Chapter 20
From her seat on the bench, Ellie stared up at the weathered features of the elderly gentleman. His pale blue eyes held a kindly look. He extended his knobby fingers to her in greeting.
But she could not lift her own hand to shake his. A paralysis held her body in place as if she were trapped in a nightmare. She desperately wanted to run, yet her limbs refused to move. Her heart thudded so hard against her rib cage that she felt light-headed.
She must have misheard. Reverend Mr. Ferguson … to officiate over your marriage …
She glanced up at Damien. His hard-edged face was forbidding, his mouth a thin slash. There was no surprise in his expression. He must have already been told of the minister’s purpose in being here. And his displeasure could not have been clearer.
Yet he offered no protest.
Her gaze shifted to Lady Milford, who stood beside her, and then back at the minister. He had reached inside his dark coat and brought forth a small black prayer book. To perform the marriage service.
A second shock reverberated through Ellie. This was Scotland. There were no banns to be read, no special license to be procured, no waiting period in which to talk sense into Lady Milford.
The ceremony could be conducted at once. Right now.
Fright energized her. Ellie jumped up from the bench, swaying slightly as she caught her balance. “No,” she whispered, then much louder, “No!”
The word echoed off the stone walls of the great hall.
With sharp footfalls, Damien closed the distance between himself and Lady Milford. He glared down into her patrician face. “There is your answer, my lady. Your interference is entirely unnecessary. Miss Stratham will not be harmed by this scandal so long as she moves far away from London gossips. As to her family, perhaps they deserve to suffer for their ill treatment of her.”
“And what of your family?” Lady Milford murmured. “What of Lily? Does she deserve to suffer?”
Damien went very still. His face looked like granite. In a tautly soft voice, he stated, “You will leave her out of this. She is none of your concern.”
The exchange bewildered Ellie. It was as if she’d fallen asleep at a play and then awakened in the middle of another scene. “Who is Lily?”
The two of them paid her no heed. They continued to stare at each other, Lady Milford in that regal manner of a queen, Damien tense and grim-faced.
“Lily is involved whether you like it or not,” Lady Milford told him. “She will be tainted by your actions. It is one thing to own a gaming club frequented by gentlemen, to carry on discreet affairs, even to seduce an impoverished lady before deigning to wed her. But it is quite another matter entirely for people to whisper that you’ve lured a second innocent lady into sin—this time, without offering her the benefits of marriage.”
He made a sharp move of his hand. “Nonsense. It’ll all blow over eventually. There will be no permanent harm done.”
“Can you be so certain of that? Are you willing to risk your daughter’s future on a prideful whim?”
Ellie could not believe what she was hearing. She tried to put their words together in different ways. But they all came out to the same, inescapable conclusion. “Damien … you have a daughter?”
His steely gaze cut over to her. “Yes. But she’s merely six years of age. So it’s ludicrous to suggest that this incident will taint her.”
Feeling an odd detachment, Ellie studied the boldly sculpted angles of his face. She had thought—believed—that she’d come to know him well in the space of a few days together. They had laughed and talked and traded details about their lives. They had lain naked together and had shared intimate caresses. But all the while, he had kept a secret from her. He had not told her that he had a daughter.
What else didn’t she know about him?
He was suddenly a stranger to her again. A cold, aloof man that she had never truly known. The Demon Prince.
Lady Milford turned to place her hand on Ellie’s arm. “My dear, I know all of this has come as a shock. But you must consider what is best for all parties. The scandal can be greatly diminished by portraying your disappearance with Mr. Burke as an elopement. Then society will come to view it in a romantic light, and people will be more forgiving. That is why the only sensible solution for both of you is marriage—”
Damien and Ellie both interrupted at once.
“No, you’re wrong,” he began.
“I’d sooner wed a … a filthy rat.”
Picking up her skirts, Ellie took off at a dash. She couldn’t remain in the great hall for a single moment longer. She refused to let herself be coerced into bondage to Damien Burke. The lump in her throat grew larger. She would never surrender her independence, especially not to a man of his ilk, a gambler and a rogue.
