Chapter 14 #2
“Your brother,” she said softly.
Damien turned at her approach, and suddenly they were standing much closer than propriety dictated.
The firelight danced between them, creating an intimate cocoon that seemed separate from the world outside.
His eyes, usually so full of mischief and calculation, held only honesty and a pain so deep it made her breath catch.
“Dominic,” he confirmed, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze dropped to her lips for just a moment before returning to her eyes. “I couldn’t bear to lose someone else I…” He stopped, the unfinished words hanging in the air between them.
Eleanor’s pulse quickened as she realized what he’d almost said. The space between them seemed to shrink without either moving, the air growing thick with possibility. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the way his breathing had become as uneven as her own.
“Damien,” she breathed, his name a question and an invitation all at once.
His hand rose slowly, as though he were afraid she might flee, until his fingers barely grazed her cheek. The touch was featherlight, reverent, and it sent fire racing through her veins.
“I should step away,” he murmured, even as his thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone. “I can’t do this, not…”
“Not what?” Eleanor whispered, her own hand rising to cover his where it caressed her face.
“Not this madness between us,” he said roughly, his eyes darkening. “I can’t seem to think clearly when you’re close to me.”
They stood frozen in that moment, the memory of their carriage kiss hanging between them like an unspoken promise. Damien’s eyes searched hers, and she could see the same hunger there that had consumed them both that night.
“Eleanor,” he said, her name a prayer on his lips.
The sharp crack of a log settling in the fire broke the spell.
Eleanor sprang back, her heart hammering as she checked her skirts for any stray sparks.
The moment of near-intimacy dissolved, leaving her feeling exposed and foolish.
They each took seats before the fire, a careful distance between them.
“Tell me about your brother,” she said, needing to redirect her wayward thoughts.
Damien’s hands clenched briefly before he forced them to relax. “Dominic has been battling an addiction to opium for four years now. Croft’s men deliberately cultivated his dependence to control him.”
Eleanor felt her heart clench with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you know of Croft?” Damien asked, his voice carefully controlled.
“Very little, but enough to recognize a predator.” Eleanor adjusted her damp skirts, grateful for the practical task. “He approached me after George’s death, claiming he could ‘protect my interests’ better than any solicitor. Something in his manner made my skin crawl.”
“Your instincts were sound.” Damien’s jaw tightened. “Before I knew about Dom’s addiction, I would travel on business—shipping investments, trade negotiations—sometimes for weeks at a time. Dom had power of attorney to manage estate matters during my absences.”
Eleanor watched his profile, noting how the firelight emphasized the tension in his features. “A necessary arrangement.”
“One that Croft exploited ruthlessly.” His voice turned bitter.
“Every time Dominic was arrested for opium possession, every bribe needed to secure his freedom, every emergency requiring immediate funds—all of it went through Croft’s network.
He used my brother’s addiction like a puppet string as he’d planned all along. ”
The pieces clicked into place with devastating clarity. “He was systematically stealing from you.”
“Forged documents, family assets sold at below-market rates to his associates, loans secured against the estate—all bearing Dominic’s legitimate signature while he was too compromised to understand what he was agreeing to.
” Damien ran a hand through his hair. “By the time I realized what was happening, most of our liquid assets were gone.”
Eleanor stared at him, her assumptions crumbling. This wasn’t the fortune hunter she’d feared, but a man who’d been systematically robbed by the very predator now circling her own interests. “That’s why you needed our arrangement.”
“And why I’ve been searching every night since my return.” His expression hardened. “Dom disappeared from our lodgings in Macao six weeks ago. Left nothing but a note saying he was returning to London.”
“Against your wishes.”
“Against my explicit instructions.” Pain flashed across his features. “We’d been making progress. He’d been sober for nearly eight months, was beginning to remember who he used to be. And then he ran straight back to the place that nearly destroyed him.”
Eleanor felt something shift in her chest at the raw anguish in his voice. “You’ve been looking for him all alone.”
“Croft has resources I lack now. Connections, safe houses, places where a duke’s influence means nothing.” He met her gaze directly. “That’s why I was gathering intelligence about your business affairs. Not to steal your fortune, but to expand my search through your network.”
The simple honesty affected her more than any elaborate explanation might have. “You could have simply asked.”
“Could I?” His smile was rueful. “You’ve made it quite clear you consider me an unwelcome intruder. Why would you risk your independence to help a man whose presence threatens your reputation?”
Eleanor considered this, recognizing the logic in his reluctance. She thought of Mrs. Peterson, of the dock workers who trusted her, of the women in Madam Tansley’s network who depended on her discretion. “The risk to my people if Croft discovered they were helping us…”
“Which is exactly why I couldn’t ask.” Damien’s voice carried heavy self-recrimination. “I’ve already watched one person I love become Croft’s victim.”
“But Croft is already targeting both of us,” Eleanor replied, attempting to ease his guilt. “The way he was fishing for information at the ball proves that.”
“If he realizes we’re working together, he’ll escalate his attacks.” Damien’s hands clenched into fists. “I must find Dominic before that happens.”
Eleanor felt her chest tighten. “Then what? Will you leave England again?”
“If I must.” The answer came without hesitation.
“How much longer will you run?” The words escaped before she could stop them, edged with an emotion she refused to examine. “Doesn’t it feel like letting Croft win?”
Damien’s expression softened unexpectedly. “It doesn’t feel like running when my brother is himself again. When my heart is full of gratitude that he’s well.”
Eleanor felt something cold settle in her stomach. Of course. He would leave the moment Dominic was safe, disappearing back into exile and leaving her to face whatever remained of Croft’s schemes alone. The partnership she’d foolishly begun to imagine was nothing more than temporary necessity.
She turned toward the window, using the pretense of checking the weather to hide her expression. The cottage that had felt like a sanctuary now seemed like a place of false promises.
“Of course,” she said quietly. “Your brother must come first.”
Behind her, she heard Damien shift in his chair. “Eleanor…”
“The rain’s stopping,” she observed with forced lightness. “We should return before the servants worry.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and uncertain futures. Eleanor remained at the window, afraid to turn around, afraid of what her face might reveal. She’d learned his secrets, understood his motivations, even felt her heart soften toward his cause.
But she’d also learned that whatever connection existed between them would always be secondary to his devotion to Dominic. And that knowledge settled around her heart like armor, protecting her from hoping for more than he could give.