Page 13 of An Unwanted Bride for the Duke
The music from the terrace had faded until it was little more than a distant murmur. The lanterns appeared farther apart. The laughter of the other guests no longer reached her ears.
A thread of unease tightened in her stomach. She glanced over her shoulder towards the manor and was surprised by how distant it appeared. The glowing windows that had seemed so near only moments ago now looked frustratingly far away.
This is worrisome. Should I be alarmed by this distance? Is this intentional of him?
Slowing her pace, she offered Lord Pemberley a pleasant smile and said, “I ought to return to the others.”
“Why?” he asked, turning towards her with a smile that did not reach his eyes.
“I was enjoying the party,” she replied lightly, already beginning to angle herself back towards the house.
“So am I,” he said.
Something in his voice made every instinct inside her sharpen. The sensation was immediate and familiar. Years spent navigating her father's moods had taught her to recognize danger before it fully revealed itself. She had learned to notice subtle shifts in tone, expression, and posture. Learned when to retreat and when to remain still.
Now those instincts stirred to life.
This is wrong. Very wrong.
Without another word, she turned to leave. A hand shot out and closed around her arm. Hard.
Seraphine froze.
The charming gentleman she had been speaking with moments earlier vanished entirely. The pleasant smile disappeared fromLord Pemberley's face, revealing something colder beneath. Something ugly.
“I know your circumstances,” he said as his fingers tightened around her arm.
Her spine stiffened. “Release me,” she said, keeping her voice steady despite the sudden rush of anger.
Instead of obeying, he tightened his grip further.
“I know your father is dead,” he continued.
“I said release me,” she repeated, attempting to wrench herself free.
“I know you have no fortune worth speaking of.”
The words struck harder than she cared to admit. Not because they were entirely true. But because he believed they made her vulnerable. Anger flared hot and immediate.
“You know very little,” she snapped, lifting her chin.
His smile widened unpleasantly. “Oh, I know enough,” he said as he stepped closer. “No father. No protector. No prospects.”
The smell of wine drifted from his breath. Revulsion curled through her.
“So really, Lady Seraphine,” he continued softly, “I can do whatever I please and you'll remain silent, yes?”
For one stunned moment she simply stared at him.
The audacity. The arrogance. The certainty that I am powerless.
Rage surged through her. She opened her mouth, fully intending to tell him exactly what she thought of him.
“I don't think so.” The deep voice came from behind them. Cold. Sharp. Menacing.
Relief hit her so suddenly she swayed. Lord Pemberley released her arm and spun around. Several feet away stood the Duke of Wexford.
He looked utterly calm. Which was somehow far more frightening than if he had appeared angry. His green eyes revealed everything. For one suspended moment nobody moved.
