Abducted by a Prince (20 page)

Damien paused to draw a deep breath, shifting his moody gaze back to the fire. “Late one night, I returned from an evening spent drinking in a local tavern with friends. I was leaving the stables, walking toward the house, when I glanced up and saw her. She was wearing a white nightdress. And she was standing on the edge of the roof.”

Ellie’s throat tightened. Her skin prickled with apprehension. She suddenly dreaded to hear what he had to say.
“No.”

His voice flat and emotionless, he went on, “I realized later that it couldn’t have been a coincidence that I was there to witness her actions. Veronica must have been waiting for me to come home. Perhaps she climbed out onto the roof when she heard my horse coming up the drive. All I know is that when I shouted her name, she stepped off the roof. I ran to catch her … But I was too late.”

Aghast, Ellie reached out and covered his hands with hers. The look on his face was so bleak that she knew no words to offer as comfort. So she merely stroked his fingers, wishing there were some way to erase the grisly memory from his mind. His wife had taken her own life, and Damien clearly blamed himself. Ellie couldn’t fathom the grief and guilt he must have borne all these years.

No wonder he’d reacted so strongly to seeing her lean over the parapet. He must have been transported back to the moment of seeing his wife perched on the edge of the roof. He had relived that horror through Ellie, only this time, he had reached her in time. He had pulled her close and uttered fervently,
Thank God, you’re alive. Thank God, you’re safe.

Had he been thinking of his wife when he’d kissed Ellie? Had she been merely a substitute?

Ellie pushed the questions away. How selfish to dwell on her own needs at such a time. “I’m so sorry, Damien. I never knew—”

“No one knew. I concealed her suicide.”

In an abrupt withdrawal, he surged up from the chair and paced across the circular chamber. He stood there with his back turned to Ellie. He combed his fingers through his hair, ruffling the black strands. He looked so tormented that her heart turned over in her breast. She ached to go to him, yet sensed he would reject any acknowledgment of his anguish. After giving him a moment to collect himself, she murmured, “How did you conceal it?”

He turned slowly. Once again, his features showed only a detached remoteness. “Finn had heard me shout her name. He came running. But Veronica had died instantly. There was nothing to be done for her. Finn said people would whisper that I’d killed her, pushed her off the roof myself. I’d be wrongfully imprisoned for murder. In my distraught state of mind, I agreed to let him arrange matters so that it would appear as though she’d been trampled by a horse.”

His voice grew heavier. “I convinced myself that I was doing it to protect her character. There were still a few whispers that I’d murdered her, but I suppose that was only to be expected given the circumstances of our forced marriage. However, most people treated me with all the respect due a grieving widower. And as the weeks passed, I began to realize that
I
was the one being protected. I was never held accountable for causing the despair that made Veronica take her own life.”

Ellie could see his point. From start to finish, his marriage had been a terrible disaster. It would never have happened if not for his disgraceful behavior. But he already knew that, so who was she to berate him more than he’d already done to himself?

And she couldn’t help but wonder why Veronica had felt such extreme despondency. Even if she’d been as delicate and shy as Damien had described her, and had had difficulty adjusting to the forced marriage, that was no reason to give up all hope. Why had she not found a useful occupation to lend purpose to her life? Perhaps she could have done needlework for the poor or prepared baskets for the sick. In such a circumstance, Ellie herself would have taken solace in her drawing. And she would have
made
Damien behave himself.

Her ankle ached from the uncustomary position on the floor. As she prepared to rise by bracing her hand on the chair, Damien was there in an instant to help her to her feet. “Lean on me,” he ordered. “I shouldn’t have allowed you to kneel so long. You ought to be in bed with your foot up.”

As he slid his arm around her waist and guided her across the room, Ellie glanced up at his sober features. No matter how much he painted himself the villain, she couldn’t imagine him being purposely cruel to his wife. “I agree with Finn,” she said. “I cannot see what good would have been accomplished by revealing the truth.”

Damien scowled as they stopped beside the bed. “You don’t understand. I should have been there that night. If only I’d stayed at home, perhaps—”

Ellie placed her finger over his lips. “Perhaps you’ve punished yourself enough, Damien. You can’t change what happened. None of us can. We can only try to learn from our mistakes.”

