Page 58 of Wicked By Design

She wondered if he would think her foolish, but he just nodded.

“Very well. A house with a sea view. I shall see what I can do.”

“Just like that,” she said softly, watching him. “Don’t you care where we live?”

He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. “No. So long it isn’t at Rivington Hall. I believe you now understand why I prefer to forget that place.”

She nodded. “I do. But what will you do with it? Have you considered renting it out? That way future generations, those who do not have your associations with it, might return to it one day. Your family could keep their heritage.”

Though she had not really considered the implication of her words until after she had spoken, she realised at once he believed she was testing his resolve, and was hardly surprised when he pushed back.

“I have already considered that. I’ve sent someone to make an estimate of the cost of renovating it. If it’s not beyond repair, I shall do so. It will provide an income and it’s possible Deon’s offspring might make use of it after I’m gone.”

Cilly swallowed. It was a warning, she knew it was, and one she would do well to heed. She would, she promised herself. Having children was not the be all and end all, not if he loved her and allowed her to be a part of his life. But that meant trust, and trust took time. He had already given her far more than she had any right to expect, bearing in mind she had forced his hand. It was too easy to rewrite the future and pretend they were just any other courting couple, but they weren’t. She had manipulated him, trapped him, and had given away any right to expect anything at all from him when she did so.

But Gideon and Hetty had married for love and even spoke about having a family. The realisation jolted through her. How was that possible for them, but not for Damian?

“Damian,” she began, only for anything else she might have said to die at the look in his eyes.

“Let us just enjoy today for what it is, Celia.”

He sounded tired and sad. She understood that too well not to give him the respite he needed.

She nodded and turned her attention back to her bowl of ice. “So, which is your favourite, then?”

“Favourite?”

She used her spoon to point at his bowl. “Which flavour do you like best?”

He smiled, considering this as he met her gaze. “All of them.”

She laughed. “There, you see? You are as greedy as I am.”

“I never denied it.”

They finished their desserts and Damian stood, holding Cilly’s chair for her and guiding her from the terrace.

“Thank you, Lady Cecilia, Lord Rivington, I hope you’ll come again,” Mrs Fairway said warmly as she opened the door for them.

“Thank you, we certainly shall,” Cilly promised her.

Mrs Fairway nodded, pleased, lowering her voice as she bent to whisper to Cilly. “And don’t you pay no mind to all those nasty tattletales. I know a love match when I see one. You just be happy and prove all of them wrong. That’s the best revenge there is, you know.”

The words were so touching, and so kindly meant, that a lump formed in Cilly’s throat. She reached out and squeezed the woman’s hand, smiling, for she could not have spoken a word.

Damian gave her an odd look but escorted her back down to the promenade. They walked in silence for a short while, heading towards the shops.

“What was all that about?” he asked once they were alone again.

Cilly considered telling him, but knew he would only make a sarcastic comment, so she shook her head.

“Keeping secrets already, are you? I see what kind of wife I am gaining,” he remarked, but whilst she knew he was teasing, there was an edge to his words she did not like.

Was that what he expected of their future, that they would keep secrets, live separate lives?

“If you must know, she told me to ignore the gossips, because she knew a love match when she saw one. She said we should be happy, for that would be our best revenge.”

She managed not to tag a provoking ‘so there’ onto the end of the sentence, but only just.