endearments, but his intense protective-ness was obvious when he skewered Damon with a glance, although he was polite enough when he shook hands and introduced his own new wife, Arabella.
But Marcus took the first opportunity to pull Damon aside from the company and offer a warning. “I'll cut out your liver if you hurt my sister again, Wrexham.”
Damon returned a faint smile. “If I hurt her again, you won't have to cut out my liver. I will do it myself.”
Marcus regarded him for a long, grim moment, before finally giving a brusque nod. Apparently he was willing to adopt a wait-and-see attitude and allow Damon to prove himself.
His restraint was, in part, a testament to their former friendship. The two of them had known each other since their boarding school days. Damon had regretted losing Marcus's high regard after his broken engagement to Eleanor. He had few close friends, and the ones he did have, he cherished.
Arabella, Lady Danvers, was a bit more welcoming than her new husband, although still reserved in her greeting, making it clear that she was privy to Damon's history with the family.
Her fondness for Eleanor, however, was evident, her manner warm and engaging when she commiserated with Elle about the strangeness of finding oneself married.
“Oh, I so agree,” Eleanor heartily assented, sending Damon a provocative glance. “I have yet to become accustomed to the novelty.”
“There must be something in the air,” Arabella jested, “that is causing this current epidemic of matrimony. I certainly never expected that I and my sisters would succumb all at once, or that you would follow so closely in our footsteps, Eleanor. A pity that Roslyn and Lily cannot be here. We could have had a celebration to commemorate the extraordinary circumstances.”
Both Arabella's sisters, Damon knew, were still away on their wedding journeys and so would not be attending the house party.
Arabella was also far warmer to Tess. Over the course of the afternoon, he came to realize that the two women shared a close friendship. They laughed and chatted together with Eleanor all during luncheon, and continued during the drive to the beach afterward.
Despite the overcast sky and brisk breeze, Eleanor's aunt had refused to change her plans and postpone the arranged excursion, evidently expecting the weather to obey her will. Thus, a half dozen carriages were soon making their way south toward the sea, with the viscountess, of course, chaperoning the new-lyweds in her equipage.
When Tess expressed a desire to go sea-bathing, saying it would be invigorating, Eleanor agreed but Arabella objected, so a spirited discussion ensued about the wisdom of swimming when a storm threatened.
Damon was exceedingly glad, however, to see Tess coming out of her shell after the loss of her betrothed two years ago. In truth, he hadn't seen her this animated in all that time.
Eleanor, he noted, was her usual lively self, although she ignored him for the most part-except when he handed her down from the carriage. Then she smiled at him with such entrancing warmth that he felt sunstruck.
Yet she refused his help negotiating the rocky cliff path down to the sea. Damon was left to offer his assistance to the other ladies of the party. By the time he reached the shingle beach, Eleanor, Tess, and Arabella were far ahead, strolling arm in arm beside the water.
They made a picturesque sight, Damon thought, with the fresh sea-breeze catching their skirts and rifling the ribbons of their bonnets. It was a pleasure to watch the three beauties enjoying themselves so avidly, and to hear their musical laughter as they danced out of reach of the surging waves to avoid getting their half-boots wet.
Prince Lazzara was apparently of the same opinion, for he gave an appreciative sigh when he caught up with Damon.
Yet the prince's expression soon turned quizzical. “I am holding to my promise to keep away from your ladywife, milord, but you have no such reason to avoid her. Or is Lady Wrexham the one who is avoiding
The question, although voiced with humor, was mildly taunting, and Damon had to bite back a retort. “My wife is relishing the company of her friends, your highness, and I mean to allow her the freedom to continue.”
“Hmmm,” was all Lazzara said. A moment later, he added slyly, “In truth, I confess myself astonished. With your reputed skills as a lover, I expected you to know the first commandment of
“And what is that, your highness?”
“Females wish to be wooed. You will never win her favor if you hold back in this detached way.”
“So you are suggesting that I woo my wife.”
“But yes. It seems a seduction is very much in order.”
Damon was only faintly amused at the irony of Lazzara giving
Celibacy, Damon thought with a wry grin, was a painful condition indeed when one had an exquisitely beautiful wife sleeping alone in the adjacent bedchamber every night.
His opportunity to change his circumstances came some half hour later. Damon had kept an eye on the storm clouds accumulating overhead, but the rain came up suddenly, bursting from the skies in shockingly cold gusts.
By the time the revellers had hurriedly ascended to the top of the chalk cliff and piled into the waiting carriages, they were all hopelessly drenched, their clothes plastered to their bodies.
Damon remained outside until all the passengers were accounted for. When he settled beside Eleanor, she murmured a breathless “thank you,” then leaned closer to whisper in his ear.
“You are soaked to the skin,” she added, her voice quivering with suppressed laughter, “just like the time I pushed you in the fountain.”
“If I remember correctly,” Damon whispered back, “that incident was far more pleasurable because of what preceded it.”
At his reference to their first kiss, Elle smiled again at him, the kind of smile that could stop a man's heartbeat.
When she promptly shivered, Damon badly wanted to pull her against him and warm her with his body heat, but her aunt was watching them with an eagle eye, so he settled for accepting a woolen blanket from the coachman and draping it around Eleanor's shoulders.
The drive home took longer in the downpour. And even though an army of Rosemont footmen hurried out with umbrellas in a futile effort to provide shelter for the guests, they were chilled to the bone.
Eleanor hastened upstairs to change out of her wet attire. Damon followed her more slowly, but it was only when he entered his bedchamber that he struck upon an idea to alter the sleeping arrangements that Elle had insisted upon.
Cornby, bless his heart, had lit a fire in the hearth, and the room was pleasantly warm.
His valet was also dutifully awaiting him, but once Cornby had helped him to remove his wet coat, Damon dismissed him, saying, “I can manage from here. I would rather you perform a small commission for me instead.”
Damon strode to the small writing desk in one corner of the room and scribbled a note, folding it once.
“Here,” he said, handing the missive to Cornby, “pray take this to Lady Wrexham and then make yourself scarce.”
“Very good, my lord.”
The valet's expression never changed, but somehow he looked pleased, as if he approved of his master's plan to woo his new ladywife.
With the help of her abigail, Eleanor had removed her soaked gown and damp corset by the time a polite knock sounded on her bedchamber door. While Jenny went to answer, Eleanor peeled off her clammy garters and stockings and muttered an invective at herself, lamenting her foolishness in taking a seaside jaunt with a storm
