The Vampire's Court

Chapter 7- A Prison of His Own Desires

Morgan's face was etched with worry and fear as he rode back to his estate, his mind racing with the weight of Dimitri's threats. He knew he had to break the news to Seraphine immediately, sparing no detail, no matter how much it pained him.

As they arrived, Seraphine noticed her father's distant demeanor, but her own thoughts were consumed by the mysterious man she had danced with. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had connected with him on a deeper level, and her heart fluttered at the prospect of seeing him again.

Morgan quietly asked Seraphine to join him in his study, his voice laced with a sense of urgency. Seraphine obliged, sensing that something was amiss. As she entered the study, she saw the sadness written all over her father's face, his eyes sunken and his shoulders slumped.

He sat her down, pacing back and forth across the room, his hands clasped behind his back. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but shut it, deciding that he didn't have the right words. The silence stretched out between them, thick with tension.

Finally, Seraphine snapped, her patience worn thin. "Papa, please tell me what's going on!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling.

Morgan took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task ahead. He told her the whole, terrible truth - about the Duke's demands, about the arranged marriage, about the consequences of refusal. He spared no detail, no matter how much it pained him to see his daughter's heart break.

Seraphine was absolutely crushed, her eyes wide with horror. She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, "Will... Will I ever see Dimitri again?" Morgan's heart ached, knowing that he couldn't reveal the truth - that her new husband was, in fact, the same man who had played mind games with her, the one who promised to break her.

His mind reeled wondering how Seraphine's gentle and sheltered mind could handle such a shock, such manipulation.

He simply said no, unable to meet her gaze. He wasn't lying, he told himself. She would never see the side of the Duke that he had showed her that night. It was nothing but a facade.

Seraphine's face crumpled, and she sobbed, running out of the room as if escaping a nightmare. Morgan's eyes followed her, filled with a deep sorrow, knowing that he had just shattered his daughter's dreams.

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A week had passed since Morgan's devastating revelation, and Seraphine had become a recluse, taking all her meals in her room. The staff whispered among themselves, concerned about the young mistress's well-being. Withers' visit to deliver the ball invitation for Everwood Manor was a stark reminder of the impending marriage, and he took it upon himself to check in on the status of the soon-to-be duchess.

As Withers entered the study, Morgan looked up from his papers, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. The tension between them was palpable, and Withers' presence seemed to fill the room with an air of foreboding.

"Ah, Withers," Morgan said, his voice strained. "I suppose you're here to discuss the... arrangements."

Withers' expression was unreadable, his eyes glinting with a hint of steel. "Indeed, Lord Emmons. I've brought the invitation to the ball at Everwood Manor. The Duke requests your presence, and that of your daughter, to discuss the details of her dowry."

Morgan's jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. "I'm not sure that's necessary. We can discuss the details via correspondence."

Withers' smile was a thin, cruel line. "Oh, I think it's very necessary, Mr. Emmons. The Duke is eager to finalize the arrangements. And I'm sure you're aware of his influence."