Page 50 of The Duchess’ Little Miracle

“Seraphina!”

Out from the edge of the crowd burst Euphemia, gliding across the polished parquet floor.

“Effie!” Seraphina gasped, her composure melting away.

The two sisters came together in a long embrace. “Oh, I have missed you so horribly,” Euphemia murmured, pulling back to grip Seraphina’s hands. “How are you? You look magnificent!”

Beside them, Nathaniel stepped forward and exchanged a firm handshake with William. “Carlton,” Nathaniel said, nodding. “Surprised to see you at a ball.”

“Darington,” William replied smoothly. “I could say the same about you.”

Seraphina caught Euphemia’s sleeve, leaning in close. “Effie, I must speak with you. Privately. It is a matter of the utmost urgency.”

Euphemia blinked in concern, then turned to her husband. “Darling, would you mind terribly if I stole Seraphina away for a few moments before the dancing commences?”

“Of course, my love,” Nathaniel agreed easily.

William glanced at Seraphina curiously, but simply bowed. “Do not wander too far. The opening set will begin shortly.”

Euphemia steered Seraphina away from the central staircase and down a corridor into a secluded picture gallery. The moment they were alone, Euphemia turned. “All right, what is going on? You look... flushed.”

“It has been happening way too often, Effie. I have no control over it.”

“Did William do something?” Euphemia’s eyes widened.

“No.” She shook her head. “William has been... extraordinarily accommodating,” Seraphina said, pacing a small circle. “Euphemia, I am coming to you because I need someone else to work this out for me. To... investigate. You have access to books and a vast library; you can help.”

“Help with what?” Euphemia asked, watching Seraphina closely. “What is the matter, sister?”

“For weeks now, I have been experiencing a most peculiar, distressing set of physical symptoms whenever I am in William’s presence.”

Euphemia’s brow furrowed. “Symptoms?”

“Whenever he comes within close physical proximity, when he speaks in a low register, or touches my hand... my body undergoes a complete physiological collapse,” Seraphina explained rapidly. “My pulse accelerates to a dangerous rate. A sudden, intense heat floods my chest. My breathing becomes shallow, and my stomach feels as though it is infested with insects. I cannot focus my thoughts.”

Euphemia listened with furrowed eyebrows.

“I have considered several hypotheses,” Seraphina continued. “At first, I believed it was an atypical presentation of angina or a localized vascular glitch. But now, I have a better hypothesis. I might be having a reaction to his cologne. His scent. Have you ever encountered a medical condition like this? What do you think it is?”

Euphemia stared at her in stunned silence for three seconds before letting out what sounded like a scoff. “Seraphina, are you telling me you dragged me into a private corridor to ask if you have a rare medical disease?”

“It is not a laughing matter!” Seraphina protested. “My body is behaving like a malfunctioning steam engine.”

Euphemia stepped closer. “Tell me this, sister. Does this disease also make it impossible to look him in the eye when he smiles at you?”

Seraphina stiffened. “Well... yes, on occasion.”

“Does it make your heart hammer when he says your name?”

“...Yes.”

“Does it make you feel breathless when he looks at you?”

Seraphina swallowed. “Yes. You seem remarkably familiar with these exact diagnostic parameters. What are you thinking?”

Euphemia shook her head. “Seraphina, out of all three Byron sisters, you have always been the most brilliant one. You read the most books, know more than Leonora and I combined when it comes to science. But are you truly telling me that you believe you are suffering from a medical condition... as opposed to simply having feelings for your husband?”

Seraphina let out a defensive laugh. “What? Feelings? Love? Euphemia, do not be absurd.”