The Viscount's Vendetta (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Paige Cameron

  At the same moment Damon felt her tremors, his own explosive need for her sent him soaring into space. His orgasm hit him hard and long.

  After he’d rolled to her side, Damon held her close, brushing her damp hair away from her face. His hand slid through her long, wavy hair. He nuzzled her neck and looked up to find her smiling.

  “You have the most glorious hair I’ve ever seen. Don’t ever cut it.” He rubbed the strands between his fingers. “It’s one of the most seductive parts of your body.”

  Damon knew from her expression his words had brought her back to reality. She had reacted as though in a trance since he had entered her room. Now, she blushed and turned her face away from his searching eyes.

  “Too late for regrets, my dear,” Damon said. “You are as intrigued with my body as I am with yours. See, it’s not necessary to have love, lust will do just as well.” Damon knew his voice sounded harsh and angry. He didn’t care. He’d flinched when she turned from him.

  Caroline closed her eyes and tears slipped down her cheeks.

  Damon got up and carried her into her bedroom. He dropped her onto her own bed.

  “Sleep alone, my dear. No man wants a regretful woman beside him.”

  He felt Caroline watching him as he strode across the room to his door. “I’ll have your supper sent up. Forgive me if I have decided not to join you. I’ll eat downstairs with Charles. We still have much to discuss about him taking care of the estate while I’m gone on my trip to London.”

  Damon swore to himself and ran his hands through his hair. Once he had seen Caroline standing in front of her mirror with the thin material of her gown only emphasizing the beauty of her body, he knew he could wait no longer to make her his.

  He had not wanted to lose himself in her softness and her sweet giving, but he had. Then when reality returned to her, she had turned from him.

  He paced back and forth across his room. What did he want from her? She could tie him up in knots with one glance and make him want to wrap her up in his arms forever.

  “No.” He spoke sharply to himself. She made him weak. He did not want to care for her, only possess her. Tomorrow, he would leave for London. He’d make an excuse for his returning so soon. Time away from Caroline would settle him back into his comfortable way of life.

  Reaching for the decanter of whiskey, he poured a large tumbler full and took a swallow. He didn’t care about dinner. He would have a few drinks, sleep, and leave early in the morning.

  * * * *

  He didn’t see Caroline sit up in her bed and reach out. He had already turned, gone through his door, and shut it firmly behind him.

  She lay against the pillows and tried to understand what had happened. He was a complicated man and had frequent mood changes. How would they ever deal with each other in harmony?

  When the maid brought her tray, she was glad to see the glass of wine. She needed it to help her relax and sleep. In the morning she’d have more challenges to face.

  Caroline awoke with rays of sunlight coming around the edges of her drapes. The untouched dinner tray sat on a table by the window. She had drunk her wine, dressed in one of her white flannel nightgowns, and then curled up in her cold bed. She finally fell asleep in the early morning hours.

  She stretched, her body felt tender and sore in spots. Her face flushed with warmth remembering last night. She had shoved the silk gown into the bottom of one of her drawers. The cashmere shawl still lay on the back of the chair where she had left it last night.

  If only he had not arrived just when he did, when she was feeling so strange and vulnerable. She sat up and put her feet over the side of the bed, and brushed her hair away from her face. Touching her hair reminded her of how it felt when Damon had run his hands through it.

  She remembered every touch of his hands. Turning in response to the knock on her door, she saw one of the maids peeking in.

  “I have a hot bath for you, milady. Lord Royston said you would want to bathe when you awoke.”

  “Thank you, that would be pleasant. Is Lord Royston at breakfast?”

  “Oh no, milady. He left early this morning for London.”

  “Ah, yes, I remember he mentioned his trip last night.” I just didn’t expect him to leave so soon.

  Caroline sank gratefully into the hot water. She briskly washed her body and hair. After her bath she dressed in a light-green wool gown and sat by one of her windows looking out over the back gardens.

  Her maid came in and rubbed her hair with a soft towel to dry it and brush it to a shine. Another maid brought hot chocolate and muffins for breakfast, which Caroline had requested.

  The staff was very nice, but Caroline missed having someone familiar around her. She considered asking her parents to send Mary to be her personal maid.

  Yes, she would write them today. Mary could return with Damon when he came back from London. Meanwhile she needed to start acting like the lady of the house and taking charge.

  I know what I want to do while Damon is away. I’ll visit the ancestral home. On her ride yesterday, she’d seen a number of young children on the estate. I’ll check about starting a school for them. There may be one in the village, but I’d like one especially for them to include studies and music, nature, and art.

  Excitement pushed away her earlier uneasiness. She could keep herself quite busy on an estate this size. If Damon didn’t want to live in the ancestral home, why not turn it into a school? What a perfect idea. With a lighter heart, Caroline changed into her riding habit and went to the stables.

  “My lady, where are you going? I’m sure Lord Royston would not want you to go about without a groom.” Charles Royston stood looking across the yard at Caroline on the mare she had ridden yesterday.

  “I’m quite used to riding by myself, Mr. Royston. You need not concern yourself about my welfare.” Caroline spoke coolly to the man blocking her way.

