Chapter 21
As Ellie accepted Damien’s assistance in stepping out of the hansom cab, she lifted her gaze to the stone mansion. For a moment she could only gawk in surprise. The impressively large house had a pleasing symmetry of design with tall windows and a columned portico. The afternoon sunlight glinted off the many chimneys in the tiled roof. Her new home—her temporary home—was situated on a sizable plot of land and surrounded by a stone fence. White and yellow crocuses filled the front beds. The trees were just beginning to set their leaf buds so early in March, but she could imagine the tranquil beauty of the landscape filled with the greenery of spring and summer.
The property was located in the borough of Kensington, on the far side of Hyde Park. Ellie found that she preferred this quiet area with its separate homes to the crowded town houses of Mayfair. Here, there was the illusion of living in a rural setting, yet they were only a short carriage ride from the myriad entertainments of London, the shopping and plays and museums.
Not that Ellie had any plans to be gadding about town. No. She intended to dedicate her time to working on the illustrations for her book until Damien could procure for her the promised cottage in the country. He had assured her that the household servants were extremely efficient and would not require any supervision. She would be free to do as she pleased.
Yet Ellie didn’t feel free. She felt edgy and anxious about her brief stay here. How would Lily react to her father bringing home a new wife? Would the little girl want Ellie to be a mother? Damien had said that his daughter spent most of her time in the nursery under the care of a well-trained staff. And he had specifically instructed Ellie not to interfere.
Well, then, she wouldn’t. It would be better that way. She had her own interests to pursue.
She waited while he paid the driver of the hansom. They had come straight from the docks, and she felt windblown and sticky from the salt air. By contrast, her husband looked elegantly groomed in a tailored gray coat, his crisp white cravat a perfect foil for his strikingly masculine features and coal-black hair.
Her husband. Thinking of Damien that way still caused a quake inside her. Four days ago, they had been wed in the chapel of the castle, with sunlight pouring through the ancient, stained-glass windows on either side of the stone altar. The minister had read the service with Lady Milford and the MacNabs in attendance. Reciting her vows, Ellie had felt rather like an actress in a play. There had been a sense of unreality about it all, as if it were happening to someone else.
When Damien had brushed a chaste kiss over her lips, she had been too numb to react. She had feared he might ignore their agreement and press his attentions on her that night. But he had not kissed her since then. He had made no advances at all toward her during the voyage back to London. Each night, she had slept alone in the single bunk, the motion of the waves rocking her to sleep. By day, she’d wrapped herself in a warm cloak and sat on deck, sometimes sketching, sometimes observing the activities of the seamen or staring out at the endless blue water. Often, she’d had lively conversations with the MacNabs, who had accompanied them back to London.
Damien had been cool and polite. He had kept himself busy at his account books or directing the sailors at various tasks. And he’d patiently answered her many questions about the ship. Believing him to be merely a gambler, she’d been surprised to learn that he owned a small fleet of vessels that were used for shipping goods to England from various ports in the Mediterranean and elsewhere.
Now, as the hansom cab drove away, he strolled back to her side. His mouth curved in a smile that didn’t quite reach his green-gray eyes. Ever since their wedding, his face had become an impassive mask again, shuttering his thoughts. Nevertheless, Ellie felt a lurch of attraction. There was an ache deep inside her, a desire to be held by him, to hear him whisper words of love in her ear. How very rash it would be to indulge herself. She had insisted on a marriage of convenience. And it had to be that way if ever she hoped to live as an independent woman.
She suddenly longed for a familiar face. “Where are the MacNabs?”
“The baggage cart will drive around back to the mews.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we go inside?”
Striving for composure, she curled her fingers around the crook of his arm. A footman stood at attention on the porch, holding open the front door. They proceeded up a set of wide steps and entered the house. Ellie had a quick impression of an airy, two-story entrance hall with cream-painted walls and a gracefully curving staircase to one side. A crystal chandelier sparkled in the sunlight that came through the tall windows on either side of the door.
A dignified butler with neatly combed brown hair stood waiting, along with a wiry, middle-aged woman who must be the housekeeper. The ring of keys at her waist jangled slightly as she bobbed a curtsy.
