They exchanged one last grateful smile before returning together to the cheerful bustle of the wedding breakfast.
Later, as the musicians struck up another lively tune and guests drifted between the drawing room and the terrace, Seraphine found herself beside Lady Kane near one of the library doors. Lady Kane regarded her fondly before reaching to straighten the white silk scarf at her shoulders.
"It suits you beautifully," she observed. Seraphine smiled.
"My husband asked me to wear it."
Lady Kane nodded approvingly. "A thoughtful gesture."
For a moment Seraphine hesitated before lowering her voice. "May I confess something rather embarrassing?"
Lady Kane's eyes twinkled kindly. "My dear, weddings encourage embarrassing confessions. Proceed."
Seraphine laughed softly, twisting her wedding ring upon her finger. "Everything feels so... new. I scarcely know what to expect of married life."
Lady Kane's smile softened into one of quiet understanding.
"You need not possess every answer on your first day as a wife," Lady Kane replied gently, laying a reassuring hand upon Seraphine's arm. "Marriage unfolds one day at a time. Be patient with yourself and allow your husband the same grace. Trust is built through countless ordinary moments as much as extraordinary ones."
Seraphine absorbed the words thoughtfully.
Ordinary moments.
Somehow that prospect comforted her more than any grand declaration ever could.
As Lady Kane was called away by her husband, Seraphine remained standing beside the window for a moment.
Her gaze drifted instinctively towards Damien across the room. He was now her husband and a flutter of anxiousness moved through her as she realized…
And tonight is the wedding night.
That night, Seraphine stood before the looking glass as the Duchess of Wexford. She scarcely recognized the young woman staring back at her. The candlelight softened every edge of the elegant room, casting a warm glow over the delicate ivory nightdress Rosaline had insisted upon purchasing.
It was finer than anything Seraphine had ever owned, trimmed with lace, and tied neatly with pale ribbons. She smoothed trembling hands over the fabric and drew a slow breath, reminding herself that she was now a married woman.
And I must perform my wifely duties.
She had imagined this moment countless times over the past two days, not the wedding itself, but the waiting afterwards.
As a proper wife, she remained seated upon the edge of the great four-poster bed, her hands folded carefully in her lap. Everycreak of the old house made her glance towards the door. Every passing minute stretched longer than the last.
He will come. Surely, he will.
An hour slipped by, the fire crackled softly, the candles burned lower, and still Damien did not appear.
Where is he? Should I go to him?
Seraphine stared at the untouched cup of tea resting beside the hearth and felt disappointment slowly settle inside her chest. Their marriage had been born from duty rather than courtship; she understood that well enough. Yet she could not reconcile the man who had kissed her with such fierce conviction in the storage room with the husband who had seemingly forgotten she existed.
Her brows knitted together.
What is he thinking? Has he already regretted marrying me?
The thought stung far more than she wished to admit.
"No," she murmured aloud, pushing herself to her feet. "I refuse to spend my first night as a wife wondering."
Her chin lifted with growing determination. If the Duke of Wexford intended to avoid her, he could at least explain himself.
