Sunday dawned wet and miserable, which dampened the spirits of all the houseguests. Most of the company stayed indoors and played parlor games, and Eleanor made an effort to join in with her usual enthusiasm.
Damon, however, remained aloof and withdrawn the entire day. And on Monday she saw nothing of him at all. He never appeared at breakfast, and when there was no sign of him at luncheon, Eleanor decided to search for him.
When she went upstairs and tapped on the connecting door between their rooms, she discovered his manservant in Damon's bedchamber.
“I believe he is out riding, milady,” Cornby responded in answer to her question about Lord Wrex-ham's whereabouts.
Eleanor glanced out the windows where a steady stream of rain was drizzling down. “In
“He prefers to be alone sometimes. Especially today.”
“What is today?”
“The anniversary of his brother's death, my lady.”
That intelligence jolted her. “”Oh,” she said rather inadequately. “I didn't realize.”
“His lordship does not like to speak of it.”
Eleanor frowned as a thought occurred to her. “Cornby, Lord Wrexham had a severe nightmare the other night. Would that have anything to do with his brother's death?”
“I expect so, my lady. He always has bad dreams at this time of year.”
“Dreams of his brother dying?”
“Regrettably, yes.” The valet hesitated before adding with some reluctance, “His lordship usually spends a great deal of time riding, driving himself physically- I believe in order to make himself weary enough to keep away the nightmares. Although that does not always suffice.”
Cornby's revelation greatly dismayed Eleanor. “Did he give you any indication of when he might return?”
“No, my lady. Sometimes it is before dark, but sometimes it is late into the night.”
“So this has happened before?”
“Regularly, my lady. It is a yearly ritual with him.”
Her dismay only increased. Was Damon still punishing himself for being unable to save his brother? Eleanor wondered with a heavy heart.
It was then that Cornby's occupation caught her attention. He had paused respectfully when she entered the room, but now she realized he'd been occupied in tapping a small wooden cask and filling a crystal decanter with a dark amber liquid that looked and smelled like brandy.
“I suppose he plans to drink that when he returns?” she asked.
“Yes, my lady. I have standing orders to have a sufficient quantity of brandy on hand each year for the sad occasion.”
It concerned Eleanor that Damon hoped to find solace in an alcoholic stupor, but the reason for his nightmares distressed her more.
She waved a hand at the cask. “It is alarming that he is still tormented by memories. His brother died many years ago.”
“Yes, but I believe his lordship's grief was greater than normal, considering how close they were. Sometimes, apparently, there is a bond between twins that is not present between most siblings. It was difficult for Lord Wrexham to watch his twin waste away, suffering such terrible pain. I suppose you could say it devastated him.”
Eleanor winced inwardly, imagining how agonizing it must have been for both brothers. Of course Damon was still haunted by his twin's death. And he was enduring his grief all alone. She hated to think of it.
“I wish there was something I could do to help,” she said, her voice low and earnest.
“Perhaps there is, my lady.” Cornby was not immediately forthcoming, however. When Eleanor gave him a searching glance, he added quietly,”I dislike betraying Lord Wrexham's trust in me by speaking of him out of turn.”
“Please tell me, Cornby,” she urged, badly wanting to understand her husband better. “I am his wife now, but you know him better than anyone.”
The elderly manservant nodded yet still looked uncomfortable when he spoke. “I think perhaps it might do his lordship immeasurable good if he could unburden himself to a confidant. Of course it is not my position to advise you, but perhaps if you could speak to him…”
Eleanor was extremely glad to see that Cornby had his lord's best interests at heart. “I will indeed speak to him, Cornby. Thank you for suggesting it.”
The valet hesitated again. “My lady… perhaps… that is, you should not feel slighted if his lordship rebuffs any attempts at discourse. He is not one to let others close.”
“You are extremely loyal to him, are you not, Cornby?”
“Yes, my lady. I am devoted to him. But he has earned my devotion. He is a fine master… and a fine man.”
She smiled faintly. “I agree with you-and I thank you for serving him so well.”
The valet bowed low. “It is my duty, my lady, but my pleasure also.”
Cornby had given her a good deal to think about, Eleanor mused as she returned to her own bedchamber, and she was very grateful to him.
It was crystal clear to her now why Damon was determined to let no one in, even her. Especially her, perhaps. Because the loss of his brother had affected him so profoundly, he was bent on shunning any future intimacy for fear of enduring that devastating grief again.
The thought made her heart hurt.
She also couldn't help thinking of their broken betrothal two years ago. Had Damon turned to his mistress so as to purposely drive
It was possible.
But the past concerned her less than what to do now. What happened to a man when all his grief was bottled up inside him? The pain escaped in nightmares, that was what. Unless it had another outlet.
She needed to speak to Damon about his feelings, Eleanor decided as she left her own room and moved down the corridor to return downstairs. But would he allow her to? He'd spurned her recent efforts to console him and might very well do so again if she attempted to make him talk about his brother.
In fact, now that she considered it, Damon had never shared any of his real feelings with her in all the time she'd known him. He'd buried his emotions grave-deep and doubtless wanted to keep them buried.
Well, she would just have to change his mind, Eleanor resolved-and she could not use Fanny's tactics to do it, either. Until now she had relied on the courtesan's counsel for guidance, but this was a time when she needed to follow her own instincts. There had been enough of mating games between them. What Damon needed was a friend.
Strengthening their friendship would go farther than trying to arouse his desire for her, Eleanor concluded. She was still determined to make Damon fall in love with her-and to make certain he had no reason to want a mistress when he had her for his wife- but she intended to rely on her own intuition rather than an instruction manual.
Still stewing, she rejoined the company, but she felt almost hopeful as she spent the next several hours forming a plan.
Damon didn't make an appearance at dinner, although Eleanor knew he had returned to Rosemont; the stables had informed her, as she'd requested.
If anyone noticed his empty place at the table, they didn't question her about it. But Eleanor couldn't forget. Even with Marcus and Arabella and Tess there to distract her, without Damon present, the evening seemed rather interminable. She kept watching the ormolu clock on the hearth mantel, wondering if he was drinking himself into oblivion to keep the haunting memories at bay.
After the tea tray had been brought into the drawing room later that night, Eleanor slipped away and went
