Chapter 22
“Greetings and salutations, brother dearest!” Jeremy boomed as the door to Damien’s study flew open.
Damien looked up from his paperwork with a glare already fixed to his face, but he quickly shifted into a neutral expression when he saw Caroline and George coming in right behind his little brother.
“Good day,” Damien replied warily, sitting back in his chair.
Though Damien had felt his heart drop when Caroline had made her wants clear the other day, despite the moment they had shared, he could not help but feel the usual fondness for her as his eyes drew naturally to her person.
She was beautiful, as always, in that buttercream gown he particularly liked, and today he noted how she had forgone her usual bun and wore her hair halfway down, her long, chocolate brown curls cascading down her shoulders and back.
She is more breathtaking every day.
He watched a blush steal over her cheeks, and her chocolate brown eyes quickly left his to stare at the floor. Realizing that he was staring, he shifted his gaze to George and gave the boy a small smile.
“What is all this then?” he asked.
“We are going on a picnic,” George announced.
“That sounds lovely,” Damien mused.
“We were hoping you would come with us, Damien dearest,” George went on. “Jeremy is going to teach me how to float afterward.”
Damien raised his brows in surprise, flicking his gaze to his brother. Caroline tried to hide her chuckle at the boy’s imitation of Jeremy.
“Are you in any condition to be in the water with the boy?” he asked, taking in his brother’s exhausted state.
Like most men of the ton, Damien enjoyed a drink or two in the evening. However, Jeremy seemed to be constantly in a state of inebriation to some degree or another, and he was starting to grow worried, even as he told himself he was just overjoyed at reuniting with old friends.
“I have never been better,” Jeremy replied, but as he took a step, he stumbled and barely caught himself on a nearby end table.
“I can see that,” Damien muttered, raising a brow.
Jeremy cleared his throat as he righted himself and straightened his wrinkled jacket.
“Though perhaps taking pleasure in another activity might be appropriate,” Jeremy acquiesced.
“I concur,” Damien mused, watching with curiosity as the boy wandered over to the drink cart and picked up an empty glass.
With great seriousness, George reached for the nearest decanter, pretended to fill the glass, and then raised the glass to his lips.
He swirled it once, just as Jeremy always did, closed his eyes, and took a long, satisfied sip of nothing.
Damien’s brow arched as he looked to Caroline, who was pressing her lips together very firmly.
“Jeremy has been teaching him the finer points of brandy appreciation,” she explained.
“I can see that,” Damien said.
“In my defense,” Jeremy began, “I did not actually let him drink any.”
“High praise,” Damien replied drily.
George, satisfied with his performance, set the glass down and, in doing so, caught the decanter’s neck with his elbow. It teetered for a moment, then toppled, taking the glass with it in a spectacular crash.
“I-I am s-sorry!” George exclaimed, his little face pale as he stepped away from the broken bottle and glass.
He looked to Damien with fear-filled eyes and took a cautious step toward Caroline.
Hating that he had put such fear in the boy, Damien shook his head as he quickly rounded his desk and kneeled before him.
“Now, now, it is all right,” Damien coaxed, taking George’s little hands in his own. “Are you hurt? Did you cut yourself?” he asked, inspecting the little palms for any cuts. He found none and released a breath of relief before looking into George’s eyes.
The little boy fervently shook his head.
“I-I d-d-did not m-mean to dr-rop it,” he stammered, tears welling in his large brown eyes.
“It was an accident,” Caroline interjected.
Hearing the apprehension in her voice, Damien felt another bout of guilt moving through his chest.
Did she think I would punish him?
He shot her a glance as he nodded.
“I know that,” he said softly, rubbing the little boy’s palms with his thumbs as he turned his gaze back to George.
“You have nothing to worry about, George, I promise. I am not angry. I just need to know that you did not hurt yourself.”
From his peripheral vision, he saw Caroline’s posture relax, and in front of him, George took a deep, calming breath.
“N-no,” he replied meekly.
“Good, that is good,” Damien said with a nod. “Accidents happen. We are all allowed to make mistakes, as long as we learn from them. Right?”
George nodded vehemently, the fear fading from his eyes.
“Right,” George agreed. “I-I guess there are some things Jeremy does that I sh-should not do.”
Damien huffed out a laugh and turned a curious glance toward Caroline, who, blessedly, gave him a small smile.