Yanking open the door, Ellie nearly collided with someone. It was Finn, carrying a large wooden tray. The cups and cutlery rattled as he quickly straightened his load to keep it steady. She smelled a whiff of freshly baked scones and fruit jam.
The servant’s blue eyes twinkled at her. They seemed to say that he knew in whose bed the master had spent the night. “I’ve brung tea, milady. But why are ye leavin’…?”
Ellie didn’t stay to hear the rest. Pushing past him, she hurried out into the cold sunshine, her quick steps swiftly carrying her through the large courtyard of the castle. Her half-boots splashed in the puddles. The icy water and snow splattered her stockinged legs as she ran toward the stone archway that led to her tower bedroom.
No sooner had she entered the shadowed passage than she paused, her thoughts awhirl. The last place she wanted to go was her own chamber, where the sight of the tumbled bedsheets would bring back vivid memories of Damien and their activities of the previous night. Nothing could be more abhorrent. She felt sickened by her own na?veté in thinking they were close friends. And she was aghast at the notion of being obliged to speak her vows to such a man.
She turned blindly down another passage. There had to be somewhere to hide. To stay out of sight until they all went away, Lady Milford, the minister, Damien, even the MacNabs. It would be preferable to starve to death, or die of cold, than to give up her dreams in order to become the wife of a scoundrel.
And a stepmother. Damien had a daughter. Lily. A little girl whom he hadn’t bothered to mention. Granted, maybe the opportunity had not arisen …
Or maybe it had.
On the day he’d learned about her illustrated book, he had made the comment that young children liked shorter stories. What can you know about children? she’d scoffed. You, who spend your time playing cards and wagering on dice at your gambling den?
Damien had glanced away, his expression brooding. He’d had the chance right then and there to tell her … but he hadn’t done so.
And why should he have? He was merely her abductor. Nothing more. She had been utterly imprudent to forget that.
Ellie took a ragged breath as the knot in her chest pulled tighter. The castle felt like a prison, and she longed to be gone from here, never to think of him again. She wanted to be off this island without delay.
The rowboat.
Belatedly, she realized that the beach should have been her destination. She could tell the oarsman that Lady Milford had dispatched her on important business in town and that he must take her there straightaway. Yes. By the time everyone finished their tea, she could be disembarking at the dock and seeking a way back to London …
Intent on the new scheme, Ellie spun around. But an alarming sight met her eyes. Damien strode toward her down the passageway, the greatcoat flapping around his long legs. The sound of his booted footsteps had failed to penetrate her stupor until this moment. His face was an austere mask, cruelly handsome and sternly resolute.
In a panic, she ran in the opposite direction. It was a foolish act, for he easily chased her down and caught hold of her arm to bring her to an enforced halt. “Ellie, wait.”
She whirled toward him. With both hands, she shoved hard at the wall of his chest. “Go away! I won’t marry you!”
He took a step backward, his palms up. “Good God, I should hope not. I would make a terrible husband. Do you think I’m here to persuade you otherwise? You may rest your mind on the matter.”
“Then why did you follow me?”
“Because I had no wish to remain in Lady Milford’s company, either. The woman is a blasted busybody, just as she’s always been.”
“Always been?”
“This isn’t the first time she’s meddled in my life. A long time ago, she warned me to stay away from Veronica.”
Ellie was intrigued in spite of herself. He looked moody and livid—exactly the way she felt, too. “Are you saying that Lady Milford forced you to marry back then, as well?”
“No. Her warning came before I seduced Veronica.” He gave Ellie a belligerent stare. “But just so you know, I’m not sorry I didn’t listen to Lady Milford that time. I have no regrets. If not for my misdeeds, I wouldn’t have Lily.”
Ellie matched his glare. “Ah, yes. Your daughter. The one you’ve abandoned for more than a week while you carried out your abduction of me.”
