Page 43 of An Unwanted Bride for the Duke
“I was going to ask why do you not take a wife, a duchess to manage those gardens of Wexford Manor and so forth…” Caspian raised a brow. “Then I was to find out who you might be courting if anyone.”
Damien shook his head. “Of course my sister wants to know such things. Well you may inform her that I court no one.”
“I see,” Caspian said.
“As for the matter of a duchess… I do not plan on marrying. It will be up to my brother to carry on the Wexford name for I will not be having children either,” Damien said.
Caspian froze in place. “No marriage. No children. What has brought on such an unnatural notion? All men seek marriage and legacy. Especially men of our station,” he said.
“My reasons are my own. You may report back to my sister that you tried your best. But now, if you will excuse me…” he said.
Damien brushed past Caspian and entered the house. His mood had darkened.
My sister is meddling in what she should not be meddling in. I have no intention of marrying. She of all people should know that I am more like my father than I wish to be and that is reason enough to never subject a wife to that kind of treatment.
As he made his way upstairs, he paused at a window. Down below in the gardens, Seraphine laughed at something that Everend said. It felt like a blow to his gut.
Good. She should be happy. She deserves it. But I cannot be the one to give it to her.
Later that evening, before dinner was announced, the guests gathered in Amberhall Manor's drawing room. Conversation drifted through the elegant space while servants moved quietly amongst the guests, carrying trays of wine and lemonade. The atmosphere was far less formal, allowing people to mingle freely before the meal.
Seraphine stood near one of the tall windows, observing the room with careful attention.
If I am to find a husband, I cannot afford to waste opportunities. One month is slipping away far too quickly. But is this truly what I want? I am so confused.
She smoothed a hand over her skirts and scanned the gentlemen scattered throughout the room. Lord Shelding was currently discussing crop yields with an elderly baron. Lord Cunningham appeared trapped by Lady Branson and her two daughters. Lord Everend was nowhere to be seen. Her gaze eventually landed upon another gentleman she vaguely knew.
Lord Nathanson stood near the fireplace, handsome enough, reasonably young, and currently laughing at something another guest had said. Seraphine drew a quiet breath. There was no reason not to move in that direction.
Determined, she began crossing the room. Yet the closer she came, the more uncertain she felt. The gentleman's smile seemed pleasant enough, but what did that truly mean? Her father had smiled in public. Her father had charmed people. Her father had hidden his cruelty behind good manners and a noble title. The memory caused her steps to falter.
Seraphine stopped entirely.
A strange feeling settled in her stomach. Lord Nathanson had done nothing wrong. He had not even spoken to her. Yet uncertainty rooted her firmly in place.
What if I choose poorly? What if I find myself trapped with a husband who appeared respectable to Society but proved far worse behind closed doors? Is that worse than the abbey?
The thought chilled her despite the warmth of the room. Then she looked up to see that Damien was watching her. Her breath hitched at the sight. Without another thought, she turned away.
She wandered toward a nearby painting and pretended great interest in the landscape depicted there. It was a rather ordinary painting of a river and some sheep.
Seraphine stared at it as though it was the most interesting painting she had ever seen. Anything was preferable to admitting she had lost her nerve. She folded her hands neatly and focused on looking occupied.
She knew that Damien was nearby because she heard Thalia address him.
“Is that a smile I see on my brother's face?” she asked.
“I believe you are mistaken, sister. You should consult a physician regarding your eyesight.”
Thalia laughed. “My eyesight is perfectly adequate,” Thalia said.
Seraphine continued to listen while admiring the painting, pretending not to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, Damien soon appeared beside her.
He glanced at the painting thoughtfully, tilting his head as though conducting a serious artistic evaluation. “Remarkable.”
“It is a good painting,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the canvas.
“It is certainly one of the best paintings ever created,” he replied.
