Dominic's Nemesis

by D. Alyce Domain

  “Eden?”

  “Hmmm…” She answered, passion-dazed.

  “Where did these bruises come from?” Dominic pulled out of her reach, walked around to face her and get a better look at them.

  Incandescent hazel eyes blinked, confused, shifting around in restless search of him. His form remained cloaked.

  “The entity from the other night made them.” She aimed her voice in his general direction.

  “There was no one. I would have seen a second essence when I approached you.”

  She shook her head vehement. “For some reason, I have yet to work out, you cannot sense it. I can. It attacked me.”

  Dom recoiled from her words. They were damning evidence of her declining mental state. He tried to steady his shaking hands, glad that she could not see the horror on his face. He reached out and touched the damaged skin at her throat.

  “Eden, please.” The entreaty surfaced from a deep grave of fears, long buried but never forgotten. “I want you to meet my brother, Cael. He will visit the estate before the week is out, and I would like you to speak with him.”

  “The other doctor?”

  “Yes, Cael is a doctor for the mind.”

  “Why is it imperative that I meet him?” She asked. Stark pain swam in her eyes.

  “I fear you are not well, and I—”

  “—don’t want to become involved with a lunatic?” She finished the sentence for him.

  He winched at her candor, and retracted his hand as if bitten. A knock at the door saved them both from an awkward moment. Eden immediately tugged her sagging bodice up to cover her breasts.

  “That’s just Nell with breakfast.” He informed her.

  She stared from his invisible form to the closed chamber door, with an awe-struck expression. “You can see through walls when you’re like this?”

  “No.”

  “Then, how…”

  “I told her to bring a tray up to your chamber.” He explained.

  “Why?” She asked, curious. “Did you think I wouldn’t come down to breakfast?”

  “I needed her to interrupt us, so I’d have a reason to stop.”

  “Oh.”

  Dominic watched the frown form, a childish confusion clouding her features. “Must we stop, then?”

  “We’re not married. It’s improper.”

  “Are you that much concerned with propriety, Dominic?” She shot the empty space where he was a dubious glance.

  “No.” He admitted on a woeful sigh. His insides twisted, turning, this way and that, his heart constipated by frustration, indecision, and doubt.

  “Then, it’s my supposed insanity that you find so vexing and un-beddable? Is that right?” This she said with angry sarcasm.

  “Miss?” The maid called through the door. “Are you awake?”

  “Yes, Nell, one moment.” She refocused her attention. “Can she see you? Sense you as I do.”

  “My brothers and you are the only persons I’ve come into contact with that are able to call me out.”

  “In that case, be silent.” Before he could know her intention, she called through the door. “You may enter now. I am…decent.”

  Despite her wish to stay him, Eden knew the instant the door opened and she felt the soft touch of his lips at her temple that in the next instant he would be gone. And he was.

  Chapter 18

  Eden was surprised when not two but three of Dominic’s brothers turned up at the noon meal, along with herself and Kathleen. Even Dom made one of his rare appearances in the dining hall. Despite the crowd the conversation often limped to a halt and consisted mostly of the weather and mishmash about Ethan and Kathleen’s future bundle-of-joy. The newcomers, introduced to her as Cael and Stephan Atherton, were not what she expected. They resembled one another greatly, barring a few scattered details, but neither looked even the tiniest bit like either Dominic or Dr. Raine.

  The one called Stephan ate very little and spoke even less, choosing instead to brood over each course before waving a hand to order it away. Intrigued, Eden angled to catch his eye only to have him unsettle her with a fathomless scrutiny until she reddened and broke contact. Cael, the one she’d agreed to meet, possessed a pleasing deportment. He chatted, smiled and joked when appropriate and seemed to aim at easing the awkward burden of several unacknowledged elephants lumbering about the room. Eden was glad of his presence. Otherwise, the prickly atmosphere, writhing with tensions and secrets, would have choked her just as surely as a noose around her neck. When, at last, the ax dropped and the captives scattered to freedom, Eden found herself on the nervous end of a liquid smile.

  “Miss Prescott.”

  “Dr. Atherton.” She twinned her curtsey with a nod. “I understand it’s you I have to thank for my life.”

  “Oh please, I don’t stand upon formal manners. And, I’d like to think that we all have a little hero in us.” He chuckled at the thought, as he took her arm into the crook of his. “Might I be so bold as to invite you on a stroll to the portrait library. Have you seen it?”

  “No. I didn’t even know there was one.”

  “Well, my brother is an abominable host, so I cannot say as I’m surprised. He probably left off showing the wine vault as well.” He lowered his voice to conspiracy level. “Sour grapes.”

  Eden fought with a smile, but it won. She did not want to like him because he’d been forced on her. As his steered her up two flights and down a succession of ubiquitous hallways she had a feeling she was being finessed out of her dislike, with a natural sort of grace, but finessed all the same.

  “He tells me you’re an artist.”

  “Yes, I sketch.”

  “Would you mind terribly if I begged a peek at your work?”

  “You have an interest in the arts?” She kept her tone light and her face forward. “Dom painted you as strictly a man of science.”

