Page 87 of Wicked By Design

“Yes, are you?”

Her grandmother nodded, smiling at Nichols, who discreetly left the room to give them privacy. “Yes, I shall be glad to get home. What with staying at Ealdor and then here, I’ve been away for too long, though it has been a wonderful summer.”

“And so eventful,” Cilly added with a laugh.

Her indomitable grandmother grinned and nodded. “I had a feeling something wonderful might happen if we came here, but I must confess, I did not know what I was putting in motion.”

Cilly went to her, clasping her hands in her own. “Thank you, Grandmama. Thank you for always being an ally to me and to Hetty. Hart, too. We all adore you, I hope you realise, and you must come and stay with us whenever you wish. Damian made me promise to tell you he said so too.”

The old lady snorted. “Yes, because he felt safe enough to be sure I would stay with Maria. Don’t be foolish, you silly girl. I know better than to impose myself on newlyweds, but perhaps in a year or two, if I am still alive and kicking, when there are grandchildren to coo over.”

Cilly’s heart gave a painful thud, but she smiled and kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “I shall look forward to that day then,” she said, her voice a trifle unsteady.

She knew it would take time for her to fully come to terms with the future, but she had meant her words to Damian. It pained him too, and so she could never hold his decision against him. Besides, she wondered now about the possibility of adoption. It was something they ought to consider, but not yet. They had years to enjoy just being a couple and she meant to make the most of them. Damian had already changed so much, accepting her not only into his life but his heart too. That was so much more than she had expected at the beginning, so who knew what further surprises might await them. For now, it was enough that they were moving into their beautiful new home, that their nights together were passionate and loving, with Damian finding ever more inventive ways to bring them both pleasure. With every day that passed, the bond between them grew ever stronger.

She had more than many women could ever dream of, and so if fate did not grant her more, she would be a fool to allow it to spoil her life. Not everyone was blessed with children, after all, but with the right partner it need not be a tragedy, simply the chance to live a different life. They’d be able to travel, for example, something Cilly would never dream of doing if she had children in tow.

“That’s everything, my lady,” Nichols said, coming back into the room.

Her grandmother smiled at her. “And my carriage will be here shortly, so I had better get myself ready to leave. I shall call in upon Hetty on my way, but you take care of yourself, Cilly, my dear, and that husband of yours. You know, I think he may turn out to be a rather good fellow after all.”

Cilly laughed, embracing her grandmother and giving her cheek a soft kiss. “He is the very best of men, Grandmama, that much I promise you. Safe travels, my dear.”

“Thank you, Cilly, and good luck to you.”

Cilly watched her go and then took one last look around at the beautiful room which had been the backdrop to such wonderful changes in her life. Turning to the window, she gazed out at the sea. It was grey today and sombre, with tiny white horses frothing on the waves, yet it still soothed her heart to look upon it.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Whatever the future brings. Thank you.”

Damian smiled at Mrs Fairway as he handed back the keys to the suite of rooms that had been his home on and off for the past summer.

“Thank you, Mrs Fairway. It’s been delightful. The rooms are perfection and the food beyond compare. I promise you we shall return often.”

“Especially for the ices, if I know anything,” the lady said with a chuckle.

Damian smiled, certain his expression was one of a besotted husband, and finding he did not care. “Quite so. Lady Rivington is rather partial to them.”

Having paid their bill, he bade Mrs Fairway a good day and strode out of the hotel, intending to make his way up to Hatherley Hall to see how Celia was getting on with packing up the belongings she had left there.

He made his way through the town and up the hill, following the winding lane until All Saints’ church came into view. Here he paused, turning to study the vicarage. It was a handsome house, elegant and yet homely, welcoming. It suited its proprietor down to the ground.

Damian hesitated. He told himself it was foolishness, that no matter how kind the man’s intentions, there was no magical solution to be offered him. Perhaps, though, the reverend could help him carry the burden of guilt that sat so heavily in his gut. He knew that what Celia had told him was true. She would never blame him, never reproach him, and never ever hate him for his refusal to give her a family. But that did not stop him from feeling like a bastard every time he denied her.

Loving her was a gift, but every night had become an exercise in self-restraint, and it was killing him.

Damian walked towards the house, placed his hand on the gate, and then changed his mind. He was about to turn away when a jovial voice hailed him.

“Lord Rivington, what an unexpected pleasure. Come in, come in. You are just in time for tea.”

With no easy way of escaping, Damian turned to find Reverend Honeywell beaming at him. “I wasn’t… I was only—”

He sighed and gave an awkward laugh.

“Perhaps we’ll put a dash of something in the tea,” Honeywell suggested, his eyes twinkling.

Damian nodded. “That would be good. Thank you.”

A very short while later, Damian found himself sitting in a comfortable armchair with a plate of biscuits and cake balanced on one knee and a cup of tea on the other. The reverend was on his hands and knees, rummaging in the depths of a dark wood cupboard, his voice somewhat muffled.