Whickham paled. "I understand."
"No." Damien fixed him with an icy stare, his expression hard enough to freeze the air between them. "I do not believe you do," he said, his voice low and clipped.
Whickham swallowed once more, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly before he nodded vigorously.
"I understand perfectly, Your Grace," he said, lifting both hands in a placating gesture.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode towards the open front doors. The evening air struck his face the moment he stepped outside. His carriage stood waiting upon the drive, four powerful horses already stamping impatiently against the gravel.
A groom hurried forward to open the carriage door.
"Everything is prepared, Your Grace," the man said with a respectful bow.
Damien gave a curt nod before climbing inside. As the carriage lurched forward and Amberhall Manor slowly disappeared behind him, he leaned back against the squabs and stared through the window into the darkening countryside.
Every mile carried him closer to London, closer to Seraphine, closer to the decision that would alter both of their lives forever. He would marry her. Not because he deserved her. Not because he believed he was capable of making her happy.
But because honor demands it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
"Mind the blue trunk," Seraphine said gently, turning towards two footmen as they lifted it between them.
The following day was grey and still over Donmere House, as though even the heavens had grown reluctant to witness another farewell. Servants hurried through the entrance hall beneath Seraphine's careful direction, carrying trunks and hatboxes towards the waiting carriage while the familiar sounds of the household echoed through the home that had sheltered her since childhood. Every footstep reminded her that she was leaving it forever. Oddly enough, she found that she had already begun mourning the place before she had even crossed its threshold.
She folded her hands to hide their trembling and forced a reassuring smile.
"There are books inside that trunk that I love. I should be very sorry if they were damaged."
The servants bowed at once, while she silently wondered whether those books would ever again sit upon shelves, she could truly call her own.
Her maid, Maria, appeared beside her carrying another parcel, her eyes already suspiciously bright with unshed tears.
"I wish you were not going, Miss," she said softly as she adjusted the ribbon securing the parcel. "The house shall not feel the same without you." Her voice faltered at the end, and Seraphine felt her own resolve weaken for the briefest moment.
"Oh, Maria," Seraphine replied, laying a gentle hand upon the maid's arm. She managed a smile that did not quite reach her eyes before giving the woman's sleeve an affectionate squeeze. "Do not trouble yourself on my account. Westborough Abbey shall make a perfectly respectable home for me, and I daresay I shall become frightfully pious before the year is out." She attempted to laugh, but it sounded painfully hollow even to her own ears.
The words tasted like surrender. Only days earlier she had imagined herself becoming a wife, perhaps even discovering happiness despite the hurried circumstances forced upon her. Instead, every hopeful dream had crumbled beneath a scandal threatening to emerge at any moment, disappointment, and the painful certainty that she had mistaken Damien's growing affection for something deeper than a mere flirtation.
If she entered the Abbey by her own choosing, then at least one decision regarding her future would belong solely to her.
The sound of measured footsteps announced Lord Donmere before he appeared in the hall. William entered with the cheerful satisfaction of a man convinced he had managed every matter precisely as he ought. He rubbed his hands together as he surveyed the preparations, nodding approvingly at the servants bustling about with her belongings. To him, this was merely another household matter being efficiently concluded.
"Yes, yes," William declared with an enthusiastic nod, clasping his hands behind his back. "The Abbey is a very good home indeed. My own sister says as much in every letter she sends me. You shall make fast friends with her there, Seraphine." He smiled broadly, entirely pleased with the comfort he believed he was offering.
Seraphine lowered her eyes for one brief moment before summoning every ounce of politeness within her. "How gracious of you to say so, Lord Donmere," she replied, inclining her head with impeccable courtesy. "I do hope your sister remains in excellent health." Her smile remained perfectly composed, though inwardly she wondered how any brother could consign his own sister to such a life and still speak of it so lightly.
Before William could continue extolling the virtues of abbey life, an enormous pounding shook the front door. Every servant froze. Maria gasped softly. Even William looked startled enough to lose his smile. The thunderous knocking echoed through the entrance hall a second time before Mrs. Pennyworth hurried to answer it.
The housekeeper scarcely had time to open the door before a deep, commanding voice rolled into the hall.
"I must see Lady Seraphine immediately."
The words struck Seraphine like lightning. Her entire body stiffened. Her breath caught painfully in her throat. She knew that voice. She would have recognized it anywhere.
Damien.
Her heart lurched violently against her ribs.