Their gazes flitted to Ellie. The servants’ grapevine must be buzzing with rumors of the master’s latest misdeed, she realized with a faint flush. Did they even know that it had been an abduction? Or did they believe the gossip that the Earl of Pennington’s niece had run off with the Demon Prince to live in sin? Perhaps they were wondering why the master had brought his new paramour home rather than discreetly setting her up in a separate house somewhere else.
It was too soon for anyone to have learned of the nuptials. Lady Milford, who had traveled to Scotland in her coach, had intended to stop to visit friends on her way back to London. She could not yet have begun her campaign to dispel the rumors that must be titillating all of society.
The manservant bowed. “Welcome home, sir,” he said, accepting Damien’s coat while the housekeeper took Ellie’s cloak and bonnet. “I trust you had a pleasant journey?”
“Indeed so,” Damien said. “More than pleasant, in fact, since I’ve brought back a new wife.”
He kept his hand at the base of Ellie’s back while he made the introductions, and she found the possessive gesture somehow comforting. The butler was Kemble, and the housekeeper Mrs. Tompkins. Though both had impeccable manners, it was plain by their smiles and words of felicitations that they were genuinely delighted by the news.
Ellie felt like something of a fraud smiling and accepting their congratulations. Little did they realize this marriage was a sham. Their new mistress wouldn’t be staying here for long. As soon as the cottage could be procured, she would be moving out of this grand house for good. What would they think of that? What excuse would Damien tell them? That his wife had wearied of him already? And what would society have to say about the unusual situation?
Perhaps it would revive the rumors about his first wife’s untimely death. Perhaps people would whisper that no true lady could abide marriage to the Demon Prince.
As troubling as the prospect might be, Ellie pushed it from her mind. Damien had freely made the agreement with her. If there was any awkwardness, it would only be his just due for creating the scandal in the first place.
While he was inquiring with the butler about any messages that had arrived during his absence, a commotion on the upper landing drew Ellie’s attention.
A small figure clad in a powder-blue gown and white pinafore came flying down the staircase. “Papa, Papa, I saw you from the nursery window! You’re home!”
Damien’s face lit up with a genuine smile. He strode to the bottom of the stairs and caught the little blond girl up in his arms. “Who is this wild urchin running through my house without any manners at all?”
She giggled, patting his cheeks with two small hands. “It’s me, Papa. Lily! Don’t you remember me?”
He pulled back to scrutinize her face. “Ah, so it is, indeed! You’ve grown so tall in my absence that I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Don’t be silly. Miss Applegate says that I’ve grown only this much since last month.” Lily held up her forefinger and thumb to indicate a fraction of an inch.
“Well, I’m sure that Miss Applegate must be correct. Perhaps it is my eyesight that needs checking. Now, I have someone that I would like for you to meet.”
Carrying Lily in his arms, he came toward Ellie. The warm smile on his face diminished somewhat as he approached. She was sorry that it did. She had only seen him smile in so relaxed a manner a few times back at the castle, mostly when they’d laughed over his inventive efforts to turn Prince Ratworth into the hero of her story.
And when they had made love.
Now, however, he looked wary, guarded. As if he would have preferred to avoid this introduction entirely.
“Lily, may I present my wife. She is…” He paused, giving Ellie a penetrating look. “Your new stepmother.”
The sprightly girl took one startled glance at Ellie and promptly hid her face in the side of Damien’s neck. She peeked out shyly, her eyes big and blue. A tumble of golden hair framed the exquisite features of a china doll, though with a smudge of jam at the corner of her mouth.
Ellie’s heart melted. It was clear the girl seldom encountered strangers. Damien had said that he kept his daughter out of sight as protection from the gossips. How confusing it must be for her to be presented to someone new without any warning. Having never known her own mother, Lily very likely had no notion what a stepmother even was.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Lily. I do hope that we might be friends. Do you mind if I fix your ribbon? It’s come undone.”
The girl gave a little shake of her head. She was clinging to Damien’s neck for dear life. Ellie pulled out the loosened white ribbon in the girl’s hair. Using her fingers, she gently combed the golden tresses into a smooth waterfall, then retied the bow to keep the girl’s long locks down her back. “There, you’re right as rain.”