His scowl turned thunderous. “Are you accusing me of neglect? I left Lily in the excellent care of her governess and nursemaid, along with a full staff of loyal servants.”
“And what if it had been my uncle in that rowboat—with an officer of the law? What if you’d been arrested for kidnapping me? Who would have watched over Lily if her father had been imprisoned?”
Damien glanced away. Combing his fingers through his hair, he gave her a surly look. “If I’d captured Lady Beatrice according to plan, Pennington would have moved heaven and earth to hide the scandal. There would never have been the slightest danger of involving the police. But … your point is taken. I should have considered all possibilities.”
Ellie refused to be mollified. “Doesn’t Lily have relatives on her mother’s side? Surely she would be better off in the care of family.”
“They disapproved of Veronica’s marriage and wanted nothing to do with her daughter, either. I’m afraid that Lily has only me.” He gave Ellie a piercing stare, then began pacing back and forth in the narrow corridor, the click of his heels echoing off the stone walls. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her. It’s just … habit, I suppose. I’ve done my best to protect Lily, to safeguard her from gossip. She lives in my house in Kensington, and I’ve a strict rule about never inviting any guests there. Most people don’t even know she exists.”
“Yet Lady Milford knew.”
“Devil take that woman! She’s the sort who always has her ear to the ground for tittle-tattle. But I will not allow her to interfere in my life. Nor will I permit her to use my daughter as a weapon to control me.”
At the fierceness in his voice, the zealousness of his manner, Ellie felt a reluctant softening in her heart. There could be no doubt that he truly loved Lily.
Or at least as much as a wicked scoundrel was capable of love.
She fell into step beside him. “Lady Milford is a harbinger of doom, I should say. She’s someone who paints the most dismal picture possible in order to manipulate one’s thoughts and actions. Imagine, trying to make me feel guilty about the effects of the scandal on my family!”
“It was Walt who told a barefaced lie about your character. The dastard deserves to be horsewhipped.” Damien uttered a self-deprecating chuckle. “And myself, too, for involving you in this tangled web. Believe me, I rue the day that I conceived the harebrained scheme of kidnapping his sister.”
From out of nowhere came the memory of Damien spying on Beatrice from his carriage as she’d flirted with Lord Roland outside of Lady Milford’s house. The girl would enjoy no more encounters with handsome young gentlemen, Ellie realized with a pang. At least not in the near future.
Irked with herself, she suppressed any sympathy for her cousin. “Well, it isn’t my fault that Beatrice will have to wait another year to be launched. Or that she shall likely be forced to retire with the family to the country until this blows over.”
“Quite so, you must not blame yourself for any of that.” They reached an archway and, by tacit agreement, turned in unison to pace back down the corridor. He went on in a clipped voice, “And if it takes only one year for the scandal to die down for your cousin, then I can’t see why it would be any different for Lily. She’s only six, for pity’s sake. There’ll be more than a decade before I need to think of her season.”
Matching his steps, Ellie looked up at him in surprise. “You wish for her to join society someday? To marry into the gentry?”
Damien slid a cautious glance at her before nodding. “I’ve been cultivating friendships with several gentlemen who are members of my club. Already, there have been a few invitations here and there to card parties and the like. I hope to regain a measure of acceptance eventually. Not for my own sake, but for Lily’s.” He paused, then added darkly, “If that’s even possible anymore.”
Would he find acceptance after despoiling the Earl of Pennington’s niece? Ellie wondered uneasily. Or would her uncle see to it that Damien was reviled for the rest of his life—and Lily by association?
She shook off the disquieting questions. “Surely this scandal will be long forgotten ten years from now,” she said lightly. “By then, no one will even remember the name of the governess you lured into sin.”
Damien stopped pacing, so she did, too. He was frowning at the wall as if stricken by an unpleasant thought. He brought his troubled gaze back to her. “But if you’re forgotten … that means you won’t be a famous author.”
She attempted a laugh. “Well, perhaps I won’t be famous, though I certainly hope my books will enjoy a modest success.”
