Chapter 19
“Nothing,” Damien grumbled, looking over the various letters littering his desk.
They all said the same thing. There were thousands of Georges across the country who shared the boy’s birthday, but none of them had a missing parent. Each record listed a mother and father, most of them of common stock, and there was certainly no mention of his own name on any of them.
He had known that to conduct such a search was going to be difficult, but after nearly two months, he had thought he would be at least a little bit closer to finding out who George’s true father was.
“There has to be something I am missing,” he said aloud, standing up from his desk. “Something too close for me to see. Or perhaps too far?”
He rubbed his chin, feeling the shadow of his beard start to form.
He had to shave every day, but even so, it grew so fast that by nightfall, it started to grow back.
A sudden image flashed through his mind.
Caroline, nuzzling into his chin and neck, laughing softly as she reminded him to shave.
Her soft lips brushing along his jawline, and him curling his arms around her as he laughed with her.
Damien startled at the daydream. He had had many delicious fantasies of showing Caroline the meaning of pleasure, but something so peaceful, so pure? That was something he thought was beyond him.
He huffed out a breath, his heart and cock both aching, and decided to focus on something else. Settling on getting in some late-night boxing practice, he left his study and made his way toward his practice room. As he entered the hallway, loud laughter echoed toward him, stopping him.
Jeremy’s friends are still here? It is way past midnight.
He changed directions, heading toward the parlor instead. He was nearly there when he spotted one of his maids, Clara, coming out of the parlor with a tray. She let out a small gasp and faltered in her steps when she saw him, causing a small silver dish to fall onto the floor.
“I did not mean to startle you,” Damien apologized, picking up the dish for her.
“No, please forgive me, Your Grace. I should not have startled,” Clara replied, offering him a curtsy and an apologetic smile. “I had assumed that since you were not in there, you had retired for the evening.”
Damien shook his head, then leaned toward the slightly open door as more conversation and laughter floated through the air.
He was able to make out the back of the red velvet couch, and while he recognized Caroline’s figure turned away from him, he did not recognize the man seated close to her; their shoulders were nearly brushing.
His eyes narrowed as a sudden flare of jealousy erupted in his chest, and he gritted his teeth.
“Are they keeping you from sleeping?” Damien asked, forcing his gaze back to Clara.
“It is quite fine, Your Grace, I do not mind,” Clara replied after a moment’s hesitation. “Besides, it is nice to see young George having some fun. He was so skittish when he arrived, you know.”
Annoyance slithered up to join the jealousy blooming in his chest.
“What?” he hissed, “The boy went to bed hours ago.”
Clara’s shoulders rose toward her ears at his tone, and he looked away, forcing himself to take a deep breath.
“I... I suppose he must have woken up again,” Clara offered, her trepidation clear in her voice. “Anyway, the ladies asked for more wine, and little George wanted a biscuit, so I should hurry to the—”
“No,” Damien stated, his tone steely but reserved as he looked at her again. “No, you have done enough for them tonight, Clara. You may return the tray to the kitchens and take the biscuit to the boy’s room if you like, but your work is done for the evening. Please, go take your rest.”
Though still appearing a bit intimidated, Clara’s shoulders sank down, and a grateful smile spread across her lips as she curtseyed to him.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she whispered. “I hope you have a pleasant night.”
Damien only gave her a nod, and as she hurried away, he stepped closer to the ajar door and peered inside once more.
George was in the center of the room, in his long nightshirt, with a blindfold over his eyes.
Caroline had left the couch, but it seemed that her gentleman counterpart was still not keen on leaving her side, for he was crouched down with her on the other side of the couch.
His fingertips were brushing over Caroline’s as she looked away from him and peered around the corner of the armrest, completely unaware of the contact.
He spotted another woman perched atop one of the tables, and Jeremy and another lady peeking out from the drawn curtains.
All of them were giggling loudly, trying to throw George off with a cacophony of sound.
It was a game of blind man’s bluff, he surmised, and for some reason he could not quite identify, that annoyed him even more.
Damien’s eyes were still fixed on that hand, on those fingertips brushing over Caroline’s.