A tiny burble of laughter came from Lily. “Right as rain. What does that mean, Papa?”
“It means that you look presentable again, and not like an unruly scamp,” Damien said, as he used his thumb to wipe the jam from the corner of her mouth. “It’s just a silly saying.”
Lily thought for a moment. “Like when Miss Applegate says that I must be neat as a pin?”
“Yes, like that. And speaking of your governess, I had better take you back upstairs right now before she discovers you’ve escaped.”
As if on cue, an older woman with a lace cap over her graying hair appeared at the top of the stairs. Beginning the descent, she apologized profusely. “Good gracious, sir! I’m ever so sorry. I left the dear child at her reading while I went to fetch a book from the library. One moment she was there, the next gone!”
“Never mind, Miss Applegate. I’ll bring her up to you at once.”
Damien started toward the stairs with his precious cargo still nestled in his arm. Almost as an afterthought, he turned back. “Mrs. Tomkins, perhaps you’d be so good as to show Mrs. Burke to her chambers. I’m sure she’ll wish to freshen up and have her tea.”
Then he mounted the stairs, leaving Ellie feeling oddly bereft. She would have liked to have gone with them to the nursery. Damien probably wished to see the progress of Lily’s lessons during his absence, and to catch up on all the happenings of the past fortnight.
Ellie was curious to view the schoolroom for herself. Having been a governess for many years to her two younger cousins, she felt a keen interest in Lily’s schooling, too. And she could admit to feeling an affection for the girl already. Who wouldn’t fall instantly in love with such a delightful child?
But Damien had not invited Ellie upstairs to the nursery. Clearly, he wanted to discourage any closeness between her and his daughter. He’d said that protecting Lily was his primary concern. So perhaps it was only natural that he would want to prevent his little girl from being hurt when her new stepmama moved away forever.
* * *
The housekeeper led Ellie along an upstairs corridor, the thick carpet muffling their footsteps. Near the end of the passage, Mrs. Tomkins opened a door. “Here we are, Mrs. Burke. I do hope you’ll find the accommodations to your liking. Though we were not warned of your arrival, never fear, everything will soon be put to rights.”
“You mustn’t fuss,” Ellie said quickly. “I’m sure it will be perfect.”
She stepped into a dimly lit bedchamber that was larger than any of the bedchambers at Pennington House, including her uncle’s. The shadowed furnishings appeared to be dainty, with a four-poster bed, a writing desk against one wall, and chairs draped with dust covers. The housekeeper headed straight to a bank of windows and drew back the tall draperies. As the afternoon sunshine poured into the room, it was like adding watercolor paints to a pen-and-ink drawing.
Awash in delight, Ellie turned slowly around to survey the décor. The palette of leaf green and buttery yellow made her feel as if the outdoors had been brought inside. She admired everything from the cozy armchairs by the white marble fireplace to the luxurious carpet with its subtle pattern of yellow roses to the high ceiling with its decorative moldings. She had never thought to be given such a lovely room.
What had she expected? On the journey here, she had devoted no more than a passing thought to Damien’s house. But to her chagrin, Ellie realized now that at the back of her mind, she had pictured a gaudy bordello filled with heavy dark furnishings and crimson hangings with ornate gold fringe.
How wrong she had been. Based on what she’d seen of the rooms on the way upstairs, the entire house appeared to be done in a tasteful style that was both comfortable and inviting.
“You’ll find there’s a grand view of the gardens from here,” Mrs. Tomkins was saying as she adjusted the green silk curtains. “The tulips and daffodils will be blooming soon. It’s always such a pretty sight.”
Ellie knew that she was likely to be gone before the spring flowers opened. Nevertheless, she went to the windows to peer outside. “Oh! It is lovely.”
Instead of a more traditional geometric design, the landscaping gave the impression of a woodlands setting, with stone pathways meandering past beds where spikes of greenery already pushed through the soil. Benches had been placed here and there, where one might sit and sketch on a quiet summer afternoon.
