Chapter 24
“You intend to let him stay?” Maria asked as she walked with Damien through the hallways of Winterleigh.
It had been nearly a week since Ezekiel’s arrival, and Damien had finally emerged from his bedchamber.
Maria had met him outside his room and suggested that they spend some time together, and he agreed, although seemingly with some measure of reluctance.
Their path had been a circuitous one, the direction set by Damien.
Maria took it as a sign that he wished for her company.
It gave her a warm flush that spread out from her heart.
There is hope. I feared that Ezekiel’s impulsiveness would be the end of any trust Damien ever had for me.
She only hoped that she was not imagining good will where there was none. It was frustrating enough that their relationship had ceased to blossom with Ezekiel’s arrival, but it would be infinitely worse if their closeness ceased to be entirely.
“I can do little else. By his own admission, he has no money left. I would not leave him on the streets,” Damien said.
“And you believe him?”
“I am surprised that you ask. You seem to be keen for me to believe him.”
“I am. I think he really is your brother,” Maria said.
“It was the stain on his skin that convinced me. On the left side of his body.”
Maria reached out, letting her hand trail down Damien’s arm to his hand. His breath hitched.
“And no curse,” she said deliberately.
Damien took a deep breath, touching his bare face. Maria stopped, taking his hand in hers and placing a kiss on his scarlet cheek.
“See? No harm has come to me, nor will it. No harm has come to anyone who has seen Ezekiel’s chest, either.”
“Our mother saw it, and she was taken by fever.”
“So were a lot of people that year. Including many who did not know what Ezekiel looked like under his clothes,” Maria insisted. “There is no curse, my dear husband, save for the one that you have cast on yourself.”
Damien enfolded Maria in his arms, holding her tightly.
“When you confessed that you had been speaking to him behind my back, I felt like… I was losing you. It was only when you almost fell out of the tree that I was shocked back to my senses. Or perhaps out of them. I do not know if I am operating on sense and reason or emotion.”
“Emotion. Compassion. Something of which your mother possessed in abundance,” Maria said.
She clung to Damien, enjoying this interlude before they took their separate corridors.
Or perhaps tonight we will not.
The evening spent in the oak tree was fresh in her mind, but already taking on the otherworldly quality of a dream. It was simply too magical to be real. But real it had been. She smiled up at Damien, who gazed down with a serious expression.
Will there ever be a time when his expression is not serious? Perhaps I can fix that. Make this house a happy home and make Damien’s natural expression one of laughter.
“I wish I had certainty about him. There is a part of me that says he cannot be who he says he is. That this is all a subterfuge.”
“The suspicious part of you. The part that wants to be alone in this rambling old house. Because being alone is easier than trusting,” Maria said.
“All very astute.”
He took her hand and walked on. She savored the feel of his broad, strong hand and the grip that would not release her unless he chose it. It made Maria feel safe and protected.
“How is Gilbert?” Damien asked.
“Well. Recovered from the fever. Asking when he will be allowed to come and live here.”
“Is that a question?”
“Yes,” Maria answered directly.
Damien looked at her. “Let me get to grips with our houseguest first. Then you may bring him and… I will be present.”
Maria smiled and saw the corners of Damien’s mouth twitch.
“I would not bring him into a house with a stranger of whom I am not certain,” Damien said.
Maria nodded, smiling. She was enjoying the walk and the conversation.
She was enjoying the growing trust that she sensed from Damien.
In the past, when something had made him suspicious, she might not see him for days.
In the oak tree, he had overcome his paranoia quickly enough to catch her as she was about to fall. That was progress.
“That is wise. I hope that the need to entertain our houseguest will mean that we spend more time together?”
“You say that as if you are starved of my company.”
“That is a good way to describe it.”
“You exaggerate.”
“I assure you, I do not. A breakfast, a luncheon, a dinner or even an afternoon’s walk in the park. I would enjoy any and all immensely.”
Damien stopped for a moment, looking at her critically, head lowered and eyes narrowed. He resembled nothing so much as a feral animal, only just learning to feed from a human hand. She looked back at him patiently.
It is worth it. I believe that he is worth it. He will be. But I must be patient. Push too hard and he is likely to bolt in the opposite direction.
