Page 93 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
Her mother is as poised as ever, her gown a deep violet that makes her look impossibly regal. Her father, tall and stern, regards her with the same sharp eyes she grew up under.
Selene gulps.
This—this she has not rehearsed. This is a conversation she has never had before, in either of her timelines. Selene learned young never to disappoint her parents. She has no idea how to act towards them now.
For a moment, they only stare at one another, the swell of the ballroom fading into nothing. The music, the laughter, the conversation—it all dulls beneath the weight of the unspoken words between them.
It’s Lady Duskbriar who gathers the courage to speak first. “Selene.”
It’s not a question, nor an accusation. Just her name.
Selene’s mouth is dry. “Mother. Father.” She dips into a curtsy before she even thinks about it. Some things are too ingrained to shake.
Her father’s expression remains unreadable. “You look well.”
The words are neutral, but something about them feels heavy. As if he expected otherwise. As if hewantedotherwise. Because if Selene is miserable… it’s her own fault. He can stand there and say ‘I told you so’ and shame her for her disobedience.
“As do you,” Selene manages.
Her mother’s eyes flick over her, searching. Selene wonders if she’s trying to find something to criticise. She looks impeccable. She’s confident about that if nothing else.
“Where’s your husband?” her father asks.
“Seeking the water-closet,” Selene responds. “We had quite the journey. Our carriage threw a wheel—”
“That’s nice. I beg you will excuse me.”
He turns his back and walks away, stalking towards a group that includes the Duke, Lord Fairmont, and Lord Dashridge. The Duke’s piercing gaze washes over her, but doesn’t linger long.
Selene remains rooted to the spot.
“How have you been?” Lady Duskbriar asks. “Truly—no pleasantries. No standing on ceremony.”
“I’ve been well,” Selene assures her. “Ebonrose Hall was a little provincial at first, but I’ve renovated the place beautifully. The staff have been ever-so-helpful—” It seems wrong to call Rookwood, Ariella and Sorenstaffwhen they’re Dorian’s family, but there will be no explaining that to her mother. She would never understand. And despite everything—despite how much sheshouldn’t—Selene still finds herself wanting her mother’s approval.
“I’m glad to hear it,” her mother says placidly, but then her face hardens. “No, actually, I’m not. You made a terrible mistake marrying that man, Selene. I don’t understand it. And whilst I am obviously glad you’ve not been hurt—”
“Are you?” says Selene.
“What’s that?”
“Are you glad I’ve not been hurt? Or would you have been perfectly fine with that, so long as the Duke was my husband?”
“The Duke would never dare to—”
But he did,Selene wants to scream.He did hurt me. Maybe not with fists or feet, but with lies and words and promises that meant nothing.
She died because of him long before she bled out in that temple.
“He is agentleman,Selene,” her mother insists. “But Lord Nightbloom… we know nothing about him.”
“Youknow nothing,” Selene spits, not caring that her tone was far from ladylike. “Dorian Nightbloom is the best man I’ve ever met—”
“Then you have clearly not met enough men.”
“And whose fault would that be?” Selene hissed. “If you wanted me to know more about men, perhaps you should have told me more about them before trying to marry me off to one!”
Lady Duskbriar’s fingers tighten around her glass, knuckles paling. “Come home, Selene,” she says wearily, like this is an argument they’ve been having for years rather than minutes. “If you say he forced you… Your father and the King are friends. We could petition for an annulment. It’s not too late to undo this mistake. You’re not yet with child, you could pretend the marriage went unconsummated—”
