Damen’s Secret: Regency House Party: Somerstone

by Johnson, Jen Geigle

  She shook her head at her wild audacity. How had she become such a lady of the night? Such a harridan? She crunched the letter into a tiny ball. Francisco. He had done it to her. And now she acted out of self-preservation and for the life and care of her child.

  And she cared for Damen. They had something between them, a mad, rushing need that flowed the moment they were together. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

  Her stomach lurched. Curse the wretched sickness. She could hardly keep anything down. It was for the best, as she strived to hide any growth. She couldn’t let Mirriam, Damen’s adoptive mother notice. But it was becoming more and more difficult to keep things from that woman. Her kind and caring eyes followed Giorgia whenever she was in the room.

  Giorgia had made her way back to the house the other afternoon, the heat of the day creating a line of sweat at her brow, thinking how pleased she was that Damen had such a mother in his life. Her children seemed loved, cared for, responsible people. It boded well for his coming attempts at fatherhood. And he was wonderful with his sweet young half-sister, Annabella, that adorable child. She doted on him as though he carried the sun. And he loved her in turn, always bringing her biscuits from the cook or any other kinds of treats from the kitchens.

  She winced as she bent over, yearning as she did every morning, for her maid. The corset cut into her, blocking her breathing.

  Damen would make a wonderful father. And he was almost convinced. She saw it in the hunger of his eyes, felt it in the way he clung to her. She assuaged her guilt at her deception. She offered him the life he most desired. And she cared for him, desired him. She would grow to love him, with time. She knew his strong hands could erase the feel of Francisco’s soon enough.

  Damen’s mother entered without knocking. Her sharp eyes taking in Giorgia’s form. “You are with child.” She waited, her face blank.

  Fear knifed through Giorgia. “I am, just.”

  “Damen doesn’t know.”

  “Not yet.”

  Miriam turned to leave, and Giorgia filled with panic. “You won’t tell him!”

  The mother paused in the doorway. Giorgia hated to disappoint her. Her usual kind eyes were stern and pained. “I will if you don’t.”

  Giorgia swallowed, again and again, the solid ball in her throat would not leave. “But what if he won’t take me?”

  “Then he won’t. But he will know what exactly he is choosing.”

  “He would become a Baron.”

  “You are titled?” She tilted her head, considering, and Giorgia felt a new hope grow.

  “Yes, I am, and my father left his title to my new husband. So Damen would immediately have a title, an estate, and a position of respectability in Italy.” She grabbed for Miriam’s hands. “But we mustn’t tell him about the title, not yet. I want him to love me, for me.”

  The woman’s eyes filled with sadness. “You would be so far away.” She shook her head. “But I knew he wouldn’t be mine forever, only for a time.” She rose taller in the doorway. “It is a good trade, because you are a good woman. I can tell you are. But he must know about the child. Tell me when you have let him know.”

  Giorgia didn’t answer—she couldn’t breathe. How could she ever convince him to marry her now? Then her lungs loosened and she sucked in one enormous, sharp, burst of air. Her breath came faster and faster, the world closing in around her eyes, everything darkening. She dropped to the floor, worried she was dying. “Help.” She whispered.

  Miriam ran to her side. “Oh Giorgia honey, breathe, slowly. Breathe.” She tipped Giorgia’s head forward in between her knees and rubbed her back. “It’s ok, honey. Whatever happens, it will be ok. We will make sure of that. That’s what we do around here, I guess.”

  Giorgia slowed her breathing, matching Miriam’s, and her vision cleared. When she lifted her head, everything went blurry again.

  “No, too soon. Just relax a minute.” Miriam gently pushed Giorgia’s head back down between her knees.

  “You know I never planned for this to happen.”

  The dear woman chuckled. “We never do.” She brushed aside Giorgia’s hair. “If anyone were to understand your situation, Damen might.”

  “He has such anger though, toward his mother—his father mostly.”

  “That he does. The only way to find out is to ask him.”

  “I’ll wait as long as I can.”

  Miriam was silent for a long time, and then she said, “Don’t break his heart.”

  Giorgia nodded, and the guilt tore at her. But she wouldn’t break his heart. She was offering him the world. She kept repeating that to herself. Just a few more weeks and perhaps they would be attached enough, he would be enamored with her enough, that he would take her anyway, child or no.

  And then she would tell him about the title, and he would be pleased. She prayed he would be pleased.

  8

  A great bother had disturbed Damen’s peace. Every time he came upon Lady Tabitha, he yearned to carry out his plan for a title. But all thoughts of Giorgia chased that desire from his mind. He found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Everything around him jumbled together in a mass confusion. And it didn’t help that so many of the ladies found him handsome. Lady Emily and Lady Summers batted their eyelashes whenever they thought no one else was looking. They rang for him at all hours of the day and night, making ridiculous requests. At any other time in his life, he might have made the most of such an opportunity, but he knew there was nothing but trouble coming from ladies such as them. They would turn him in with all manner of capital offenses were he not to tread very, very carefully.

  The night grew later. A maid rang for him. When he arrived down in the servant’s kitchen, she told him that Lady Summers had requested an escort to statuary hall. “She says she cannot find her way in the dark and particularly asked for you.”

