Chapter 26 A Love Like Absolution
A Love Like Absolution
Damien felt the familiar luxury of crimson velvet as he settled into his private box at Covent Garden.
The location provided an intimate sanctuary overlooking the grand theater, where London’s elite had gathered for Mozart’s Don Giovanni.
Eleanor’s presence beside him in gold silk was both torment and delight as the opening notes filled the opulent space.
She’d insisted they attend—several major donors to her hospital would be present, and she opined that Damien’s charm could secure commitments that might prove elusive. What she hadn’t anticipated, though her knowing glances suggested awareness, was how the intimate setting would affect him.
Every time she leaned forward, candlelight caught the elegant line of her throat, the gentle swell of her breasts above her décolletage. When she whispered observations about the performance, her breath warm against his ear, Damien’s attention wandered from Mozart to far more carnal considerations.
The irony wasn’t lost on him—watching an opera about a notorious seducer while consumed with desire for his own wife.
Since their consummation two weeks ago, they’d barely left each other’s beds.
Every morning, he woke with Eleanor in his arms, every evening found them tangled in passion that grew more intense rather than familiar.
And therein lay his growing guilt. While he’d been losing himself in Eleanor’s embrace, learning every sensitive spot that made her gasp his name, where was Dominic? His brother remained missing while Damien indulged in marital bliss.
Three years he’d dedicated to Dominic’s recovery, sacrificing everything—including Laura—to ensure his brother’s safety. Yet now, Damien found himself distracted by Eleanor’s smile, the silk of her skin, the intoxicating sounds she made when he—
“The Countess of Mountainbridge is waving,” Eleanor murmured, drawing his attention to a box across the theater. “We ought to acknowledge her. She’s been quite generous to the hospital.”
Damien inclined his head toward the countess, even as his hand found Eleanor’s on the arm of her chair. The simple contact sent warmth spreading through him.
“You’re not watching the performance,” Eleanor observed quietly, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Don Giovanni’s seduction scene, and you’re thinking of something else entirely.”
“I’m thinking,” Damien replied, his voice hoarse, “that this box affords us considerable privacy.”
Eleanor’s cheeks pinkened delicately, but her smile was pure feminine satisfaction. “Your Grace, we’re in public.”
“I can be subtle.” His thumb traced circles against her wrist. “The shadows are quite concealing.”
Before Eleanor could respond, the lights brightened for intermission, and the spell of intimacy shattered as Society began its ritualistic promenade and visiting between boxes. Damien suppressed a groan of frustration, reluctantly releasing Eleanor’s hand as the first visitors approached.
Lord and Lady Caldwell arrived and were followed by the Marquess of Dunmore, then several other acquaintances seeking to pay their respects.
Eleanor graciously accepted compliments on her gown and inquiries about her charitable work, while Damien played the devoted husband, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back.
He was in the midst of discussing a potential donation with Sir William Thornbury when a familiar voice interrupted their conversation.
“Your Grace, how delightful to encounter you here.”
Damien turned to find Croft approaching, his hair slicked back like the slippery cur he was. The man’s smile was perfectly cordial, but his eyes held a cold satisfaction that made Damien’s instincts sharpen to dangerous alertness.
“Lord Croft,” Damien replied with careful neutrality. “Enjoying the performance?”
“Mozart always provides such illuminating entertainment,” Croft replied smoothly, his gaze flickering to Eleanor, who had moved to speak with Lady Stormhaven. “Might I borrow you for a moment? There’s a matter of mutual interest I’d like to discuss.”
Every fiber of Damien’s being screamed warnings. “Of course.”
They moved to the back of the box, where heavy curtains provided privacy from both the theater and Eleanor’s attention. Croft’s expression shifted immediately, the social mask falling away to reveal something far more sinister.
“I trust you’ve been enjoying married life?” Croft’s tone was conversational, but his eyes glittered with malice. “Though I imagine it must be difficult, knowing your brother’s situation remains unresolved.”
“If you have information about Dominic, speak plainly,” Damien said, his voice low and icy.
“Oh, I have information indeed.” Croft’s smile widened. “Though I wonder how much you truly know about your dear brother’s activities these past few years.”
