Page 54 of The Duke's All That
But his new status also meant she had fallen so far beneath him it was laughable. Which was ironic, really. Hadn’t she been the one to proclaim all those years ago that status was not important and she didn’t care how unmatched society deemed them to be? Yet here she was, holding on with both hands to the certainty that they could not be together due to his newly elevated status. After all, how could a duke be married to someone with her background, someone who had spent a nightmare of a year at an insane asylum, who had in essence been a fugitive when she had stolen her sisters away, who had gladly taken on the mantle of prostitution in order to survive? Not to mention someone who had essentially been proclaimed dead.
All during her blind meanderings Phineas stayed silent on her shoulder, pressed comfortingly against her neck, as if he sensed she needed time. Finally, however, she realized that if they were to complete what they had set out to do here in Edinburgh she had best return to the inn. And so, with heavy steps, she turned about and made her reluctant way back.
Iain was still in the private dining room, though now he was alone. He looked haggard, wan, with a heavy air about him. When he noticed her, he rose, the chair scraping against the floor. But he did not move toward her. No, he remained where he was, though his eyes burned as he looked her up and down, as if to ascertain she was well.
“Your grandmother and cousin are gone?” she asked. A stupid question, really. She had already noted their obvious absence.
“Aye,” he replied, his voice rough as if from overuse. “They left nae long ago.”
She nodded, clasping her hands tightly before her to keepfrom reaching out for him. “And are things… improved between you?”
“Aye,” he said again, quieter now, gentler.
Letting out a trembling, relieved breath, she sagged. Phineas, no doubt feeling his comforting presence was no longer needed to such a degree, alighted from her shoulder and flew to land on the wooden table at the center of the room, where a collection of fruits and green leaves and seeds sat in a bowl. Her throat thickened. It was all too obvious Iain had procured it especially for Phineas.
Iain, watching her closely, motioned to the empty chairs. “There is cold meat and cheese and bread if you’ve a mind to eat. We have nae eaten since this morning, after all.”
Though eating was the very last thing Seraphina felt like doing just then, she nevertheless nodded and took a seat, accepting the plate Iain passed her, picking listlessly at the food as he took his own seat and began to speak again.
“I shall be visiting with my family at their town house tomorrow. It will nae be an easy healing, I’m thinking. But at least it has begun.” He gave her a solemn look. “It is thanks to you.”
She attempted a smile, but it was a frail thing that could not seem to find purchase. “Nonsense. It would have happened eventually; I just gave it a little push. I am happy for you, Iain. I think you all need each other, much more than any of you know.”
But they were getting into painfully intimate territory, weren’t they? Clearing her throat, she asked, “And have you heard back from the Lord President regarding a meeting with him?”
His eyes tightened at the corners, and he nodded sharply. “Aye, I have. We can leave as soon as we’ve finished eating.If,” he continued, his voice wavering slightly, “you still wish to go.”
Oh, God, if only she could say no, that she wished to remain with him, to try again.
But she could not. She had her life and her sisters to return to. And he had a fresh start, which would only be polluted by her presence in his life.
She nodded and stood. “We’ve no need to wait. I’m not hungry anyway. We may as well get this over with. The sooner I get on the road the sooner I may reach Haddington, and I would prefer to reach it by nightfall, if at all possible.”
But though he slowly stood, he did not move to leave. “Seraphina—”
His tone told her he was not ready to let her go so easily, either physically or emotionally. Panic flaring to life in her breast, more for the fact that she feared he would be able to convince her to stay, she cut him off.
“No, Iain.” Leaning across the table, she attempted to encourage Phineas onto her finger. But the blasted little traitor waddled out of the way and kept on eating, for the first time in his life oblivious of her distress. Or too hungry to care.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, she moved to the other side of the table. But her pet merely waddled in the other direction, giving an annoyed little chirp as he did so around a beak full of apple.
Iain, unfortunately, took this opportunity to try again. “Seraphina—”
“No!” she repeated, louder now, so loud that she startled Phineas, who ruffled his feathers and moved even farther out of reach. Adjusting her spectacles, Seraphina ground her back teeth together and shoved a heavy chair out of the way to try and reach her pet. But yet again she failed.
“You cannae ignore me or what we’ve shared the last days,” Iain persisted, frustration drawing out more of his brogue until it fairly tangled about his tongue.
Giving up on Phineas for the moment, she gave a small growl of agitation and faced Iain. He had moved around the table and was much too close to her for her peace of mind. Stepping back, she glared up at him.
“We have had this conversation already,” she bit out. “You agreed that what we shared was temporary, that we could not go back in time and try to reclaim what we had.”
“Nae, we cannae do that,” he gruffly agreed.
She threw up her hands. “Then what is this about, Iain? You are only making things more difficult than they need to be.”
“What is difficult,” he growled, “is knowing that in a matter of hours you will climb up inside a carriage and leave forever. What is difficult is knowing that no matter what the hell I do, you willnae give us a second chance.”
“Stop it, Iain,” she snapped, even as panic and longing and grief writhed inside her.
