The air in St. Clair Manor was crisp and cold, carrying the first hints of autumn as leaves in the surrounding grounds began to turn gold and amber. Inside, however, tension brewed between its occupantsâone misunderstanding at a time.
Benedict Grey had never been one to dwell on his thoughts. Life as a mute footman had taught him efficiency: to think only as much as necessary and to act with precision. But as he polished the silver candlesticks in the dining hall, his mind wandered uncharacteristically.
She doesnât know sign language, he thought incredulously for the hundredth time that morning, shaking his head in disbelief. Of all the things heâd encountered in his years of servitudeâarrogant lords, overly demanding matrons, even a master who thought he could speak to horsesâthis had to be the most baffling. A duchess, educated and worldly, didnât recognize the very language he used to communicate.
He rubbed the silver with a little more force than necessary. It wasnât just ignorance that irritated him; it was her assumption. The way she spoke to him as though his silence were a choice, as though he were deliberately withholding words to spite her.
And then there was the matter of her calling his silence "refusing to acknowledge her reforms." He nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity. Not that it would matter if he didâsheâd likely think he was choking on something.
Meanwhile, in her study upstairs, Seraphina sat at her ornate writing desk, attempting to draft an invitation for the charity ball sheâd planned for the village. But the words on the page blurred as her thoughts kept drifting back to her footmanâs insolence.
Benedict Grey was the most frustrating individual she had ever encountered. He didnât speakânot a word, not a soundâand yet his actions managed to scream defiance. The way heâd signed to her the day before, all cool and collected, had set her teeth on edge. She wasnât an idiot; she knew the language existed. She had simply never been taught. But Benedict had acted as though it was her fault she couldnât understand him, as though she were somehow inadequate for not knowing.
Iâm the Duchess, she thought, jabbing her quill into the inkwell. Why should I learn his language when heâs the one who works for me?
The thought was immediately followed by a pang of guilt, but she brushed it aside. She was trying to make the manor a better place, wasnât she? To modernize, to create opportunities. Surely that outweighed one manâs stubborn refusal to speak.
Still, the memory of his dark, judging eyes lingered. Itâs as though he thinks Iâm... stupid, she realized with a jolt.
Seraphina set her quill down and leaned back in her chair, exhaling sharply. This wasnât going to work. She couldnât have a member of her staffâher direct staff, no lessâbehaving in such a way. She would have to confront him again, make it clear that his silence, whether intentional or not, was hindering their progress.
Seraphina found Benedict in the gardens, meticulously trimming the hedges under the watchful eye of the head gardener. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, lean forearms, and the sunlight caught the dark waves of his hair as he worked. She ignored the brief flicker of admiration that rose unbidden in her chest and instead marched toward him with purpose.
"Benedict," she called, her voice carrying over the quiet hum of the estate.
He straightened immediately, turning to face her with his usual impassive expression. The head gardener gave her a polite nod before retreating, leaving them alone among the rose bushes.
"We need to talk," Seraphina began, folding her arms across her chest.
Benedict raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
She hesitated, suddenly acutely aware of the absurdity of addressing someone who wouldnâtâcouldnâtârespond verbally. But she pressed on.
"Iâve noticed that you... well, you donât speak," she said awkwardly, as though the fact hadnât been glaringly obvious from the moment theyâd met. "And while I understand that some people are naturally reserved, your silence is beginning to create a... a barrier between us. We cannot work effectively if you refuse to communicate."
Benedict stared at her, his expression unreadable.
She really doesnât understand, he thought, equal parts baffled and amused. Instead of signing his response, he simply gestured to his throat, a clear indication of his muteness.
Seraphinaâs brows knitted together. "Yes, I understand youâre... not inclined to speak. But surely there must be some way for us to bridge this gap. Writing notes, perhaps? Orâ"
He interrupted her by holding up a hand, then quickly signed: This is my way of communicating. Itâs not refusal. Itâs who I am.
Seraphina blinked, the flurry of his gestures lost on her entirely. "I... I donât seem to understand. The gesture."
Benedict sighed audiblyâhis only concession to soundâand shook his head. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket, scribbled a quick note, and handed it to her.
"I am mute. I use SIGN LANGUAGE to communicate. If you cannot understand, that is not my fault."
She read the words twice, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. "Well, perhaps if you had made that clearer earlierâ"
He snatched the notebook back before she could finish and scrawled another note:
"I assumed a duchess would know what sign language is. My mistake."
The sharpness of his words struck her harder than she cared to admit. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the gulf between them feeling wider than ever.
"I see," she said finally, her voice tight. "Well, I shall have to remedy that, then. Thank you for your... input."
With that, she turned on her heel and strode away, her head held high. But inside, her thoughts churned. She had never felt so out of her depth, so unsure of herself.
Behind her, Benedict watched her retreating figure, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. What a dumb duchess, he thought again, shaking his head. But as he turned back to the hedges, he couldnât quite shake the image of her flustered expression from his mind.
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Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying the dynamic between Seraphina and Benedict as much as I am. Their misunderstandings and growing tension are just the beginning of what promises to be an intriguing journey. Stay tuned for more!