“If this is about his addiction, the entire ton is already aware of his struggles and your involvement.”
“Perhaps,” Croft conceded with a casual shrug. “But I doubt they realize he’s been working for me all along.”
The words stunned Damien into silence but only for a moment. “You’re lying,” he said as his head cleared and suspicion replaced the blow.
“I wish I was for your sake.” Croft’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Your brother has been quite useful. His aristocratic connections, his apparent vulnerability—it’s astonishing how much information people will share with someone they pity.”
“Impossible.” But even as Damien spoke, doubts crept in. Dominic’s relapses had always seemed to coincide with moments when Damien’s guard was down. The timing of his departure for London, despite explicit warnings…
“And then there’s Lady Laura,” Croft continued with casual cruelty. “Though I suppose calling her Lady Laura is rather outdated now.”
“What about Laura? If you’re holding her against her will—”
“Holding her?” Croft laughed, the sound devoid of humor. “My dear duke, she came to me willingly. You see, she had rather pressing reasons to seek my protection.”
“What reasons?”
Croft beamed, his smile dripping with malice. “Didn’t you know? She had a child out of wedlock. The child is three years old now—a lovely boy with his father’s eyes.”
The theater spun around Damien as the implications crashed over him. Three years old. Which meant… “No,” he whispered.
“Oh yes,” Croft said with obvious relish. “Conceived shortly before your departure for Asia, I’d imagine. Rather changes one’s understanding of why she refused to accompany you to the Orient, doesn’t it?”
Before Damien could formulate a response, Croft melted back into the crowd of intermission visitors, leaving him standing frozen beside the curtain, his mind reeling with revelations that shattered everything he’d believed about the past three years.
Eleanor’s soft touch on his arm jolted him back to awareness. “Darling? The second act is beginning.”
Damien looked down at her concerned blue eyes, her beautiful face unmarked by the devastating knowledge that had just been thrust upon him. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think beyond the crushing weight of betrayal and knowledge.
Laura had been pregnant. With his child. While Damien had been resenting her refusal to accompany him, she’d been carrying his baby. But he’d asked her… he’d made sure, had confirmed about her courses. God, could it be true? Could he be a father?
“Damien?” Eleanor’s voice carried genuine worry now. “You’ve gone quite pale.”
“I’m fine,” he managed, though his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. “Simply… the heat in here is rather oppressive.”
Throughout the second act, Damien sat rigidly beside Eleanor, his mind churning with questions and doubts. He played his part when required—applauding at appropriate moments, acknowledging greetings from other boxes—but inside, he felt as though he were drowning.
When Lord Cadogan approached during the final intermission to discuss a potential endowment for Eleanor’s hospital, Damien summoned enough composure to engage in the necessary negotiations.
His years of diplomatic training served him well, allowing him to present the charming and persuasive side of him while his inner world crumbled.
“Your lordship is most generous,” Eleanor said warmly as Lord Cadogan departed with promises to consider their proposal. She leaned toward him and whispered, “That conversation alone could fund our expansion plans.”
“Indeed,” Damien replied, but his tone lacked its usual warmth. The careful distance he maintained felt necessary—how could he touch her, hold her, love her with his usual passion when everything he’d believed about himself, his family, his past might be lies?
The carriage ride home passed in tense silence, broken only by Eleanor’s occasional attempts at conversation about the evening’s success. Damien responded with perfunctory politeness, his thoughts consumed by Croft’s revelations and their implications.
“All right,” Eleanor said finally as their carriage turned onto their street. “What did Lord Croft say to you?”
Damien’s hands clenched into fists in his lap. “What makes you think—”
“Because you’ve been a different person since intermission,” she interrupted, her voice gentle but firm. “Whatever he told you has clearly upset you greatly. What was it?”
For a moment, Damien considered telling her everything—the claims about Dominic, the revelation about Laura’s child, the growing doubts about everything he’d believed to be true. But the words stuck in his throat, too raw and uncertain to voice.
“He told me things about my family that I need to process,” he said finally. “Things I’m not ready to discuss.”
Eleanor studied his profile with concern. “And you’re inclined to believe them?”
“I don’t know,” Damien admitted. “That’s what I need to determine.”