“He has been imitating Jeremy for a few days now,” Caroline explained. “Says he wants to be as funny and happy as he is.”
Both Damien and Jeremy chuckled at that.
“Well, lad, I am honored,” Jeremy said, clapping a hand on George’s shoulder. “But you are correct, there are some things that I do that you should not. Besides, you are not like me. You do not need spirits to keep you happy and funny.”
George turned to him, curious. “But Damien does not drink spirits as you do, and he is a bad dog,” he replied.
“What?” Damien laughed.
He looked toward Caroline, whose face was now beet red in the most adorable way. Beside them, Jeremy cackled.
“That is my fault,” Caroline explained sheepishly. “I explained to George that you were like a bad dog. You may bark and growl sometimes, but you never bite.”
Oh, I would bite you. I would bite you in places that would make you moan and whimper in ecstasy if you would only allow me to.
The devious thought arose unbidden, as did the heavy throb of lust that bloomed in his groin. Damien shook his head, attempting to dispel both, and forced out another laugh.
“I did not know you had such a low opinion of me,” he muttered as he looked up at Caroline.
Regret filled her brown eyes as she nibbled anxiously on her lower lip.
Oh, God, please stop that, or I will bite your lip for you.
“It was the only analogy I could think of at the time,” she whispered back.
Damien huffed as he shook his head and then turned his attention back to George.
“You know what, I believe your Cece is right. I do growl and bark a bit, do I not?” he asked George in an amused tone.
The boy giggled as he nodded.
“She is also right about me biting,” Damien went on. “Even if I sound angry, I am never going to hurt you.”
George looked hesitant for a moment, then asked, “Promise?”
Damien gave a grave nod as he looked at the boy with great seriousness.
“I swear it,” he promised.
He then gave the boy’s palms a soft squeeze, then let go so he could rise to his full height.
“Now you said you wanted to go on a picnic, yes?” he asked, and George, with his excitement renewed, readily nodded his head.
“Very good. Let us go then. But perhaps instead of swimming today, I could teach you to fly a kite.”
George’s eyes widened with excitement as Caroline’s expression softened into a look of gratitude, a look that immediately made Damien’s heart throb with longing.
“I would like that very much,” George agreed.
“Excellent,” Damien announced, rubbing his hands together as he drew on a smile. “Now let us go down to the kitchens and have them make us a basket.”
“It is so high!” George exclaimed with joy.
Damien’s smile was wide and genuine as he looked away from the floating kite and down to the little boy at his side. His tiny hands were wrapped tightly around the wooden peg the spool of string was attached to, holding it just as Damien taught him to.
He had been nervous at first. He had never taught a child to do anything before. However, George’s willingness to learn made it quite easy, and it did not take very long to teach the boy how to get the kite into the air.
Behind them on their picnic blanket under the shade of the tree were Caroline and Jeremy.
Caroline had brought some embroidery along, but her eyes were fixed on Damien and George, with a hopeful, affectionate smile on her face.
Jeremy was on the opposite side of the blanket, lying out and snoring softly.
“You like it?” Damien asked.
George beamed at him.
“I love it,” the boy readily replied.
A surprising surge of pride swept through Damien.
“I am so glad,” he replied earnestly. “It was so long ago that I made this kite, I was worried it would not fly.”
George’s eyes grew wide with wonder as he looked from Damien to the kite.
“You made this yourself?” he asked.
“When I was not much older than you,” Damien confessed, “Jeremy and I would fly our kites all of the time until...”
He cut himself off, his chest suddenly feeling tight as awful memories flooded his mind.
“Did something happen to Jeremy’s kite?” George asked.
Damien nodded. Something had happened to the kite. To Jeremy as well. Both had been damaged by the hands of their father. He cleared his throat and shook his head, forcing the memories to stop.
“Maybe you could teach me how to make a kite?” George asked, his little voice becoming a tether to reality for Damien. “We could make a new one for Jeremy, too, and we could fly all of our kites together.”
Damien’s heart throbbed at the thought, and a grateful smile spread across his lips. George had saved him from getting lost in awful memories and had not even known it. He crouched down and rested his hand on the little boy’s shoulder.
“I think that is a splendid idea,” he replied, his deep voice thick with emotion.
George’s face, already alight with a smile, practically glowed upon hearing Damien’s praise.