“Will they?” His hands came down heavily onto her shoulders. “Something just struck me, Ellie. I’ve made you notorious in the eyes of all society. What if no publisher of children’s literature is willing to purchase manuscripts from a woman who dallied with a rogue?”
A chill slid down her spine. She shook her head in denial. “Then I’ll write under a nom de plume. No one need know who I am.”
“But you can’t hide your real name from the publisher. He would have to know your identity for the purposes of correspondence and record-keeping, contracts and the issuance of bank payments.” He gave her a look of intense worry. “I know how businessmen think, Ellie. There won’t be a publisher in all of England who will invest money in a project if he thinks people may boycott it. And what decent parent would purchase a book written and illustrated by a fallen woman?”
Queasiness assailed the pit of her stomach. “It can’t be that bad. It just can’t be. As we both said, it’ll all blow over eventually.”
“And if it doesn’t? What then?” His green-gray eyes bored into hers. Abruptly turning away from her, he raked his fingers through his hair again. “Good God, Ellie. I’ve not only ruined your reputation, I’ve ruined your life’s work. And quite possibly, Lily’s future, as well.”
Ellie tilted her head back against the wall of the corridor and tried to resist the intrusion of harsh reality. Yet a bone-deep shiver shook her. Everything he’d said was frighteningly possible—if not probable. All of her toil, her dreams, her hopes … gone. Oh, she could still draw, but her illustrations would only be for herself. She wouldn’t ever have the chance to see her books in print, to take pride in earning her own way, or to know that children everywhere were enjoying her stories.
She flattened her palms on the wall behind her. The stones felt icy against her bare hands, as bleak as her prospects. If only life was like her book, she could rip out the offending pages and reconstruct the events to her liking. She could throw away the day when she had taken her cousin’s appointment at the modiste’s shop. She could toss the whole mistaken abduction into a rubbish bin, and none of this would have happened. She would not be facing the stark choice of ruin … or wedlock.
But it had happened. Reality could not be changed. And there was no denying that fate had backed her into a corner.
She returned her gaze to Damien and found him watching her. Though his jaw had a rigid set, his green-gray eyes held a certain stoic awareness. He knew, as she did, what had to be done.
She gave him a fierce stare. “I do not want a husband.”
He matched her glare. “I swore never again to take a wife.”
They both fell silent, looking at each other. The drip-drip of water echoed hollowly somewhere down the passageway. Now more than ever, he appeared intimidating, overwhelming, larger than life. How much did she really know about him? He was a gambler just as her father had been. Would Damien, too, end up beggaring himself, turning to drink in order to escape his failings? The very thought stirred panic inside her.
She couldn’t allow herself to become too entangled in his life. Nor could she let herself be smothered by the demands of being his wife, of having no time for herself or her artwork. If circumstances forced her to wed him, Ellie thought in desperation, then it must be on her terms.
She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “This marriage will be in name only. I will have my independence. And my cottage in the country, exactly as we’d agreed.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You want us to lead separate lives? Fine. That will suit me perfectly well. But we will share a bed on occasion. That is my stipulation.”
In the midst of her turmoil, Ellie felt a traitorous softening in her body. A deep throb of heat assailed her womb. She had a keen awareness of all the places he had touched her the previous night, including a pleasant ache between her legs. Three times he had ridden her—and the bliss had been glorious.
He stood watching her now with a hint of conceit in the set of his mouth, as if he knew that she still desired him. It angered and frightened her to be so tempted by him. This was not how she had planned her life. Ellie feared that if she gave in to his demand, it would be harder to leave him. How could she continue to share such intimacy with him and not risk losing her heart?
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to voice an outright refusal.
“You will not claim the rights of a husband without my consent,” she stated coldly. “And at the moment, I am not of a mind to grant it.”
He frowned slightly. His hooded gaze studied her for another moment before he gave a nod of acquiescence. “As you wish, then. We have a bargain.”