  “Everything on the estate is my concern when Lord Royston is away, milady.” His cold expression challenged her. He took hold of her reins.

  “Move out of my way, Mr. Royston, and do not question me again. I will take full responsibility for my own welfare,” Caroline said.

  Charles Royston frowned, but he let go of the reins and moved reluctantly to the side. “As you wish, milady, however, at least tell me where you plan to ride. If you don’t return by evening, we’ll know where to begin our search.”

  Caroline turned her nose up at him and galloped away. She felt his intense, angry stare on her back. She refused to let him spoil her day.

  It was a cool, sunny day, perfect for riding and exploring. She felt almost hopeful for the first time since she’d found out about Damon’s plan for revenge against her family. Perhaps she could find a way to be of some use at his estate.

  She shook away the thoughts of last night and how she was going to deal with her husband on a more personal basis. She thought back to her conversation with her father about why Damon hated their family.

  She pictured Damon riding across these same fields when he was a young man. He would have been secure in his family and his inheritance. Then, his mother died in childbirth and his father, overcome with grief, lost his money and took his life. How would she have dealt with such a turnabout in her world? Caroline let the mare fly free across the meadows, trying to blow away the many unanswered questions going round and round in her head.

  When Caroline entered the drive to the ancestral home, she noticed the plants and flowers had been lovingly tended. The grass was cut and sunlight beamed on clean window panes.

  If someone was not aware of the closure of the house, they would surely expect to find the home full of people. As she got off her horse, an uneasy silence wrapped around her.

  She urged herself forward and walked to the entrance. She was surprised and relieved to see the door was unlocked. Stepping into the foyer, Caroline blinked her eyes, trying to adjust to the shadows cast from the dark-wood paneled walls.

  Moving t
o the left, she went into a large lounge. The furniture had been covered in white sheets. Heavy gold curtains blocked the light from the windows.

  At one end, a huge fireplace with a white marble top dominated the room. The ceiling was covered with gold and white trim and paintings of sky and clouds with angels playing a harp.

  She wandered through the closest rooms, and then went up the stairs to find a long hall with pictures of Damon’s ancestors. They all had dark-brown hair and flashing blue eyes.

  The women were small with mostly dark hair, but there was an occasional blonde scattered amongst them.

  At the end of the hall was the master’s suite. It was even larger and more grand than the new house. Walls were covered with rich dark-green wallpaper with velvet trim.

  Caroline pushed the drapes back and looked out over a lake. Several deer drank water from the edge.

  A walkway led from the side of the house through tall shrubs to a forest of trees. Caroline started to turn away, but stopped. Had she seen a flash of light by the side of the trees?

  She chided herself at letting the emptiness and silence of the house get to her. Quickly she walked downstairs and turned in another direction. She had not visited the rooms further down the hall to the right.

  “May I help you, madam? His lordship doesn’t want anyone snooping around here.”

  Caroline jumped, startled by the old man standing in the front hall.

  “Are you the one who has taken such good care of the house?”

  He nodded and walked further inside. “’Tis me, old Peter. Always did love the old place. ’Tis a shame the family won’t be living in this house.”

  “I agree with you. It is a lovely home. I’m Lady Royston.” She put out her hand.

  The old man took off his hat and bowed, barely touching her hand. “’Tis pleased I am to meet you. I’d heard the young lord married a nice lady.” His old eyes sparkled at her.

  “Do you live here at Atelstone Hall, Peter?”

  “No, milady. I was told to retire by Mr. Royston. I went to live with one of my sons at his farm, but I couldn’t watch the old place fall into ruin.”

  “Did Mr. Royston hire you back?”

  “I came back on my own. When my aches and pains allow, I come and work. Sometimes my sons and grandsons help me with the cleaning and yard work. Mr. Royston doesn’t like it, not one bit.

  “He hasn’t stopped me though. I think he was glad of my work when he heard the young master was coming home.” He chuckled. “Guess he wasn’t so sure how his lordship felt about the place after all these years.”

  “I was going to look at the rooms down this hall,” Caroline explained.

  He hesitated. “No one but me has been in here for many years, especially not down that hallway, except Lord Royston visited last month. I don’t think his Lordship would be pleased, milady.”

  “You may be right, Peter. However, I will take my chances.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe it’s time the air in this old house was cleared.” He watched her as she moved on to the next room.

  Caroline stood hesitantly at the shiny mahogany door, her hand touching the doorknob.

  “That is as far as your husband gets. Never opens that door.” Peter had walked to stand beside her.

  “Then this is where he found his father?” she asked the old man.

  “You’ll be opening up more than a door, milady, if you go into that room.” The old man shook his head and walked away.

  Taking a deep breath, Caroline turned the knob. The hinges creaked in protest as she pushed the door wide open.

  The room smelled of musty books, and dust motes danced in the sunlight coming from between the curtains and from the French windows to the side of the desk.

  Caroline walked in slowly. She sensed the past still lived in this room. There was a suspended feeling of, what? She wasn’t sure. Caroline crossed her arms and rubbed her hands up and down to repel the chill.