  “My work consists of the mind’s science, thus I crave more artistic pastimes. A man cannot live by bread alone.”

  She conceded with a nod, as he stopped them in front of a camouflaged door, with only a knob to distinguish it from the wall’s wainscoting. “Is there a bell-pull in the portrait gallery, do you know?”

  “Not unless Dom had one installed recently.”

  “Oh. I was going to have one of the maids fetch my sketches.”

  “I’ll wait. It’s no bother.”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t been paying much attention to how we arrived here.” Eden confessed. She was too caught up in trying to puzzle him out. He did not treat her like a mental case, but Dominic must have discussed her peculiarities with him.

  “Ahhh. I’ll walk you back to the stairs.”

  From there, Eden ran down to retrieve her sketches, not dreading the meeting so much anymore. Truth be told, Atherton presented a challenge. She found herself anxious for his opinion of her works. Perhaps if she were shrewd, she could finagle some information out of him.

  * * *

  The first sketch was of Kathleen in the gazebo. Eden watched as recognition dawned, but he made no overt comment on the quality of her talent.

  “Did you know, Ms Prescott, that the brain is the most complex organ in the body?”

  “It seems logical that it would be.” She agreed, as she shuffled along past a much-mounted wall in the portrait gallery.

  Framed portraits in varying size and shape adorned every conceivable inch of the mile-long walls, as many of landscapes as of persons. The central space housed free-standing room-dividers covered with still more oils of people and places. The towering faux walls left off in certain spots to make room for an odd divan or two. Atherton rested upon one such luxury. Eden estimated it would probably take several hours to view each and every rendering in the gallery, so rest areas were a clever idea.

  Next, he flipped to a dodgy scribbling of Dr. Raine. Eden squirmed.

  “The chin is all wrong.” He proclaimed. “An admirable effort, but obviously done without benefit of a sitting
.”

  “The doctor never tarries here long enough to pose for a portrait.”

  “He is absent a lot then.”

  “Almost constantly, returning more to check on his wife than Dominic or I.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Not particularly, but you asked.”

  He lowered the sketches to his lap, and tilted her his first personal inquiry of the day. “Tell me, do you still consider yourself in need of a doctor…or would you say you’re completely healed.”

  “I require neither yours, nor your brother’s services, Dr. Atherton. I do, however, want to allay Dominic’s concerns. He specifically asked me to see you in this capacity. I wouldn’t have otherwise, even were I as mad as King George.”

  Atherton chuckled. And Eden got the distinct impression the head doctor approved of her. “I did wonder if he appraised you of my true reason for coming here, speaking to you. Forgive me for being circumspect, but it took me a while to ascertain that you were indeed aware and in compliance with my assessing your…eh, “

  “Mental prowess?”

  “Yes, I like that.” He nodded and went back to the sketchbook.

  Eden saw the chance to sneak in a question of her own. “Outside of height, you don’t look anything like Dominic or the other doctor.”

  “Dominic and Ethan resemble our mother. Stephan and I do not.”

  “What about the other two? Kathleen said there were six.”

  “Gideon and Gabriel. Actually, there’s an oil of them in this gallery somewhere. Perhaps we’ll come across it.”

  Intrigued, she followed with a second question. “Were the six of you not reared together?”

  “Miss Prescott, this meeting is about you. If you wish to know more about Dominic’s childhood, why not just ask him.”

  “He won’t even show me his face, and you think he’d discuss his childhood with me.” Eden scoffed. “You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”

  “His eyes, yes, but I’d known him for two years before he allowed me the privilege. He’s known Kathleen four and she still thinks they’re sensitive to the sun or some such nonsense. I wouldn’t back him into a corner about it if I were you.” Cael flipped to the next page in the sketches. Eden could tell by his sudden stillness and the new look of interest that he’d come to the series of sketches she’d done on Dominic. He turned another page, Dominic without his specs, another, again Dominic without his specs, her colored speculations.

  “I see you have been curious.”

  “He told me the condition is trifold.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Why is he so phobic about it?”

  “That is a question even I would like the answer to.” He glanced up at her then, by now she hovered next to him to gauge his reactions to her work, all pretense of viewing the gallery forgotten. His gaze, the same liquid amber as the sphinx-like Stephan, blazed into her, burning away the superficial to get at her inner most thoughts.

  She broke off first as she had with his brother. “I don’t believe you know much more about Dominic than I do, Dr. Atherton.” Eden couldn’t help making her words a half-accusation.

  “Since you seem bent on discussing him, I’ll make you a deal.”

  She conveyed her interest with an arched brow.

  “You answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours.”

  * * *

  Dominic wasn’t sure what approach he should take. He’d never really ceased thinking of Stephan as a child. Now seemed an appropriate time to promote him to adulthood; he’d made two and twenty his birthday. With his recent manifestation—of what, Dom didn’t know—Stephan would have to brazen out a new path. Whether he cared to accept it or not a conventional life lay beyond his reach.

  They strolled in the stone garden at the back of the house. Winter had not yet relinquished its bitter hold, so many of the flowering plants weren’t in bloom.