A wistful longing came over her, but Ellie swiftly quashed it. She would have her own garden by summer, outside her very own cottage, where she could be alone to concentrate on her storybook. And that was exactly the way she wanted it.
The housekeeper bustled around the chamber, twitching off the dust covers from the chaise longue by the window and then from the bed. “If you’ll permit me, Mrs. Burke, may I say that it’s such a pleasure to finally have someone occupying this chamber.” She clucked her tongue. “I feared—well, we all feared—that after suffering such a tragedy, the master would never again see fit to marry.”
Struck by an uncomfortable thought, Ellie turned to look at the woman with her plain features and friendly brown eyes. “Was this her bedchamber? His first wife?”
“Oh, nay, ma’am. It was shortly after her sad passing that the master purchased this house and had it refurbished from top to bottom.” A fond smile touched her mouth. “Miss Lily was just a babe in arms back then, and he wanted the dear child to have a happy home in which to live.”
It was a happy home, Ellie realized. There was a sense of tranquility here that she had never noticed in her uncle’s house. Of course, there she had been relegated to her tiny chamber up in the nursery, with no fire to warm her in the winter and a stuffy closeness in the summer. And there, she had been little better than a servant, always at the beck and call of Beatrice and their grandmother …
A young housemaid in a white mobcap entered with an armload of linens. Seeing Ellie, the girl bobbed a curtsy. Then she immediately set to work making up the bed with its feather pillows and embroidered silk counterpane.
“This is Harriet,” the housekeeper said. “She will assist you until a proper lady’s maid can be hired.”
Ellie was appalled to think of acquiring a personal servant who would have to be let go again in a matter of weeks. “I won’t need much help. I’m sure Harriet will do just fine.”
Mrs. Tomkins gave her a strange look before carrying the towels into the dressing room. Coming out again, she said, “I daresay you’ll be wanting to freshen up after your voyage, ma’am. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a bath drawn for you. It should be ready in a few moments. Unless you’d care for your tea first?”
“A bath would be lovely,” Ellie said.
How peculiar it felt to be waited upon. At home, she would have gone down to the kitchen herself to fetch the tea. But in this house, she occupied a high status. Why did she feel that she didn’t deserve it?
Restless, she wandered through the bedchamber, looking at the china figurines on a side table, the ormolu clock on the mantel, the elegant writing desk with its cubbyholes empty of pens and paper. She couldn’t shake a vague sense of being an interloper. These were not really her belongings. They had been selected by a decorator and meant for the lady of the house. Damien’s wife.
She was Damien’s wife, Ellie reminded herself.
But was she truly?
They had married for the sake of expediency, to silence the gossips by placing a veneer of respectability over his abduction of her. By mutual agreement, they would lead separate lives—except for her short stay here. They had never intended to remain together as husband and wife.
A true marriage to Damien would require a commitment of the heart. She didn’t see how that could ever be possible. He was a gambler, a scoundrel, a womanizer. He had earned his notorious reputation as the Demon Prince.
Yet he loved his daughter to distraction. His servants held him in high esteem. And the one night Ellie had spent in his arms had felt right and good, so perfect it seemed now like an impossible dream.
Desire for him simmered inside her. She wanted Damien to hold her close, to caress her body, to share her bed. Yet he had not come to her in the four days since their wedding. Was he merely abiding by the rules she had set for him?
You will not claim the rights of a husband without my consent. And at the moment, I am not of a mind to grant it.
There had been nothing welcoming in her words. He had probably decided it was easier just to stay away from her. And perhaps it was better that way. Allowing herself to grow accustomed to his nightly lovemaking would only soften her heart and make it more difficult for her to leave here.
Would he seek his pleasure elsewhere, then? In a discreet affair with another woman? The very thought set her teeth on edge. Ellie had to draw in several deep breaths to calm herself. And she had to remind herself that she had no real claim on his fidelity.
Resolutely, she marched into the dressing room to take her bath. He had every right to lead his life as he pleased—and so did she. They had made their devil’s bargain. It served no purpose to pine for what could never be.
* * *
Damien could hear someone splashing in the bath next door.