“Jeremy,” Damien barked, pushing open the door as he stepped inside.
Everyone jumped and whipped their heads toward him, except for Jeremy, who casually stepped out from behind the curtains and smiled at him.
“Good evening, brother!” he greeted warmly, opening his arms. “I am so happy you changed your mind and decided to join us!”
“Join you? I came to see why there is enough noise coming from this room to wake the entire street.”
Damien glowered at his brother, but in the corner of his eye, he saw a small shape start to tremble.
He shifted his gaze and saw that George had removed the blindfold and was now grasping it tightly in both hands, growing pale.
Caroline was standing behind him as well, and even though she looked at him with disappointment, satisfaction moved through Damien as he found her no longer in touching distance of the other man, who had stood but remained behind the couch with the same terrified look that George had.
He took a calming breath, a deep rumbling sound coming from his chest from the forced nature of it, and looked back to Jeremy.
“It is late,” Damien stated, willing his anger into check. “I believe that George should be taken back to bed, and your friends should take their leave.”
He half expected Jeremy to argue, but instead, his brother slipped one of his hands into his pockets, and he placed the other on his chest, then gave him a slight bow.
“Of course you are right, brother dearest,” Jeremy agreed in a cordial, if not overdramatic tone. “We were on our last game anyway. Come, friends, let us depart to one of the taverns for another round of drinks!”
Damien shot a glaring look at the gentleman who appeared interested in Caroline, and his anger festered as he watched him approach her.
“You are coming with us, are you not?” he asked.
Damien’s teeth ground with pent-up anger, making his jaw ache.
“Oh, no. His Grace is quite right,” Caroline said politely as she gave the man her full attention. “It is late, and I should have insisted that George get back into bed at least an hour ago.”
“Join us after the boy is back in bed, then?” the man insisted. “It will not be the same without you.”
Without giving it a thought, Damien stepped toward them, his hands balling into fists. The nerve!
He caught himself taking another step as Caroline let out a light, polite laugh and shook her head.
“I should not go out without my husband, Lord Brooks, and as he said, it is late. The three of us should go to bed. Have a pleasant evening with Jeremy, and bring your wife to his ball. I would be delighted to meet her.”
The man’s disappointment was quite evident, but still he murmured his agreement as he bowed toward Caroline and wished her a pleasant evening in return.
Neither Caroline nor Damien said anything as Jeremy and his guests filtered out of the room, but as Damien turned his gaze back to her, she turned her back to him and crouched down before George.
“Did you have fun this evening?” she asked, her voice soft and kind as she rubbed her hands up and down the boy’s arms.
George still kept his terrified expression on Damien’s face for another moment; guilt rippled over him. They had come so far at dinner, and in one small moment, that progress seemed to vanish. Damien turned his gaze to the floor, ashamed that he had scared the boy. Again.
“Y-yes, Cece,” George rasped a moment later.
“I am so very glad,” Caroline replied sweetly. “However, Damien is correct. It is far too late for you to be out of bed. I want you to run along up to your room now and tuck yourself in. Remember, we have another busy day tomorrow.”
George nodded, then leaned forward to place a kiss on Caroline’s cheek. Damien saw the way she lit up as he did so, and she quickly returned the small affection.
“There should be a biscuit waiting for you in your room,” Damien called as George headed toward the door, his small way of trying to apologize.
George briefly turned to look at him, looking a little less afraid than before, and offered a small smile before he left the room.
“Well,” Caroline sighed, rising to her full height as she clasped her hands and turned to Damien with a cocked head and a raised brow. “Was that completely necessary?”
Damien bristled as a sneer itched to stretch across his lips.
“You let him join you?” he asked, instead of answering her question. “After putting him to bed for the evening? What sort of precedent does that set?”
Caroline’s dark brown eyes glittered with defiance as she pressed her lips together.
“The kind that allows laughter and fun,” she snapped, putting her hands on her hips. “The kind that pulls him out of his somberness and makes him feel comfortable around other people!”
Damien chortled as he rolled his eyes.
“Yes, I saw you were both becoming very comfortable with other people,” he retorted.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Caroline icily replied, narrowing her eyes at him.