“They seem like simple things to enjoy. Most women seem to pursue jewelry, fine gowns, and society balls. That…sort of thing.”
Damien’s tone made it clear what he thought of that…sort of thing. Maria smiled.
“I do not miss what I have never had. Father was not very social and did not encourage me to be. My friends are that way inclined, however, and I am occasionally carried along with their enthusiasm. I will choose muddy shoes and the hem of my dress damp from trailing in long grass to a tiara and a ball.”
Damien’s lips twitched. “Grass stains on the clothes, but an afternoon of peace beneath the shade of an oak and a thrush to provide the musical accompaniment?”
“Heaven,” Maria said, simply.
She was not trying to ingratiate herself but responding honestly. She hoped he could sense that.
“I, too, have never known anything else but solitude and simplicity. Very well, I will give orders that the three of us will dine together. And when Ezekiel is gone, you and I will continue the arrangement.”
Maria knew she was beaming but did not care. Damien replied with a smile of his own. Feeling bold, Maria decided to broach the subject she had been discussing with her friends.
“My friends are keen to arrange a ball. I think Anna is going to sponsor it as she is a duchess,” Maria said.
“No,” Damien said, smile sloughing from his face as though it had never been there.
Maria stopped midstride. Her arm stretched as Damien kept walking without letting go of her hand. Then he stopped and looked back.
“I will not be stared at,” he said. “Besides, we have just been discussing simplicity.”
“I am not talking about social obligations but of pleasure. Dancing is pleasurable, and for myself, I would do it in a sackcloth for all I care about clothes. As for your face, people will get over it in moments. It will be no more interesting than what dress I am wearing or how well we perform our dance steps,” Maria protested.
“I said no. I will not stop you attending, but I will not be with you. Did you think that because I no longer wear the mask that I would simply walk into a public arena? With this face?”
He pointed to the red mark.
“Are you proposing to continue living as a hermit then?”
“Yes.”
He walked on, actually shaking his head. Maria hurried to keep up. They descended a staircase, then another.
“I think it is time we both retired. Tomorrow I will show Ezekiel the house and our mother’s gallery.”
“And this conversation?” Maria demanded.
“What conversation? You asked, and I refused. It is over.”
“It is far from over.”
“Where exactly are you going?” Damien demanded.
“I do not know because this damnable house is kept so dark!” Maria exclaimed, stopping in her tracks.
She had been walking along a hallway into impenetrable gloom. Damien was behind her. Now he was pursuing her. She turned to face him.
“I know it is a frightening prospect…” Maria began.
Damien’s face went rigid, his eyes hooded. He took a step back, physically retreating even as he mentally withdrew. Maria went after him.
“It is bound to be, but it is the best way of showing the ton that you are a normal man. Not the Phantom. And that your face is simply a different color of skin, a mark from birth. Nothing more.”
A sound reached Maria from behind, muffled by walls and doors. It had been there as she spoke, and when she stopped, she had a brief moment of hearing it clearly. Or so she thought. It stopped. Silence lay over them like a thick cloak.
Did Damien react? I think he did. Just a twitch. I feel like I dreamed the sound. Was it really there?
She turned to stare into the gloom, waiting for the sound to repeat itself.
“What is it?” Damien asked irritably.
“I thought I heard a noise,” Maria said quietly.
“We have discussed this before. Old houses are like old people. They chatter aimlessly. It is of no consequence.”
Maria peered into the darkness, then she closed her eyes, listening for the sounds. She became aware of Damien’s presence behind her. It was like standing in front of a mountain or a towering oak.
His hands settled on her hips. The touch was as light as a butterfly but landed on her with the solemn weight of a promise to God. She lifted her head, arching her back slightly, unconsciously reacting to his proximity and his touch.
“I hear nothing. Not a click or a tick,” Damien said.
She almost stamped her foot. Just as he spoke, she had heard something; voices, faint and human.
But whatever they were vanished like mist under his touch.
His hands traveled upward, tracing her sides with an aching patience.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Do not tease me unless you mean to satisfy me fully,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Yes. You have touched me, but you have yet to give me what I truly want,” she said, her face growing so hot that she thought she might die of want and shame both. “I want you to take pleasure from me, too.”