He gave her a grim look as he settled her on the bed. “But I haven’t learned. I ruined Veronica’s life, and now I’ve ruined yours.”

Watching him ease a pillow under her foot, Ellie felt the spark of a realization. This was her chance. The chance to present her scheme to him. She could not have planned it any better, for she had wanted to make him feel beholden to her so that he would comply with her wishes.

“Now that you mention it,” she said, “you
have
ruined my life. I very much doubt that I’ll be able to return home. My family isn’t likely to welcome me back considering I will have been gone for over a week in the company of a notorious scoundrel.”

Bending over her foot, Damien went very still. He cast a furious, incredulous look at her. “Are you angling for a marriage proposal?”

His mistaken assumption appalled Ellie. She had never anticipated him leaping to such a conclusion. When she had formulated her plan, she hadn’t known about his forced marriage. “No! Absolutely
not
! I only meant that you owe me reparations for abducting me.”

“Reparations.” He gave her a hard stare. The mattress dipped as he seated himself at the foot of the bed. “Explain yourself.”

She drew a fortifying breath, her fingers playing with the fringe on her shawl. It was time to reveal what she’d never told anyone else. “For a while now, I’ve been planning to leave my uncle’s house. That’s why I’ve been working on my storybook and hoping to sell it to a publisher. I need the income to live on my own rather than continue to stay there.”

“Why? Is it Walt? Has he made illicit advances toward you?”

Once again, Ellie was taken aback. Damien couldn’t possibly know that she often felt uneasy around her eldest cousin. “Well, he
does
stare at me … in a certain way. And…” She paused, recalling that last night in the nursery when Walt had grabbed at her bosom.

“And?”

“There was one time—only one—that he touched me, but I burned him with the candle I was holding and that was the end of it.”

Damien swore savagely under his breath. A muscle worked in his jaw as if he were struggling to master his anger. “And the others in the household? Have any of them mistreated you in any way?”

She hesitated. It felt disloyal to criticize her family. “Not really. I’ve always had a roof over my head and food on the table. When I was orphaned at fourteen, the earl was kind enough to take me in—”

“And he proceeded to treat you as an unpaid servant. Don’t deny it, Ellie. I’m well aware of Pennington’s reputation as a skinflint, and I saw how he garbed you in old sacks. I’m guessing he made you the household drudge and never paid you tuppence for your labor.”

Ellie bit her lip. Had her situation been so obvious? “It’s my duty to help the family. Anyway, I’ve always liked to stay busy. But I don’t wish to spend the remainder of my life doing someone else’s bidding.”

“So tell me, how exactly
have
you spent your days there?”

He was gently massaging her stockinged foot, and Ellie had to concentrate to keep her mind on the conversation. “Mostly, I’ve been governess to my two younger cousins. Now that Cedric is off at Eton, I’ve been chaperoning Beatrice, helping prepare her for her upcoming season. I also read to Lady Anne every day and do errands for the countess.”

“Ah, yes, old Lady Pennington,” Damien said with a cynical quirk of his mouth. “I recall that gorgon presiding over society parties. She’s your grandmother, is she not?”

“Yes, my father was the earl’s younger brother.”

“Then by God, she ought to have provided you with a decent wardrobe as befitting your rank. Were you granted a season at least? A chance to marry?”

She shook her head. “Actually not. You see, my father had enormous gambling debts that my uncle was forced to pay off. He said there was nothing left to pay for my come-out.”

“That miserly snake,” Damien snapped. “Your father’s debts were not your fault, Ellie. And Pennington is a wealthy man. He has more than enough to sponsor his own niece.”

The vehemence in his tone warmed Ellie’s heart. With a faint smile, she murmured, “You needn’t rub my foot quite so hard, you know.”

Looking instantly remorseful, he drew back his hands. “Forgive me. I was contemplating how I’d love to wring your uncle’s neck.”

