“Damien.” His name escaped before she could stop herself.
Immediately, he looked far too pleased by her usage of his Christian name. Which only annoyed her further.
“Seraphine,” he returned smoothly.
His eyes dance when saying my name. I crossed that line first, so it is only fair, but why does it affect me so?
“Apologies, Your Grace. I did not mean to…” she said.
“Do not burden yourself,” he said.
She stared at him in disbelief. “Why do you care who I choose as a match?”
For the first time, the Duke hesitated. The pause lasted only a moment, but Seraphine noticed it all the same. Then his gaze settled fully on her, steady and direct enough to make her strangely aware of herself.
“I feel responsible for you,” he said at last.
The answer caught her completely off guard.
“What?” she asked, staring at him.
Damien shrugged one shoulder, though his gaze never left hers. “You are my sister's closest friend,” he said simply.
“That does not make me your responsibility,” Seraphine replied, folding her arms across her chest.
“No,” Damien agreed without hesitation.
A frown creased her brow. “Then why?”
“I cannot stand by and watch you marry an idiot,” he interrupted.
The statement was delivered with such complete sincerity that Seraphine could only stare at him.
“You barely know me,” she pointed out.
Damien's mouth twitched. “And already you've selected three disasters, which is enough for me to know about you.”
Her mouth fell open in outrage. The worst part was that he had a point. An irritating, infuriating point, but a point, nonetheless. She hated that he had noticed her ineptitude. She hated it even more so that she could not immediately argue against it.
Before she could formulate a suitable response, Damien took a step backwards. A faint smile appeared, softening the severity of his features.
“I must leave. I have matters to address back at the house,” he said.
“But you have not given me a real explanation,” Seraphine protested, following him with her eyes.
“That is all you're getting… for now,” Damien replied, sounding entirely untroubled by her frustration.
“Damien.”
He had already begun walking away, but at the sound of his name he glanced back over his shoulder. The smile deepened slightly, as though he found her exasperation supremely entertaining.
Before she could examine his reaction more, the Duke added casually, “Besides, sweetheart, your taste in men is appalling.”
Then he walked away.
Seraphine watched wondering what he truly meant by his words. What sort of man did he think she should marry?
Appalling? I asked you for your hand, did I not?
