Tristan had thought the first real conversation he would have with Seraphina’s father would be under very different circumstances.
“Alright, I understand — let us find …”
For a moment, he forgot himself. Lord Reginald Blackwood stood to the opposite side of the door, watching Tristan’s every move. He wore a smug expression that could only be classified as triumphant. Just what did he have to be so happy about? Did he take pleasure in possibly ruining an innocent woman’s life? Was he still so horribly broken up about his own scandals that he needed to make all those around him just as miserable as he was?
Something inside of Tristan seemed to snap. He could feel it pull taut — the control over himself thinned and strained until it simply broke into pieces.
His gaze narrowed, face hot with indignation as he willed the wrath inside him to only be aimed at one person, and one person only. His teeth ground together bitterly as he started towards that terrible soul. If his reputation was already going to be damned, then he might as well give into it full tilt. It would be the very least he could do to avenge even some of the damage done to Seraphina’s honour. He did not care how much of a scene it would make, either.
Michael’s hand alone would not be quite strong enough to stop him, but the sight of Seraphina and her mother slowly entering brought him up cold, ice replacing the veins in his neck as he watched, helpless, as Seraphina had to face the instant disdain of a ballroom full of people.
Chapter 27
Seraphina could not remember the last time she had gotten into an actual fight with her mother. Not that she considered their argument a true fight necessarily, but it was certainly closer to one than she would have liked. Somehow, it was for the best. As she and her mother walked arm in arm with one another back to the ballroom, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
She felt as if she were lighter in her steps, that she and her mother had reached an understanding from a place of honesty — she still was not entirely certain how she was going to move forward with the truth of her birth out there in the open, she still had her father to confront about the whole thing … but the fear of their reaction was removed.
It was better this way.
The only way she would get to know every part of herself was to be honest and allow herself permission to feel any way she liked about it. A necessary sort of discomfort.
Though, that discomfort shifted as they crossed back into the ballroom. Seraphina had intended to slip along the sidelines as she always did when meandering around these great estates, but the music had stopped. Nobody was moving on the dance floor at all. In their place seemed to be a buzz of conversation, and while sometimes she had felt as if all eyes were on her before … they certainly were right now.
“I have a feeling that we have missed something important, Mother,” Seraphina whispered to her mother, who looked to be just as confused as she was. In truth, she had never seen anything quite like this — the singular focus of the London elite turned to one person.
She might have been flattered if it did not appear so intimidating. Instead, the sense of unease shifted to dread in her stomach. Seraphina’s world seemed to shatter like fragile glass, her heart sinking as her father’s sombre figure approached. Whatever was going around, whispered behind fans … he knew what it was. Clearly, it was something to do with them and their family. Father’s face was etched with an agony of embarrassment, a reflection of the truth that Seraphina had tried to deny. As he reached them, his voice trembled with a mixture of regret and resolve.
“I am so sorry, my dear,” he said, his words heavy with sorrow.
“Philip, what is happening?” Lillian asked with her lips hardly moving.
So it was about them. Something had happened. Some secret had come to light, and she could not fathom which of her many secrets it might be. Where was Elizabeth? Lord Thorne? Tristan? There had to be at least one kind face left for them in this room. Her heart pounded in her chest, the reality of the situation hitting her like a cruel slap. She had hoped that somehow, in some miraculous turn of events, her gut would be wrong. But her father’s confirmation shattered that fragile hope.
He looked at her with love and sorrow, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I have arranged for our immediate departure. We must leave this place, this mockery of a society.”
The weight of his words bore down on her, and Seraphina felt a lump forming in her throat. The ballroom, once a place of elegance and laughter, now felt suffocating. She glanced around at the guests, her fellow peers, her so-called friends, who now regarded her with scornful glances and whispered mockery.
The isolation was palpable, the warmth that had filled the ballroom replaced by a chilling emptiness. It was as if a barrier had been erected between her and everyone else, a barrier built on prejudice and judgement. Seraphina clenched her fists at her sides, the sting of their disdain piercing through her like sharp daggers.
Lillian did not fight her husband and allowed herself to be led by the arm into a half circle, but the confusion on her face was evident by her knit brow. “Yes, we will go with you, of course, we will, beloved, but I demand to know what has happened.”
Phillip glanced around as if speaking the words out loud would somehow give them more power than they already had. He met her gaze, the pain in his eyes reflecting the pain he knew their daughter would soon experience. “Lillian, the rumours have spread. They know about Seraphina’s lineage. I do not know how they know, but rumours that she is of inferior birth paired with some other malicious rumours about her courtship with Lord Ashford — I fear that as the mob seems to have turned on our girl, they will stop at nothing to degenerate her fully.”
Put in that context, something seemed to flicker across Mother’s features that Seraphina assumed she would only understand if and when she ever had children of her own. A gasp escaped Lillian’s lips, her face paling as the gravity of the situation dawned on her. She turned her gaze to Seraphina, her heart aching for their daughter. “Oh, my poor child ...”
Tears welled in Seraphina’s eyes, her parents’ distress mirroring her own. How could this have happened? They had been alone in that room, had they not? She wanted to hide, to escape from the judgemental eyes that were surely fixated on her now. But her father’s voice drew her attention back.
“We must leave this place, Lillian,” he continued, his voice heavy with resignation. “This society, these people ... they will never accept us, not after this.”
Lillian nodded slowly, her hand still resting on her husband’s arm. “You are right, Phillip. Our priority is Seraphina’s well-being.”
Seraphina felt gratitude and sadness as she listened to her parents’ conversation. Despite the turmoil, they stood together, united in their determination to protect her.
Her mother’s gaze found hers, and in that shared moment, Seraphina knew that her parents’ love for her was unwavering. Seraphina’s mind raced as her father continued to speak, explaining their hasty departure. She could not help feeling angry and frustrated at the unfairness of it all. She had done nothing wrong, yet she was being cast aside, her reputation tarnished by the cruel whims of society.
“What was the rumour about Lord Ashford, Father?” Seraphina found herself asking, her feet unmoving despite how he urged her to retreat.
Phillip gazed for a long moment into his daughter’s eyes, reluctant to say but knowing her well enough to know that she certainly would not surrender easily. “They are saying that the only reason he courted you was to ruin you in the name of a bet …”
