Page 36 of Wicked By Design

As it happened, he was on his way there now, which was just as well, it seemed.

“Does this mean you are on your way to church, or even better, to the hall?” Deon asked, eyeing him critically. “Please say yes. I’m in no mood to fight with you, but it seems you are leaving me no option.”

“Yes, like a good little soldier,” Damian replied tightly, closing the door behind him. “Shall we?”

Deon inclined his head, following him down the hall.

“Thank you for vacating your rooms, by the way. I was beginning to fear I should never get the stench of cheese out of my nose,” he said, tugging on his gloves as he walked.

Deon chuckled. “You’re welcome. Now, are you going to tell me why you’ve been playing least in sight all week? Cilly is miserable, you know.”

Your fault.

Deon did not need to say the words out loud. Damian knew they were true and were to be laid at his feet. Yet he had not created this situation, she had. He owed her nothing. Why the devil should his long-forgotten conscience decide to spark to life now, of all times, when it wasn’t even his bloody fault?

“Better a little unhappiness now than a lifetime later, Deon. She wants things I cannot give her, and you know why.”

“Yes, but does she?”

They had reached the front door and Damian pushed out of it, turning to face his brother once they were outside on the promenade.

“Strangely, I have not wished to burden her with that information just yet.”

“She has a right to know, Damian.”

Deon’s expression was sympathetic, understanding even, which only made Damian want to hit him. He sucked in a breath, trying to soothe his temper, and turned to face the splendid expanse of blue sea before swinging back to face his brother.

“Does she? I didn’t ask for this, remember. I was caught in a trap.”

Deon nodded. “That’s true, but are you going to hold it over her head for the rest of your lives? It’s no way to live, Damian, bearing grudges and counting slights. Let it go and tell her the truth.”

Damian snorted. “Why do I hear an unspoken or else lurking there?”

“Or else Hetty will tell her.”

Well, of course she bloody would. Damian’s lip curled. “Ah, a big happy family. How good to know my new sister is not above blackmailing me.”

“She loves her sister, Damian, as I do you. We want the best for you both. We want you to be happy.”

Damian snorted and shook his head, stalking on ahead. “And how long do I have for this ultimatum?”

“It’s not like that,” Deon protested. “Just tell her, Damian.”

The words faded as Damian strode away from him. Just tell her. As if it were nothing, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Hell.

Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 15th September 1816

“It’s fine, Hetty. Run along, for heaven’s sake. It’s Sunday, and Gideon has some well-earned free time. Spend it with him. I’m perfectly happy,” Cilly said, still sitting at the piano in the music room. She had been picking out a rather tortuous and sombre tune when her sister arrived, which was making it harder to convince Hetty she was in no need of bolstering.

“But I thought we could walk to church together,” Hetty replied, clearly torn between insisting she stay and spending some rare time with her hardworking spouse.

“I’m not on my own,” Cilly reproved her with a smile. “I have Gee-Gee and Hawkney, Lord Sheringham, and—”

“And no sign of your fiancé,” Hetty remarked reprovingly. “You’ve still not seen him?”

Cilly shook her head, refusing to allow her disappointment to show. Everything had been going so well, far better than she had dared dream, and then… no sign of him. Gideon had confirmed that he was still in town, his valet having only just moved them into The Mermaid. Hetty and Gideon had left their suite and rented a charming little cottage on the edge of the village, about which Hetty was in raptures.