immediately seized the opportunity, slipping her arm through Seraphine's and tugging her firmly toward the house.
“Come along before the gossips discover you,” she said with exaggerated urgency, casting a meaningful glance between Seraphine and Damien.
Seraphine rolled her eyes but allowed herself to be led away all the same. “I had no idea you were coming to Amberhall. You should have written.”
As they made their way back toward the lantern-lit terrace, where music and laughter drifted through the warm evening air, she found herself glancing over her shoulder.