  Damen pressed his lips together in a tight line rather than complain to a scullery maid. Grabbing a candle off the wall sconce, he made his way back to that wing of the house. The good news was that Lady Summers’ room was situated close to Lady Tabitha’s. He desired to look on her again, to sort out in his mind, once and for all, if he would pursue her. She would likely be sleeping at this hour, but a peek through the servants’ entrance was all he required. Her sleeping form had often reminded him of angels. Perhaps he would find his answers by seeing her once again.

  As he approached that hallway, as rotten luck would have it, Lord Henry marched toward him. “Damen. What are you doing outside these doorways?” His accusatory tone made Damen bristle. What right did Lord Henry have to rule over him? He walked with the disgruntled lord until Henry entered statuary hall. A brilliant plan began to form in his mind.

  He circled back around and headed straight for Lady Summers’ door. When she opened at his knock, her nightdress made him cringe. “Perhaps you would like to don a robe. You wouldn’t want others to get the wrong idea.”

  She paused, allowing him a full view of her form through the thin fabric, then wrapped a robe about herself. She stepped close and clung to his arm. “I’m fearful at this hour. Thank you for accompanying me.”

  He nodded. They began to walk in the direction of the hall. Unfortunately it was a good distance away. She started humming, an earthly low tone, and swaying to her own song and rhythm. “I’ve heard you have the voice of an angel.”

  When he was silent, she continued, “I would love to hear you sing.”

  He didn’t respond, and he could almost sense her pout forming. “Servant. Sing for me.”

  Herein lay the problem with ladies such as her. She would resort to commands, and he was doomed no matter what he did. He would need to distract her sooner rather than later. He dipped his head. “I would be honored to sing for you. Do you have a request?”

  She told him a favorite folk number that he knew, so he began low, for her ears only, and sang to her. She stood nearer, brushing up against him. The hairs on his arms stood on end.
But he continued his singing as they grew closer to statuary hall.

  When they were only a few turns away, and he had exhausted his repertoire of songs, she turned to face him, pressing herself up against him, and stepped up on tiptoe, ready to press her lips to his. “Take me Damen. Take me now. I cannot stand being apart from you any longer. Surely you feel it. We are meant to be..”

  Something in her pleas reminded him of his father—his promises to his mother. Anger iced through his body in a crackling wave. He stepped back and peeled her arms from his person. “You forget yourself, my lady.”

  “So formal.” Her eyes grew cold, rebuffed. “I am surprised at your behavior, Damen, someone in such a lowly state as yourself. Do you think you can make advances like that to me, a lady, and not receive some sort of punishment? How dare you pull me into your arms and attempt to kiss me. You are lucky I don’t scream right now.” Her eyes widened in challenge. He saw determination and a truth to her words. So he reached for her hand. “Come now. I see I misunderstood.” He ran a finger up her arm, saw her eyes close in pleasure. Then he rubbed his hands on her shoulders, caressing them, running fingers down her back while he held her closer. “I see how fortunate I am to gain your favor. Perhaps we can spend some quiet moments together, enjoying the pleasure of one another’s company.”

  She purred. “Mm, yes, Damen. I will wait for you in my room at night. We can meet anywhere. Whatever you wish.”

  “But.”

  She stiffened.

  “I have a secret you might enjoy even more.”

  She searched his face, a calculating expression passing across her features. “What. Tell me now.”

  “One, Lord Henry Courteney.”

  Her interest piqued.

  “He went into statuary hall just now, alone.”

  “Did he now?” She smoothed down her hair and left him straight away.

  Damen shook his head in disgust. He was finished with the nobility. He could no longer stand a single one of them. To think that his father had seduced his mother in just such a conniving and dishonest manner. To think he had then determined to ignore the consequences of his actions. Damen clenched his fists in fury. He wished to see Lady Summers enter the hall. Once the door closed, a gasp caught his attention.

  Oh no. Tabitha stood at the corner, and she had gone as white as the ghost they had seen together. She did not deserve such a shock. He hurried to her side and escorted her carefully back to her room. She climbed into bed, numb. He didn’t even think she totally understood who it was who tucked her in. “You deserve better than this.” He whispered. And then he left through the servants’ panel.

  The whole circumstance made him ill. But from it he had gained some valuable clarity. He no longer wished to be a part of the English nobility. He could barely stomach completing the house party. He wished to go to Giorgia this very night, declare himself, ask her to marry him, and leave on the next ship to Italy.

  9

  Damen waited until the next opportunity for some time to himself. When a few hours finally availed themselves, he led Giorgia along through the gardens toward the fountains on the Somerstone estate. He loved the sound of the cascading water. And the smell of roses intoxicated his senses. He studied this beautiful woman at his side. Her profile was exquisite, as was everything about her, even the very manner in which she carried herself. She reminded him of every other noble lady at the party, but she added substance to her beauty, kindness to her poise. And she looked at him like they all looked at the other men from their class, as though she would drink him in forever, her dark eyes pools of adoration.

