Chapter 129: Distance

Chapter 129: Chapter 129: Distance

The week following the Founders’ Ball had been...

Remarkably uncomplicated.

Or so Damian had initially believed.

As a fourth-year student, his timetable rarely overlapped with that of the first years.

Their lecture halls occupied different buildings.

Their tutorials seldom coincided.

Even the Foundation work that had briefly brought them together resumed only on Saturdays.

Avoiding Lady Beaumont, it turned out, required surprisingly little effort.

He simply continued living exactly as he always had.

Or at least...

That was what he told himself.

Tuesday.

He chose the eastern staircase instead of the central one after spotting a familiar golden-haired figure crossing the courtyard below.

Wednesday.

Julian suggested stopping by the student café between lectures.

Damian declined.

There was no particular reason.

At least...

None he cared to examine too closely.

Thurday.

He finished a committee meeting later than usual.

Ordinarily, he might have taken the shorter path past the Humanities Building.

Instead, he found himself turning toward the Law Faculty without conscious thought.

Only halfway there did he realize the route added nearly ten minutes to the walk.

He kept walking anyway.

Then it was Friday.

The polo practice had ended earlier than expected.

Normally, he would have remained behind with several teammates to discuss preparations for the upcoming inter-university exhibition match.

Instead...

He had excused himself almost immediately.

"You’ve somewhere to be?"

One of the team members had asked.

Damian had adjusted his gloves.

"I remembered something."

No one questioned the answer.

They rarely questioned him.

By the time the equestrian practice concluded nearby...

He was already gone.

...

There had been no reason to stay.

No reason at all.

The thought settled comfortably.

Then, uninvited...

Another followed.

Under the chandeliers...

She had smiled.

Not the polite smile she offered professors.

Nor the bright one she wore when teasing him.

Something quieter.

Warmer.

The music had faded into the background.

Her hand had rested lightly in his.

He remembered thinking...

That he wished the dance would last just a little longer.

Damian closed his eyes briefly.

"..."

That...

Had become the problem.

Not the dance itself.

Not the rumors that followed.

Not even Julian’s observation.

"Other people don’t know your history."

No.

The problem was far simpler.

He had stopped thinking of Lady Beaumont as merely a childhood acquaintance he happened to meet again at university.

Somewhere between Foundation meetings...

Community visits...

Conversations that wandered far longer than intended...

And one dance beneath crystal chandeliers...

Something had changed.

Quietly.

Almost imperceptibly.

Until it was suddenly impossible to ignore.

His feelings toward Lady Beaumont...

Had become something more than simple affection.

More than the easy fondness he had once believed existed only between old acquaintances.

He found himself looking for her without meaning to.

Wondering what she might say next.

Finding excuses to prolong conversations that should have ended several minutes earlier.

...

Whatever this was...

It had gone far beyond friendship.

The realization remained as unwelcome this morning as it had been a week ago.

Anthony was his cousin.

One of the few people Damian trusted without reservation.

Lady Beaumont...

Was still Anthony’s fiancée.

That alone should have been enough.

Distance, therefore, was the sensible choice.

Necessary.

Respectful.

The fact that it had also become unexpectedly difficult...

Changed nothing.

--

Saturday morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Ashford Foundation conference room.

Several project teams had already begun gathering around the long tables.

Folders were exchanged.

Attendance sheets passed from one coordinator to another.

The familiar rhythm of another Foundation Saturday had begun.

Peter looked up from a stack of observation forms.

"Morning."

Damian inclined his head.

"Morning."

Jessica arrived a moment later, balancing two folders and a notebook beneath one arm.

"I hope everyone’s awake."

Oliver laughed.

"Speak for yourself."

Sophia smiled as she settled into the remaining chair.

"I brought coffee."

"You planned ahead," Jessica said approvingly.

"I’ve learned from experience."

Light conversation drifted easily around the room while coordinators finished arranging the morning’s materials.

Peter and Oliver had somehow begun debating whether coffee or tea was the only acceptable way to survive Saturday mornings.

