Chapter 22
That touch was barely perceptible—light as a breath. Like a question, like hesitation, like something approaching with great care.
Valencia felt it.
Her tears finally broke free, sliding down her cheeks.
But she quickly wiped them away, not wanting her daughter to see.
"Mom," Seraphine said, her voice very quiet, "I'm okay."
Three words, spoken as though they cost her nothing.
But Valencia knew how much lay buried beneath them.
She nodded and said nothing more.
The car drove on.
The day Orion was discharged, the weather was exceptionally fine.
Sunlight fell through the car windows, warm and golden against his skin.
He'd been lying in a hospital bed for the better part of two weeks, and he could practically feel his bones stiffening. Now, watching the streetscape rush past the window, he felt his spirits lift enormously.
"Mr. FitzRoy, straight home?" the assistant asked from the front seat.
"No." Orion waved a hand. "Take me to Windsor Manor."
The assistant froze and instinctively glanced in the rearview mirror.
Someone else was sitting in the back—Octavius.
He had come today specifically to collect Orion from the hospital. He wore a dark charcoal suit, his collar buttoned immaculately, his entire presence measured and refined.
At Orion's words, his expression didn't change. His gaze remained fixed on the window.
The assistant said cautiously, "Mr. FitzRoy, you've just been discharged. Perhaps rest at home first? There's no rush to visit Windsor Manor."
"No rush?" Orion gave a short sound of displeasure. "Seraphine pulled me back from death's door. If I don't thank her in person, I won't have any peace. Today. Right now."
The assistant didn't dare argue further and told the driver to change course.
The car headed toward the hillside estate where Windsor Manor stood.
Octavius sat in the back seat, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against his knee.
His expression appeared perfectly calm—but if one looked closely, the corner of his mouth had curved, just slightly.
Orion noticed.
"Little brat," he shot his grandson a look, "don't think I don't know what you're thinking."
Octavius returned his gaze to the window, his tone impassive. "What am I thinking, Grandfather?"
"What are you thinking? You're thinking about that engagement of yours." Orion scoffed. "Before, you were throwing a fit to have it dissolved. Now that you know the other party is Seraphine, you'd marry her tomorrow if you could. You think I can't see right through you?"
Octavius neither denied nor confirmed this.
He simply said, "Grandfather, you're not going to Windsor Manor just to say thank you, are you?"
Orion smiled, and said nothing.
Grandfather and grandson, each with his own thoughts, as the car glided steadily up the mountain road.
Twenty minutes later, the car stopped at the entrance of Windsor Manor.
The estate sat halfway up the hillside, sprawling and grand, its architecture carrying the weight of old elegance. The grounds were planted with all manner of flowers, now in full bloom. From a distance, it looked like a painting.
Wesley and Valencia had received the call ahead of time and were already waiting at the entrance.
The moment Orion stepped out of the car, Wesley strode forward, his voice warm and respectful. "Mr. FitzRoy, you've barely recovered—you should be resting at home. Whatever you needed, a phone call would have done. There was no need to come all this way in person."
"I've rested plenty," Orion said cheerfully. "After all those days flat on my back, my bones were starting to set. Being out and about is good for me."
Valencia stood beside her husband, her gaze moving past Orion to the man stepping out of the car behind him.
Octavius was dressed formally today—a dark suit, expertly cut, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist.
He didn't come forward immediately after exiting. He stood by the car for a moment, his gaze making a quiet, unhurried sweep of the courtyard.
Valencia knew what he was looking for.
She smiled gently. "Octavius, Sera's in the sitting room. Come in and take a seat."
Octavius gave a small nod, his face showing nothing—yet his stride noticeably quickened.
In the sitting room, Seraphine was settled on the sofa with a design magazine.
She hadn't been out today. She was wearing a smoky grey knit top, her hair loose over her shoulders, and there was a softness to her that was more visible than usual.
Sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and fell across her, wrapping her in a faint, warm glow.
At the sounds from the entrance, she looked up.
Her gaze passed over Wesley and Valencia, passed over Orion—and landed directly on Octavius.
Their eyes met.
Octavius's step faltered.
Only for an instant. Then he continued forward without expression, settling onto the sofa—though his attention stayed tethered, almost imperceptibly, to Seraphine.
Ondine sat at the far end of the sitting room, teacup in hand, a composed smile on her face.
From the moment Orion and Octavius had walked through the door, her eyes hadn't left Octavius.
She saw what his gaze was searching for when he entered.
She saw how it kept drifting, again and again, toward Seraphine.
Every detail was a needle pressing into her heart.
But her smile never wavered.
"Mr. Orion FitzRoy, you're here." Ondine stood and moved to greet him, her voice soft, her concern measured perfectly. "Are you feeling better? I've wanted to visit you for some time—but I was afraid of disturbing your rest."
Orion glanced at her. The warmth in his expression cooled by a fraction. "Much better. No need to trouble yourself."
Ondine's smile stiffened slightly, but she recovered quickly.
"That's a relief." She stepped gracefully aside. "Mr. Orion FitzRoy, please sit. I'll bring you tea."
"Don't bother," Orion said, waving her off as he settled into a chair. His eyes found Seraphine. "Seraphine, here we are again."
Seraphine set down the magazine and gave a slight nod. "Mr. Orion FitzRoy. Your color looks good."
"It certainly does," Orion said with a cheerful laugh. "All thanks to you. These old bones of mine—I feel more alive now than before I fell ill. You wouldn't believe it. The doctors were dumbfounded. Said my recovery was practically a miracle."
Seraphine gave a brief, neutral sound of acknowledgment and didn't comment further.
Orion didn't mind. He turned to Wesley and Valencia and traded a few pleasant exchanges.
After a few minutes of conversation, his expression shifted, growing deliberate.
"Wesley. Valencia." He set down his teacup, and his tone became measured. "I came today not only to express my gratitude. There is another matter I wished to discuss with you."
Wesley and Valencia exchanged a glance. Both had already half-guessed what was coming.
"Please go ahead, Mr. FitzRoy," Wesley said.
Orion let his gaze move from Octavius to Seraphine, then back. "It concerns the engagement between our two families."
The atmosphere in the sitting room shifted.
Ondine's hand paused against her teacup. The tea sloshed, a few drops spilling onto her fingers.
She didn't seem to feel the heat. She lowered her head quickly, concealing what was rising in her eyes.
Seraphine's hand stilled on the magazine as well—for just a moment. But she didn't look up. Her expression remained even.