Silence descended with astonishing force.
Lord Donmere appeared incapable of speech. His eyes darted from Damien to Seraphine and back again, as though he suspected he had somehow misunderstood every word. Even the servants lingering nervously beyond the open doorway seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.
"Damien..." Seraphine whispered.
The quiet uncertainty in her voice finally drew his full attention away from the Earl. He crossed the room towards her in several measured strides, his anger immediately tempering the moment he reached her. Without hesitation he took her hand in his own, and despite everything that had transpired, she did not pull away.
He gently guided her into the corridor, away from curious ears, before turning to face her fully. For a long moment he simplylooked at her. She seemed exhausted beyond measure, yet there remained that stubborn courage in her eyes which had first captured his admiration. It only strengthened his resolve.
"You will marry me," he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He held her gaze steadily, his thumb unconsciously tightening around her hand. "I am the cause of your reputation standing upon the edge of a knife, and I shall fix it." His expression softened, though determination still dominated every feature. "I will not hear your objections."
Seraphine searched his face, confusion, hurt, and longing, mingling painfully within her expression. Damien saw the questions forming behind her eyes.
Did he love her? Was this merely duty? Could such a marriage ever bring happiness?
He knew he possessed none of the answers she deserved. He only knew that he would never permit her future to be sacrificed because of him.
If keeping her safe required binding himself to the woman he had spent weeks trying not to love, then so be it. He would give her every comfort, every protection, every privilege his title afforded. He would simply deny himself the one thing he desired most. Better that he carried such loneliness than risk becoming the cold, indifferent husband his father had been.
Without allowing either of them another opportunity to speak, Damien released her hand with obvious reluctance. He inclinedhis head once, turned sharply upon his heel, and strode towards the front entrance.
"Return the trunks back inside. Lady Seraphine is staying," he said to Mrs. Pennyworth.
Mrs. Pennyworth turned to Lord Donmere.
"Yes, yes bring them back in of course," the Earl said.
Damien did not look back. He knew that from this moment forward he would strive to not become his father.
I must do it for her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following morning, Donmere House felt far livelier than it had in weeks. Seraphine had scarcely finished her breakfast when another carriage rolled into the drive. She rose instinctively and hurried towards the entrance hall, her heart lifting. Only one person would arrive with such perfect timing.
The front door swung open and Rosaline swept inside, her traveling cloak dusted from the road. The moment she saw Seraphine, her face broke into a radiant smile. Without hesitation she crossed the hall and gathered her sister into a warm embrace.
"There you are," Rosaline said, laughing softly as she held her at arm's length and looked her over. "I was beginning to think you intended to marry without allowing your own sister any involvement."
Seraphine managed to smile as she squeezed Rosaline's hands. "You know? How? And I assure you, I have scarcely had time to think at all."
Rosaline studied her carefully before looping her arm through Seraphine's.
"Laurent and I received a letter at Amberhall from the Duke yesterday evening," she explained as she guided her towards the drawing room. "He informed us that he had proposed to you, so Laurent and I came at once to his London townhouse."
Seraphine nearly laughed at the absurdity of the statement. "Proposed?" she echoed, shaking her head as they entered the room. "I believeannouncedwould be the more accurate description."
Rosaline chuckled as she settled onto the sofa beside her sister. "Yes, that does sound rather like the Duke of Wexford." She tilted her head with unmistakable curiosity. "Still... I cannot pretend I was surprised."
Seraphine blinked. "You were not?"
Rosaline smiled knowingly and folded her gloved hands neatly in her lap. "Is it truly unexpected?" she asked gently. "We all saw how much attention he paid to you throughout the house party."
Seraphine looked down at her hands, suddenly fascinated by the folds of her muslin skirt. "You exaggerate."
"I do nothing of the sort," Rosaline replied, giving her arm an affectionate pat. "I told you when Laurent noticed it first. Then I began watching. Wherever you went, Damien's eyes were never terribly far behind."
Heat crept into Seraphine's cheeks despite herself. She remembered every glance, every argument, every stolen moment in the gardens. At the time she had believed herself foolish to imagine his interest. Now she scarcely knew what to believe. If he had cared for her, why had he spoken only of duty?
