“I’m merely attempting to find whether I have been helpful at all,” he said.
“You have, Your Grace. I thank you for your aid,” she said.
He should have changed the subject. Any sensible man would have done just that. Instead, before caution could intervene, he heard himself say, “So you will marry?”
The single question escaped before he could stop it. Silence settled between them at once. Not an awkward silence, but something far more stressful. Seraphine's eyes widened slightly, and Damien immediately regretted his honesty. For one suspended moment neither of them moved. He watched a delicate blush bloom across her cheeks, coloring her skin a soft shade of pink, and his pulse reacted with alarming enthusiasm.
Then she looked away.
Somehow that proved even worse.
“I believe I should join my sister,” she said stepping away.
“I’ll escort you,” he said but it was no use, she walked a full two steps ahead of him.
He was angry with himself, because the sight of her blushing sent his thoughts spiraling directly back to the balcony. Back to the evening air, the moonlight, and the memory of her standing impossibly close to him. He remembered the softness of her mouth beneath his, the way she had looked at him afterwards, and the impossible effort it had taken not to pull her back into his arms. The recollection struck him with such force that he nearly groaned aloud.
I must stop giving her so much attention. It is wrong. I am no longer helping her find a husband, if anything my attentions have probably chased men away.
Chapter Sixteen
Damien escorted Seraphine back towards the collection of picnic blankets spread across the lawn.
As they approached the blanket, Rosaline looked up from where she sat beneath a parasol with their child in her lap. Beside her sat Laurent, looking entirely too observant for Damien's liking.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Seraphine thanked him politely before settling beside her sister.
Laurent's gaze immediately shifted from Seraphine to Damien. One dark eyebrow rose. Damien felt an irrational desire to throw him into the pond.
Fortunately, Laurent said nothing. Damien appreciated his brother's silence.
“Your Grace,” Rosaline said pleasantly as she adjusted Annie's bonnet.
“Good day,” Damien replied with a short nod.
The child immediately waved a sticky hand at him. Damien stared at her. She stared back. Then she offered him half of a biscuit.
Rosaline laughed. “Annie appears to have something for you.”
Damien looked at the biscuit as though it were a legal document requiring review. “I am honored.”
Seraphine promptly covered a smile. He excused himself before his sanity deteriorated any further.
“If you all will excuse me,” he said.
Moving through the crowd, Damien exchanged greetings with various guests. Most conversations proved harmless enough. Discussions about weather, horses, estates, and investments filled the afternoon. He was halfway through speaking with an elderly Viscount about crop yields when Lord Shelding approached.
“Your Grace,” Lord Shelding greeted with a polite bow, one hand resting against his waistcoat.
“Lord Shelding,” Damien replied with a short inclination of his head.
The gentleman accepted a glass of punch from a passing servant and swirled the contents thoughtfully before taking a sip.
“I was curious how your investments fare these days,” he said, studying Damien over the rim of his glass.
Damien took a measured sip of his own drink before answering.
“They are prospering nicely,” Damien replied.
