Seraphina's sleep had never been restful since the gathering. The confrontation with Lord Harrowby and the other aristocrats had left a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. But it wasn't just the words of the elders that troubled her-it was the weight of what was to come. The estate would have to change, and she knew she was the one to drive that change. It wasn't a burden she had anticipated, but it was one she had to bear.
That night, the nightmares began.
Seraphina's breath quickened as she tossed and turned in her bed. The familiar faces of the aristocrats from the meeting loomed over her, their eyes cold and disdainful. Their voices blurred into a cacophony of judgment, each one louder than the last, each one more condemning than the previous.
"You're not fit for this," Lord Harrowby's voice echoed in her mind. "You will ruin everything."
Her heart raced. The words seemed to slice through her thoughts. The weight of the estate and the lives of the people depending on her crushed down on her chest. Seraphina gasped, her hands trembling as she clutched the sheets tighter.
And then, the faces blurred into darkness, and she was falling, tumbling into the void.
With a sudden gasp, Seraphina shot upright in her bed, her heart pounding. Sweat drenched her brow, and her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. The dream lingered in the edges of her mind, but she couldn't focus. It was all too real. She couldn't shake the sense of panic that gripped her, the feeling that she was losing control.
In her disoriented state, she stumbled from the bed and threw on a robe. Her mind was racing, and she couldn't shake the feeling of suffocating, of being trapped in the very place that should have been her refuge. She needed to escape, to breathe.
She didn't know what compelled her, but before she could stop herself, she was rushing through the halls of the manor, her bare feet slapping against the cold marble floors. The echoes of her frantic footsteps reverberated through the otherwise silent house. The servants' quarters were far from the formal elegance of her chambers, tucked away at the rear of the estate. But it was the only place where she felt a semblance of peace, a place where the weight of her title didn't matter, where people didn't look at her with the eyes of expectation.
As she reached the servant's door, she hesitated, her hand on the cold iron handle. Her breath was still uneven, but she pushed the door open, desperate for something, anything, to calm her mind.
Inside, the warmth of the hearth greeted her. A few of the servants were still awake, moving about quietly, though they paused when they saw her standing in the doorway, disheveled and panicked.
"Your Grace?" one of the younger maids asked, her voice laced with concern. "Is everything alright?"
Seraphina's gaze darted around the room, unsure what she was looking for. She took a few shaky steps inside, her chest still tight with the remnants of the nightmare. She couldn't explain why she was here-why she had come running to them, to this space. The silence was comforting in a way that the grand halls of the manor could never be.
"I-" she started, but her words faltered. She hadn't thought this through. She had just acted on instinct.
Benedict, who had been standing by the hearth, turned when he saw her enter. His brow furrowed, noticing her distress. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. It was as if the entire world had paused.
Seraphina's breath caught in her throat when their gazes locked. He seemed to understand something she couldn't put into words.
He signed quickly, his movements fluid, "What happened? Are you alright?"
Seraphina's eyes flickered to his hands, the words coming to her slowly. She didn't even need him to repeat them-she knew what he was asking. The words were comforting, somehow, though she didn't have the strength to explain.
"I-" she began again, but this time her voice faltered entirely. "I had a nightmare." The words felt weak as they left her lips, almost ridiculous. She was the Duchess of Worthington, yet here she was, standing in the servant's quarters, admitting that she was scared, vulnerable.
Benedict took a step closer, his presence steady and calm. He didn't judge her. There was no sneer or condescension in his gaze. Instead, there was a quiet understanding.
He signed again, this time slower, as if to ensure she had time to process. "You're safe here."
Seraphina swallowed hard, the knot in her throat tightening. There was something incredibly soothing about his words, even though he had not spoken a single one. She could feel the sincerity in his gestures, in the way he held her gaze.
"Thank you," she whispered, surprised by the softness in her voice. She hadn't meant to come here, but she was glad she had.
One of the maids, noticing the tension in the room, took a step forward. "Would you like some tea, Your Grace?" she offered gently. "It may help calm your nerves."
Seraphina hesitated, but the thought of the warm drink seemed comforting. "Yes," she murmured, her voice still shaky.
The maid bustled off to prepare the tea, and Seraphina found herself retreating to the corner of the room. She sank into a chair, feeling the weight of the exhaustion from the nightmare settle in.
Benedict lingered nearby, observing her silently. There was something in his gaze that she couldn't quite place-something tender and attentive. It made her feel oddly protected, though she had never asked for that protection from him.
The tea arrived soon after, and Seraphina took a sip, letting the warmth of the liquid spread through her. The panic from the nightmare had lessened, though the unease still clung to her. It was as if something deep inside her had cracked open, revealing a vulnerability she hadn't known existed.
After taking a sip of the tea, the warmth spread through Seraphina, but it did little to soothe the anxious ache still lingering in her chest. The house felt too big, too empty. She hadn't realized how much the events of the day and the nightmare had drained her until now. She wasn't sure what came over her, but she suddenly felt overwhelmed by the need for comfort.
She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to ask. The words felt strange, but they tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.
"Can I sleep with you?" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it more real. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment the moment she spoke. She quickly looked down at her hands, clutching the teacup tighter as if it could shield her from her vulnerability.
Benedict didn't hesitate. His soft eyes met hers, full of compassion, and without a moment's pause, he moved toward her. His hand gently cupped her face, guiding her to look at him again, as though to reassure her she was safe.
With a swift movement, he guided her to sit beside him on the cot, his body warm and firm as he enveloped her in a hug. She didn't expect it, but his arms surrounded her with a comforting embrace, pulling her close against his chest. Her body stiffened for a brief moment, unsure of the intimacy of the action. But then, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, the calmness in his touch, she melted into him. The night, the nightmare, the world-everything seemed to disappear for a while.
She could feel the steady warmth of his body, his presence enveloping her completely. He said nothing, but his embrace spoke volumes. The heat of his body brought her comfort, and his quiet strength grounded her, allowing her to let go of her tension, if only for a moment.
"I'm here," he signed gently, his fingers brushing against her back as if to offer solace without words.
Seraphina didn't respond with speech. She just nodded, feeling a wave of vulnerability rise up in her chest. But Benedict didn't pull away. Instead, he held her tighter, as if he wanted to shield her from everything that threatened to overwhelm her.
"Thank you," she whispered, so softly that it could barely be heard over the sound of their breathing. She didn't know what more to say, but the weight in her heart lifted a little with every minute she stayed in his arms.
Benedict adjusted himself to settle in the cot beside her, keeping his arms around her, almost protectively. His presence was like a steady anchor, and for the first time that night, she felt the tremors in her chest settle.
And for the rest of the night, there were no nightmares. No sudden jolts from restless sleep. No panic. Just the sound of Benedict's steady breath and the warmth of his arms, keeping her grounded and safe. Seraphina fell into a peaceful, uninterrupted sleep, knowing she wasn't alone.