Lady Branson's expression softened at once. She leaned forward slightly, studying Seraphine's face with the practiced eye of a woman who had raised daughters. “You look rather pale, my dear.”
Instinctively, Seraphine lifted a hand to her cheek as though she might somehow verify the claim for herself. “I am perfectly well.”
The older woman hummed in a manner that suggested she believed no such thing.
Beside her, Katherine tilted her head. “You have hardly spoken for the last ten minutes.”
“Which is most unlike you,” Hannah added with a teasing smile. “Usually you are far better company than this.”
A reluctant laugh escaped Seraphine. “I shall endeavor to improve.”
“See that you do,” Hannah replied solemnly.
Lady Branson continued to regard her with gentle suspicion. Seraphine suddenly felt the need to escape before any of them asked another question she could not comfortably answer. She carefully placed her cards upon the table and pushed back her chair.
“If you will excuse me,” she said, smoothing her skirts as she rose, “I believe I should like a little fresh air.”
No one objected. In fact, Lady Branson looked faintly relieved. “You should take some.”
“And perhaps avoid thinking so hard,” Hannah advised, pointing a card at her as though issuing a formal command. “The task seems to have exhausted you.”
“It has,” Seraphine admitted with a faint smile.
The ladies laughed, and she used the opportunity to make her escape.
Once outside the parlor, she released a breath she had not realized she had been holding. The corridors felt quieter than before. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating polished floors and elegant paintings. Normally she enjoyed house parties immensely. Today, however, the Society seemed to serve only as a reminder that her time here was nearly finished.
The thought followed her all the way to the terrace. Stepping outside, she immediately welcomed the cool afternoon air. A gentle breeze stirred the flower beds and carried the scent of roses across the gardens.
What am I supposed to do? I cannot marry simply for the sake of marrying. Can I?
Not after hearing Thalia speak of happiness. Not after realizing what she would be sacrificing.
Most frustrating of all, she could not stop comparing every gentleman she met to a certain infuriating Duke. A duke who had refused her proposal. A duke who kissed her one evening and acted perfectly normal the next. A duke she was trying hard not to think about.
No, I must adhere to my original plan. Marry anyone I find appropriate enough and settle down as I should. Love, desire, and happiness should have nothing to do with my decision.
Chapter Fifteen
“Well,” Rosaline said gently as she stepped onto the terrace, joining Seraphine. “I thought I might find you hiding out here.” Her sister smiled warmly and moved to stand beside her. “Are you quite alright?”
Concern softened her features as she studied Seraphine's face. Rosaline had always possessed an irritating talent for noticing things others missed. Even as children, she could somehow detect trouble before Seraphine had admitted it existed. That talent appeared entirely intact.
Seraphine immediately offered a reassuring smile. “I am perfectly fine,” she said as she folded her hands together. “I merely wanted some fresh air.” The excuse sounded weak even to her own ears. She kept her gaze fixed firmly upon the gardens rather than her sister. If she looked directly at Rosaline, she feared the truth might spill out before she could stop it. She had become rather skilled at hiding her worries these past weeks.
“Hm.” Rosaline leaned casually against the stone railing. “And this has nothing whatsoever to do with the Duke of Wexford?”
The question landed with all the subtlety of a cannonball. Her tone remained innocent enough, but amusement danced in her eyes. Clearly, she already suspected the answer. Seraphine felt her heart leap straight into her throat. Of all the subjects she had expected, that was not one of them.
She turned so quickly she nearly tangled herself in her skirts. “The Duke of Wexford?” she repeated in alarm. “Why on earth would you think such a thing?” Her words came out far too quickly. “I hardly know the man. We have exchanged only a handful of conversations. Well, perhaps more than a handful, but certainly not enough to justify such ridiculous conclusions.” The moment she stopped speaking, she realized she had only made herself look guilty.
Rosaline slowly crossed her arms over her chest. “You know,” she remarked thoughtfully, “that reaction is not particularly reassuring.” Her smile widened slightly. “Laurent mentioned something last night to me.” She paused just long enough to make Seraphine nervous. “He said he had noticed his brother paying an unusual amount of attention to you.” Rosaline tilted her head. “After he mentioned it, I realized he was absolutely right.”
Seraphine opened her mouth. Then it closed again. To her horror, she could not think of a single response. Because what was she supposed to say? Damien had refused her marriage proposal? That he had kissed her on a balcony?
That every time he entered a room, she became incapable of sensible thought? None of those comments seemed particularly appropriate.
Rosaline's expression softened immediately. “Ah,” she said quietly. “There it is.” She reached over and gently squeezed Seraphine's hand. “You can tell me, you know.” Her voice was warm and sincere. “Whatever it is.”