“You just seemed to be enjoying yourself quite a bit for someone who supposedly was reluctant to return to social engagements,” he stated.
“Was that not the point?” Caroline asked, looking at him as if he had gone mad. “To partake in the evening so that I may grow comfortable around the ton again? Jeremy’s friends were kind and a bit silly, and yes, I am not ashamed to say that they made me feel at ease!”
“At ease,” Damien laughed bitterly. “Yes, it was quite clear that you were ‘at ease’ when Lord Brooks was holding your hand!”
Caroline’s plump lips parted into an O as her eyes filled with shock.
“He most certainly was not!”
“I saw him, Caroline,” Damien growled.
She gave him a look as if he were insane.
“What? You had been watching us in secret?”
“That is not the point. The point is that I saw him touching you.”
“Are you jealous?” she asked.
Damien’s heart gave a nervous tremble, as if he had been caught.
“No,” he lied, silently recalling the rage he had felt just moments ago from seeing the two touching.
Caroline arched a brow, suddenly looking quite tired despite appearing jubilant and energized only moments ago.
“Might I remind you of our contract?” she asked. “We are married by title only.”
Pain laced through his chest, but he was determined not to let it show.
“You are correct, wife, but that is not the point I am trying to make.”
“And what is your point?” she threw back.
“That I seem to be the only man who is not allowed to touch you! You accept embraces from Jeremy. You hold hands with Lord Brooks!”
“I did not even know he was touching my hand!” she exclaimed, raising her hands as she curled her fingers in frustration. “That is how little I cared for his touch! I did not even feel it!”
That knowledge appeased Damien, if only slightly.
“As for your brother,” she went on. “He is a kind soul. He is a bit playful, true, but it is apparent it is all a jest for him! Are you jealous of your own brother now?”
“Do not put words in my mouth. I am not taking issue with your growing relationship with my brother,” he countered. “I would never be jealous of Jeremy. I trust him.”
“Then what is it you take issue with, Damien?” she asked, sounding exasperated. “Is it me you do not trust?”
“No, I take issue with the fact that you are denying me!”
He had not meant to say the truth out loud. Their back and forth had just grown so quick that he had not bothered to think before he spoke. He took in her shocked, hurt expression, and willed himself to calm down.
“That is not what I meant,” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Caroline let out a bitter laugh that made him grimace.
“Oh, then do please explain,” she countered with obvious disdain.
“You are not just denying me,” he said, willing his voice to sound calm as he placed a hand on his chest. “You are denying yourself. I can feel it, Caroline. The way you melted into my embrace when I kissed you. The way you sighed so softly when I massaged your feet.”
Lust tunneled through his veins as he came to his next point, and he had to pull in another breath just to keep himself in check.
“The way you looked at me,” he rasped, daring to take a step closer as a blush rose in Caroline’s cheeks. “At the pond. And again in my study when you found me touching myself.”
He swallowed, willing himself to be brave enough to say the next part.
“Touching myself to the thought of you,” he barely breathed, taking another step closer. “We want each other, Caroline,” he stated, holding her gaze. “You just refuse to accept it.”
He was barely a foot away from her now; far too close for her to try to hide her reaction. Her breath grew shaky, her pupils dilated, and that pink blush of hers turned crimson.
“Tell me I am wrong,” he commanded huskily.
Caroline’s tongue darted between her lips, skimming over the bottom one before she drew it between her teeth and nibbled on it. How he craved to do that for her.
“Well?” he asked, taking that final step toward her. “Am I wrong?”
Caroline exhaled another shaky breath as she tipped her chin up, the black of her pupils nearly consuming all of those rich earth tones that normally swam in her irises.
“It does not matter,” she rasped. “You still are not allowed to touch me.”
“I do not need to touch you to prove that you want me,” he murmured, a slow smile forming on his lips.
Taking his time, he lowered his eyes, taking in every detail of her body and relishing the look of her before he met her eyes again.
“W-what?” Confusion filtered into Caroline’s eyes as she forcibly swallowed.
“Take a seat,” he commanded, stepping out of her way. “And I will show you.”