She mustn’t feel all aglow inside when Damien had just proposed violence. Or regret that he was no longer touching her. “Well, I don’t suppose it matters anymore. I’m twenty-six now and quite content to be a spinster. Had I been given the opportunity to marry at eighteen, I might never have been inspired to compose my storybook.”

He sat against the bedpost with one foot braced on the floor. The gleam in those green-gray eyes made her heart beat faster. “Continuing your logic,” he said, “you also wouldn’t be here right now. With me.”

The glow settled deep in her core. It brought to mind that kiss … and the shocking pleasure of his hand stroking her bosom. Was he, too, remembering it? Ellie wouldn’t allow herself to think about that now. If she became distracted, she might lose this opportunity.

“And I wouldn’t be in such a pickle,” she said. “But since you
did
bring me here against my will, it seems only fair that you should compensate me for the damage to my reputation.”

His face sobered. “Are you certain the earl will throw you out on the street without any provision whatsoever? Is there no one in that blasted household who would care enough to help you?”

Thinking of her family, Ellie felt a pang. She had little faith in receiving any aid from her uncle, her grandmother, Beatrice, Walt … “Lady Anne would, I’m sure. But like me, she lives there on the earl’s sufferance and has only a bit of pin money.”

“Lady Anne?”

“The earl’s spinster sister-in-law. She’s no blood relation to me, but she’s always been very kind and appreciative that I read to her each morning while she sews.” Ellie stared defiantly at him. “I will
not
ask her for funds when she has so little herself.”

“I should hope not. Tell me, what is it you wish from me?”

His cool masculine features provided no clue to his thoughts. He might have been a businessman negotiating a hard bargain. Yet she felt no hesitation at sharing her dream with him. “I want to live in a cottage in the country. Someplace cozy and bright, where I might gaze out upon the garden while I draw. A home where I can work alone all day without anyone handing me an overflowing basket of mending, or ordering me to write out a hundred invitations to a party.”

He lifted a black eyebrow. “You want no one there with you? Not even a servant?”

“No one,” she said firmly. “I am perfectly capable of doing any necessary chores myself. You see, more than anything, I crave peace and quiet so that I might concentrate on my book.”

“And I am to provide you with this cottage.” He subjected her to a long scrutiny while she waited anxiously, her fingers twisting the fringe of her shawl. “All right, then,” he said, “I’m sure it can be arranged. I’ll direct my land agent to handle the matter upon our return to London.”

Ellie felt as if a vast weight had been lifted from her shoulders. For so long she had been worried about the future. But she mustn’t rejoice just yet. “You’ll also provide me with a small stipend to cover my expenses for the coming year.”

He chuckled. “Small? You need to learn lesson one in the art of negotiation—always ask for more than you really want.”

“I won’t play games, Damien. I only need enough to purchase food and other incidentals. Until I can sell my book.”

“And if you cannot procure a publisher? What will you do then?”

“I’ll take in students if need be. I’ll find a way to support myself. But I do hope that won’t be necessary.” The leather-bound notebook lay beside her on the bed. Picking it up, Ellie riffled through her newest drawings, the ones she’d sketched since her dispute with him the previous afternoon. “By the way, I’ve been thinking about the suggestion you made to me yesterday…”

He leaned forward, his gaze intent. “Ellie, you must allow me to apologize for that. I should never have presumed to pass judgment on a manuscript that I haven’t even seen.”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have,” she said tartly. “However, I’ve decided it’s a sound proposal, after all. It’ll take quite a bit of work, but it
is
possible to break the story into four or five separate books—perhaps more. I’ll have the leisure to work on the revisions once I’m living on my own.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then you do see the advantage of it?”

“Yes. I’ll know for certain once I can review the pages I’ve already done. I left them hidden in my bedchamber at Pennington House.”

Would Uncle Basil even allow her through the front door? Perhaps he’d already instructed the servants to refuse her admittance …

“Hidden?” Damien asked with a frown. “So your family knows nothing about your book?”

She shook her head. “They’d be horrified at the prospect of me selling my work to a publisher. Ladies never engage in commerce, you see. I did my drawing late in the evenings, after Beatrice went to bed. In the hustle and bustle of the day, when everyone was making demands on me, it was always my little secret, something that belonged to me alone.”