  Then she walked gingerly around the desk and pulled the chair back, sitting down. Caroline ran her hands across the desk and pulled open drawers to look inside. Papers still waited for someone to sit down and use them.

  Glancing at the doorway, she saw Peter. She smiled and asked, “Could you leave me alone for a few minutes?”

  “Yes, madam, yell out if you need me.”

  Her father had told her once that all old desks had hidden pocket drawers. He had shown her how to find his.

  Her fingers trailed along the inside edges of the desk. Nothing. She almost gave up hope when her foot brushed against a rough spot at the bottom of the desk.

  Stooping down, she crawled into the opening and pressed against that area of the wood. There was a slight movement. Pulling a hairpin out of the back of her hair she tried to pull the wood out further, but it was stuck.

  She wiggled back out and opened her reticule. Inside she found a coin. Climbing back under the desk, she slipped the coin in the slot and put pressure on it. She got a small opening where she could pull the drawer all the way out.

  The only item it held was a small, thin, leather-bound journal. Caroline slipped it into the pocket of her riding skirt and shut the drawer tightly.

  She had barely straightened when she heard voices heading in the direction of the office. Charles Royston flung open the door.

  “Your husband will be most disturbed to find you have been in his father’s study. His orders are that no one is to enter this house and especially not this room.”

  “You followed me!” Caroline’s face flushed with anger. “I recall telling you to leave me be, Mr. Royston.”

  “I intend to send your husband a letter today informing him of your behavior. I am certain he will be very displeased.”

  “My husband does not control my actions and neither do you.”

  “Don’t act so high and mighty to me.” Royston put his face close to hers. “I know your marriage is not a love match. And every husband controls their wife’s actions.”

  “You are impertinent and have overstepped your bounds, sir.” Caroline’s voice could have frozen him on the spot, if it were possible.

  Peter inched his way around the caretaker. “I’m sorry, milady. He insisted on coming in.”

  “I understand, Peter, thank you.”

  “Go away, old man. You have nothing to do with this. I retired you three years ago and told you to quit working around this place.”

  The old man snorted at him. “I’m not leaving ’til the lady tells me to go.”

  “Thank you, Peter. Please escort me to my mare.” Turning to Charles Royston, she frowned. “I believe it is time you left, too.”

  He stood his feet apart, glaring at her. “You don’t order me around. You’ll regret the day you challenged me.”

  Caroline felt a spasm of fear but refused to let him see it. She glared back at him, and didn’t move.

  He swore under his breath and strode out with long strides. He slammed the door as he left.

  “Be careful, milady. You’ve made an enemy of Mr. Royston,” Peter said quietly at her side.

  Caroline nodded and followed Peter out the door. The journal bumped against her leg when she walked out of the house to her mare.

  “I’m glad I met you, Peter. If you have any problems because of your support of me, please send word to me at the new house.”

  “Old Peter will be fine, but mark my words, you best be aware of his anger.”

  His warning followed her as she rode home. Home. Already she loved Damon’s estate. She’d be happy here except for the undercurrents between her and Damon, and now the open hostility between Charles and her.

  She urged the mare forward. She was anxious to get back. After lunch she would go to her room and read the journal she’d found.

  * * * *

  Caroline curled up in the chair by her bedroom window. She had locked her door to be sure she wasn’t interrupted, and then she carefully removed the journal from her pocket.

  Dark spraw
ling letters very similar to Damon’s writing covered the pages. The first page had his father’s name noted and the date, one year before his death.

  When Caroline next looked up the room was getting darker as the sun set. She got up and took the diary, looking for a safe place to hide it. Finally, she decided to put it in the pocket of an old coat she’d placed at the back of her armoire, at least for now.

  The pages she’d read ran through her mind. Damon’s father was still grieving the loss of his wife, but he knew he had to start paying more attention to his estate and his children. He wrote about trying to regain day-to-day control of his estate from Charles.

  Damon’s father had begun to suspect Charles was cheating him. He began to watch the books much more closely and noted an increase in hostility from Charles toward him.

  Some days he’d written the pain was too much, and he returned to London, drinking and gambling the nights away. However, he was enjoying it less and began to long to be home more. He was determined to deal with his grief and Charles.

  In his last entry, Damon’s father wrote he planned to fire Charles and concentrate on bringing the estate back to its full potential with his son’s help. That was the week before his death.

  Nothing in his journal indicated what a man contemplating suicide might write. In fact, it read just the opposite. Could Charles Royston have had something to do with Damon’s father’s death? And if so, how could she find out the truth?

  Caroline rubbed her forehead. Damon would think she was trying to prove her father’s innocence if she expressed her suspicions to him. She’d show him the diary, but would he read into it the same that she did?

  Her maid knocked and Caroline went over to unlock the door. “Sorry, I forgot I locked my door before my nap,” Caroline said. “I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “May I help you change for dinner, milady?” her maid asked.

  “Will I be dining alone?” Caroline watched the expression on the young maid’s face as she asked her question.

  “Mr. Royston generally eats in the dining room, milady. I’m certain he plans to join you.”