Stripped to the waist, he stood before the washstand and mixed his shaving soap. Having assured himself of Lily’s happiness, he intended to go to his club for the evening. There undoubtedly had been business problems that had arisen during his long absence. And he wanted to look over the account books to see that everything looked satisfactory.
Yet his gaze kept straying to the door reflected in the oval mirror.
The door that connected his dressing room to Ellie’s.
The splashing sounds set fire to his blood. He imagined her sitting naked in the brass tub, perhaps drawing a sponge over those magnificent breasts. Her hair would be loose and wet, her lips moist, her face damp and rosy. She would soap her hands and reach beneath the water to give herself a thorough washing between the legs …
Muttering a curse, Damien snatched up the shaving brush and spread the foamy lather over his face. Then he took the long razor and drew it carefully over one cheek. Watching himself in the mirror, he tried to block out the enticing noises coming from next door.
It was an impossible task. He wasn’t used to hearing someone in that dressing room. No, not just someone. Ellie. His wife.
His very reluctant wife. She had made it clear that she did not want a husband. Like him, she’d felt compelled to marry, she to avoid a scandal that would destroy her dream of having her books published, and he to protect Lily’s future. They had come to a mutual agreement.
You will not claim the rights of a husband without my consent. And at the moment, I am not of a mind to grant it.
The sound of humming joined the watery splashing. She sounded relaxed and happy, a fact that made him all the more disgruntled. Ellie, apparently, didn’t mind that they weren’t enjoying the privileges of being husband and wife. He should never have allowed her to dictate the boundaries of their sexual relationship. She was too damned determined to be independent.
Their one night together had magnified his hunger for her. It was more than just physical gratification that he wanted. He craved the closeness that they had shared, the sense of intimacy that had bound them when he’d shared his inmost secrets with her. He wanted Ellie to love him in spite of the darkness in his past.
Ah, hell. All he needed was an outlet for his carnal appetites. A vigorous bout of bed sport would clear his mind of these mawkish sentiments. The trouble was, no other woman appealed to him but Ellie.
What would she do if he threw open the door right now? If he took the soap and began to wash every inch of her lovely body? Would she respond with fire and passion? Would she abandon her opposition to being his wife and invite him into her bed?
“A wee bit o’ spit an’ polish can work wonders.”
Damien felt a sharp sting as he nicked himself. He scowled at the bandy-legged servant who was walking in from the bedchamber. Finn displayed a pair of shiny black boots for his master’s inspection.
“Blast it!” Damien growled, tilting his head to examine his jaw in the mirror. “You startled me.”
Finn handed him a linen towel. “If ye’d have a seat, I’d be happy t’ finish up fer ye.”
Damien blotted a droplet of blood. “The day I can’t shave myself is the day you lower me into my grave.”
Chuckling, Finn set down the boots and went to the wardrobe to lay out a set of evening clothes. Damien finished shaving and then used the towel to wipe a few stray bits of soap from his face.
He could no longer detect any splashing next door. Had Ellie heard them talking? Surely she must have. It occurred to him that maybe she hadn’t realized until now that their dressing rooms were adjoining. He grinned at the thought. Maybe she was sitting in the cooling water of the tub in a state of alarm, staring at the door and wondering if he might walk in on her at any moment.
His theory was corroborated when he perceived a few slight noises through the closed door, as if Ellie was trying to make a quiet escape. There was the faint squeak of wet bare flesh on the tub, the slither of water, the muffled thump of one foot, then the other on the floor.
He imagined her reaching for a towel, wrapping it around that damp, lush, womanly form. His groin tightened painfully, and he had to discipline himself to keep from going to her. If Finn wasn’t here …
Now he could hear two voices in the next room. Ellie must be conversing with her maid. Damn! He couldn’t woo his own wife when they were surrounded by an army of servants. But one thing was certain, he’d had enough of this marriage of convenience.
To hell with celibacy.
Ellie had not given him an outright refusal to allow a physical relationship. She’d merely said that it would be her decision when it happened. Well, then, he was going to seduce his wife. He was going to make Ellie beg him to join her in bed.
Not tonight, for he would be gone late at his club. But soon. Very soon.