Chapter 9: Secrets and Scars

Chapter 9: Secrets and Scars

Sleep did not come easily that night. Seraphina lay awake long after Adrian had retired to his own chambers, the events of the evening swirling in her mind like the dust motes dancing in the moonlit room. The encounter with Laurent, the unsettling revelation of her resemblance to Evelyne Valemont, and Adrian's cryptic warning to be careful who she trusted – it all painted a disquieting picture.

Adrian's words echoed in her thoughts: "I expect you to be my queen." What did he mean? Was it a declaration of trust, a challenge, or simply another layer of deception in this intricate game they were playing? Seraphina's intuition screamed that there was more to this marriage, and to Adrian, than met the eye.

She could not afford to be reckless. If her father had fallen prey to unseen forces, she would not make the same mistake. She would tread carefully, observe those around her, and gather information before making any rash decisions.

A sharp knock on the door startled her from her thoughts. "My lady," a voice called softly.

Seraphina sat up, her heart pounding. "Enter," she commanded, her voice laced with a hint of apprehension.

Lady Eleanor, the housekeeper, stepped into the room, carrying a tray laden with a silver teapot and delicate china cups. "You did well at the ball," she remarked, her voice a soothing balm against the tension that had settled over the manor.

Seraphina arched a brow, surprised by the unexpected praise. "Did I?"

Eleanor's lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. "You kept your head high despite the whispers and the stares. That is a victory in its own right."

Seraphina studied the older woman, her gaze lingering on the lines etched around her eyes, the subtle signs of weariness that hinted at a life spent navigating the treacherous waters of the Valemont household. "You've been in this house for many years, haven't you?" she inquired, her voice laced with curiosity.

"I have," Eleanor confirmed, her gaze steady.

Seraphina hesitated, then plunged into the question that had been burning in her mind since her encounter with the hidden portrait in the library. "Then tell me," she asked, her voice barely a whisper, "who was the woman in the portrait?"

Eleanor's expression flickered, a hint of sadness crossing her features before she composed herself. "She was Lady Evelyne Valemont," she replied, her voice carefully neutral. "The Duke's mother."

Seraphina's breath hitched. The woman in the portrait was Adrian's mother? The woman who bore such a striking resemblance to herself? A wave of confusion and unease washed over her. Why had Adrian never mentioned this? Why had he kept it a secret?

"She died under… tragic circumstances," Eleanor continued, her voice laced with a hint of sorrow.

A chill ran down Seraphina's spine. "What happened to her?" she pressed, her curiosity piqued.

Eleanor hesitated, her gaze flickering towards the door as if fearing unseen ears. "Perhaps that is a question best answered by your husband," she replied evasively.

Seraphina's frustration grew. It seemed everyone in this house was shrouded in secrets, their words veiled in half-truths and evasions. She clenched her fists beneath the sheets, her resolve hardening. She would not be deterred. She would find the truth, even if it meant defying her husband and delving deeper into the shadows of Valemont Manor.

Later that morning, Seraphina found herself drawn to the western wing of the manor, a place where silence reigned and shadows lingered. She pushed open an old wooden door, its hinges groaning in protest, and stepped into a room thick with the scent of dust and decay.

The air was stale, heavy with the weight of forgotten memories. Dust clung to the furniture, shrouding the room in a ghostly pallor. And then, in the dim light filtering through the grimy windows, she saw it.

Another portrait.

It was Evelyne Valemont, painted in her youth, her beauty radiating from the canvas. And the resemblance… it was uncanny. Seraphina's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the portrait, her mind reeling. Why had no one told her? Why had Adrian kept this hidden?

A creak behind her made her spin around, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger concealed beneath her cloak.

Adrian stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his silver eyes gleaming with a mixture of surprise and something else – a flicker of vulnerability that Seraphina had never seen before.

"You shouldn't be here," he said quietly, his voice laced with a warning.

Seraphina lifted her chin, her gaze unwavering. "Why?" she challenged. "What are you hiding?"

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, he stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"My mother was murdered, Seraphina."

She sucked in a breath, the weight of his words settling upon her like a physical blow.

"And if you are not careful," he continued, his gaze intense, "you may share her fate."

The warning hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken threats and a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked within the walls of Valemont Manor.