  He brought her to stand near the largest fountain and held both her hands in his own. “Giorgia, the day you stepped into my life, a beautiful clarity began. You have taught me what it means to be honest. To be true. You have come, just as you are, and I have fallen, as a great dove in the sky, in a great descending love for you.”

  Her eyes clouded over for a moment and then cleared. “I love you too, Damen. I knew when I saw you, we were meant to be. You will love Italy. It is your true homeland. You will be treated as you should be. Servants will do your bidding. You will be revered and respected.”

  He pulled her close.

  “Most of all by me.”

  “I love to hear you talk like that.” He pressed his lips to hers. Then took her hand in his. “Giorgia, will you marry me, such as I am? I can only promise to love you and be loyal to you all of my days.”

  Her eyes misted over. “That is all I have ever wanted. Is it possible that you love me?”

  He searched her face, her distracting beauty, the kindness in her eyes. “I love you.”

  She stepped into his arms and rested her check against his chest. “Then I will marry you. You have made me the happiest of women.”

  He picked her up and swung her around. He was full of a great freedom, an exhilarating happiness, one like he had never known. “We must go tell mother at once.”

  Whatever protest she gave was lost as he took her hand in his own and walked her out of the gardens. He found the old servant’s donkey cart and drove them straight to his home. He would be sad to leave, would miss them all terribly, but they were the only part of England he would miss. “How soon can we leave, my dear?”

  She seemed stiff, worried, but her voice was light. “As soon as you like. Tomorrow if you want.”

  He hummed to himself. Why had he not determined to act on Giorgia’s offer before now? What a glorious thought. Free by tomorrow. Off to marry his love and live as a rich man in Italy. He stopped. “Should we marry on the ship?” The adventure of the idea excited him.

  Her eyes lit. “Yes! Or even before. Could we ask the vicar in town?”

  He considered the thought, and it pleased him. “Of course.”

  They pulled into his childhood home. He reached for Giorgia’s waist and swung her down from the cart. Then he grabbed her hand and ran for the house.

  His mother opened the door and stood in the doorway, her face lined with concern. He registered her worry but could not make sense of it. “Mother. I have the happiest news.”

  They arrived in front of his mother, and her face broke into a smile. “I’d love to hear it. Come, come inside.”

  They sat together at the table. Damen held Giorgia’s hand, her small fingers clutched tightly to his own. Her face looked drawn, almost fearful.

  “Is everything all right?” He whispered to her.

  She shook her head.

  His mother’s sharp eyes moved from one to the other. “Has she not told you?”

  A new sense of alarm niggled at him. “Told me what?”

  Giorgia shook her head, tears starting to flow. “I am so ashamed.”

  “What is wrong? Of what are you ashamed?” Great confusion filled him. He couldn’t even fathom what could be disturbing her.

  A heavy silence filled the room, his mother staring at Giorgia’s downturned face. When it looked as though no one would speak, his mother finally broke the silence. “She is with child.”

  He dropped Giorgia’s hand, shock sinking into the base of his stomach. “What?”

  She lifted her chin, lips wobbling. “It’s true.”

  Betrayal shuddered through him. “And this is why you wish to marry?”

  “No, not only this, but it is why I came.”

  “My blood mother knows this?”

  “It was her idea.”

  He stood, shattered. Not only was he not worthy of a title, but she thought him fit to hide the stain of another.

  “She thought you would be sympathetic to my plight, that you would see the opportunity in it as well as the mercy.”

  “And all I see is the shame, the illegitimacy, the blight, my curse, continuing.” He moved to the door. “Don’t you see, Giorgia? All I want is to remove that stain. And you want me to continue it another generation.” He shook his head, left through the door, and let it slam behind him. He ran from them, left the donkey where he waited and
took off through the woods. Sobs racked his body. Hurt, years of hurt, surfacing as the shame of what his mother suggested tore at him. Lady Summers’ propositions, his suffered injustices, the sting of being the bastard son, all came crashing into him at once, and he didn’t know what to do with the raging torrent inside.

  So he ran, as long and as far as he could. His clothes tore, his hands were scratched, but on he ran. Until at last, gasping for air, he could not continue. He fell to the earth in great gasping heaves, closed his eyes, and tried to disappear.

  10

  Damen’s mother’s face went white as soon as the door slammed shut. “I’m afraid he will do something rash. He has purchased laudanum.”

  A sick feeling of dread filled Giorgia. “You think he will harm himself?”

  She nodded. “Or others. He is not himself. He has a crazed look in his eyes I don’t recognize.”

  “Why did you have to tell him? I could have let him know in a more gentle manner.”

  She shook her head. “And then he would have experienced this wave of emotion when he was already married, trapped?” She opened the door to look out into the lane. “It would have been far, far worse.”

  Giorgia stood with determination. “We must make a plan. I will gather my things, and you can help me pack his. If he is about to do something desperate like you say, we must be ready to whisk him away and save him from himself.”

  His mother nodded. “I will help you.”

  * * *

  Damen awoke in the woods, darkness falling around him. His emotions were spent and in their place was a deadness inside that he welcomed. Deadness was painless. He stood, brushed himself off as best he could and then hurried towards the estate. Today was the day of the ball. It would begin in a few hours, and he had work to do.