Jessica rolled her eyes.

Sophia quietly placed another paper cup beside her.

Damian turned another page of the observation report.

His eyes lifted toward the doorway.

...

He frowned almost imperceptibly.

He hadn’t meant to look.

There was no reason to.

She would arrive when she arrived.

He lowered his gaze back to the documents.

...

There was no reason to check.

She would arrive when she arrived.

--

Saturday mornings had always felt different.

Perhaps because they weren’t spent inside lecture halls.

Or perhaps...

Because the Ashford Foundation reminded her there was a world much larger than Saint Albion University.

Vivienne adjusted the strap of her satchel as she crossed the Foundation courtyard.

Volunteers moved briskly between parked Foundation vehicles.

Several coordinators stood in small groups discussing schedules while others loaded boxes into waiting vans.

The building buzzed with the quiet, purposeful energy that seemed unique to Saturday mornings.

Normally...

Her thoughts would already be on the day’s observations.

Instead...

They drifted elsewhere.

Anthony.

She had already made her decision.

After today’s fieldwork...

She would meet him.

And she would end the engagement.

The realization no longer hurt as much as she had expected.

There was still sadness.

But beneath it...

Relief.

Like finally reaching the end of a road she’d been walking for far too long.

She drew a slow breath.

One conversation.

That was all.

One honest conversation.

Then...

They would both be free.

Surprisingly...

The thought made breathing a little easier.

Perhaps...

Acceptance really did come quietly.

--

By the time Vivienne reached the conference room, she slowed almost unconsciously before the glass panel set into the wooden door.

Through the glass panel, she could already see the meeting had begun to gather.

Peter was sorting through several observation forms.

Jessica and Sophia were bent over a notebook, discussing something in hushed voices.

Oliver leaned comfortably against the conference table, a cup of coffee balanced in one hand.

Nearby, Damian stood reviewing a folder.

...

Everyone was already here.

Vivienne smiled to herself.

"Looks like I’m the last one."

At least they hadn’t started yet.

She pushed the door open.

Several heads turned.

"Morning," Peter greeted.

"Morning," Oliver echoed.

Jessica smiled.

"Good morning."

Sophia lifted a hand in greeting.

Vivienne laughed softly.

"Sorry."

"I hope I didn’t keep everyone waiting."

Peter waved the concern away immediately.

"We only got here ourselves."

"You aren’t late."

"Oh, good."

She let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

"For a second I thought I’d somehow lost track of time."

Oliver chuckled.

"That would’ve been impressive."

A few quiet laughs circled the room.

The atmosphere relaxed almost instantly.

Only then did her gaze drift toward Damian.

He was already looking in her direction.

As expected.

Somehow...

Damian always seemed to notice people arriving before anyone else did.

She smiled without thinking.

"Morning, Damian."

For the briefest instant...

Something in his expression softened.

Almost imperceptibly.

"Good morning..."

A pause.

So slight that no one else would likely notice.

"...Lady Beaumont."

--

Vivienne blinked.

Lady Beaumont?

The title sounded strangely unfamiliar coming from him.

When had he started calling her that again?

Just a few days ago, "Vivienne" had become almost effortless between them.

Now...

The distance was back.

She studied him for another second.

Same neatly pressed suit.

Same composed posture.

Same calm expression.

...

Except...

Not quite.

There was something different today.

Not cold.

Not unfriendly.

Just...

Careful.

As though every word had first been weighed before being spoken.

Then...

Understanding arrived.

Ah.

The rumors.

Of course.

He was trying to avoid giving people more reason to gossip.

Poor Damian.

He was actually taking it seriously.

The realization amused her far more than it probably should have.

He had always seemed so effortlessly composed.

Nothing embarrassed him.

Nothing flustered him.

And yet...

One harmless rumor had somehow convinced him to resurrect formal titles.

She lowered her gaze before the smile threatening at the corners of her lips became too obvious.

Well...

This could be fun.

--