  Dom tilted his gaze. His slightly taller height and copper hair were Stephan’s main distinction from Cael.

  “Please don’t stare as if I am some stranger who just happens to resemble your brother. Even though I have maimed and nearly killed, I’m still me.”

  “My apologies.”

  “Cael suggested this?”

  Dom noticed that his words were a statement.

  “Ethan. I actually think it shocked Cael. But I wouldn’t have extended the invitation unless your being here suited me.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Dom frowned. The younger man should have already been apprised of the situation, particularly since a good deal of it concerned him. “Cael hasn’t spoken about Gabriel? Montgomery’s threats? Greyson?”

  “He may have.” His shrug belied the seriousness of his next words. “My ability is quiet only when I am passive, numb almost, so I have taken to avoiding stimulus…of any kind. Cael is frustrating, and I don’t wish to hurt him. But existing in a stupor grows old, and tiring. Even that I worry about. Could fatigue light the fuse again and consume those around me? Or anxiety, if I worry overmuch?”

  Ahhh, Cael had spoken of Stephan’s remoteness. Though he hardly needed the memory to register his youngest brother’s much-altered demeanor. “But you are comfortable talking to me.”

  “Yes.”

  “No twinges or volatile emotion?”

  “None.”

  Dom nodded. “Excellent. A coping strategy.”

  For the first time, Stephan, turned to eye him head-on. “Is that why she’s still here? The woman, I mean. She helps you cope.”

  Dom bristled, but the reaction only sparked more scrutiny from amber eyes burning with curiosity. “Her name is Eden.”

  He nodded. “When Ethan introduced us, I remember thinking the name apt. Her presence, it calmed the thing within me. It took me a while to realize it was her. A serene wind, that’s the only way to describe it. I wished I had been seated adjacent her instead of across, perhaps then I could have participated in the conversation.”

  “She is affecting me as well.” Dominic marveled, suddenly keen for Cael’s assessment and desperate for it to be optimistic news.

  Just then, the clack of footsteps against cobblestone echoed. Both brothers turned to receive the slow-gaited Renfred around a weed-choked flowerbed.

  “Master Ambrosi, message just arrived, sir.”

  Dom accepted the square-fold communiqué hesitantly. “How was it delivery?”

  “By special carrier.”

  “Will he wait for a response?”

  “No, sir. The barer departed almost immediately.”

  “Thank you, Renfred.”

  “Gideon?” Stephan supposed after the butler had departed.

  Dom eyed the small parcel in his hands as if he were afraid it would bite him. “I have never received a written message from Gideon in my life. Have you?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never received a written message from you either.”

  * * *

  Eden paced away, giddy. She had stored up a wealth of questions during her two-week sojourn, and hardly knew which one to pose first. Pivoting around, she came to stand in front of him.

  “Anything? You’ll tell me anything I want to know?”

  A thought flashed in his eyes before his unreadable facade returned. “Anything that doesn’t violate a confidence.”

  “Fair enough. I agree.” She posed the first question, not sure how long her good fortune would last, she decided on the most controversial. “Does Dominic have a network of scars marring his torso, either in front or at his back?”

  Atherton had returned his attention to the makeshift sketchbook, only to freeze amidst flipping to the next page. “No. What would prompt such a question?”

  “I…” Eden hesitated. She wasn’t supposed to have seen him without his shirt, now she’d have to admit to it or risk his thinking her a loon. “An accident. I tumbled from the ladder in the library and Dom caught me. In the midst of untangling ourselves, I saw the scars…But when I asked how h
e got them, he denied it.”

  Eden did not like the focused amber pinning her in place. The scrutiny reminded her of the Sphinx. “So, you do see things. I wondered.”

  She sagged, that was a ‘no’. At least now she knew, the scars truly were her own imaginings. She’d been so sure that he was somehow hiding them from her. Maybe she needed Atherton’s services after all.

  “What kinds of things have you seen?”

  “People, strange happenings. Distortions of reality.”

  “Be more specific, Ms. Prescott.”

  Eden inhaled deep, and dropped down beside him on the divan, suddenly weary. “On the day that you found me half-drown in the marsh. Whilst I stood on the brink, desperate for a reason, any random inclination not to succumb to my grief, an image formed just under the surface of the water…a woman and her infant called to me. My first thought was that they were drowning and I ought to save them. I don’t know what happened then, but the next thing I knew the water had me. And then later I awoke here, with Dr. Raine attending at my bedside.”

  “Hmmm. Were the faces familiar at all?”

  “No.”

  “Are the…visions…frequent?”

  “Very.”

  “Tell me about this vision the other night.”

  She felt her spine toughen up. So, Dom had enlightened his brother about a good many things. “That was not a vision, and I have the bruises to prove it.” She snatched the shawl from her shoulders, indignantly. The doctor gave the discolored skin at her neck the briefest glance, but exhibited no discernable reaction. Strange. She had expected him to gasp or interrogate her about the bruising. When he continued on without incident, she re-adjusted her cover-up.