Damon acknowledged the servant's adieu with a slight nod of his head. It was indeed good to be in his own bed after living for so long on foreign soil. Yet he knew it would be damned hard to sleep after kissing Elle tonight. Too many memories had been stirred up, both good and bad.
He had never let himself become emotionally involved with any woman until Eleanor. After enduring so much grief, he'd refused to let himself care for anyone, never wanting to again risk the pain of losing someone he loved.
But her joie de vivre had enchanted him so utterly that he'd ignored the warning signs of their growing intimacy until her fateful admission of love.
The danger she presented had only been underscored by yet another death-when his distant cousin, Tess Blanchard, had lost her betrothed in the Battle of Waterloo. Seeing Tess's shock and devastation savagely reminded Damon of the grief he risked if he went through with his marriage to Eleanor.
It was why he had driven her away. He knew the anguish and emptiness he'd felt at his brother's tragic death and his parents’ untimely demise would be even greater if he lost Eleanor after the incipient bond between them had strengthened and deepened.
Damon had resolved to make her call off their betrothal, however, since a gentleman could not honorably jilt a lady. And so he'd arranged a public scene where she was sure to see him with his former mistress.
He had not actually been unfaithful to Eleanor; he'd merely let her believe him so-and therefore think him the lowest cad in nature.
To spare her further pain and humiliation, Damon had left England the following week.
Fortunately, during his travels on the Continent he had a mission for his pent-up passion and disillusionment, a larger purpose for himself. Perhaps it was because his family's senseless deaths had left him with a fierce need to control fate, but with Otto's guidance and connections, Damon had spent the past several years trying to save some of the unfortunate innocents who were struck by the devastating malady that had taken his brother.
The success of his endeavors was a source of, if not pride, then certainly satisfaction. He had accomplished what he'd set out to do, beyond his greatest hopes, in fact.
Not surprisingly, though, Damon had found himself yearning for England of late. A few short weeks ago, he'd decided he had wandered long enough, that it was time to return home and resume his former life. The rumors about Lazzara courting Eleanor had only hastened his departure.
Which brought him to this evening and the question of what to do about Elle.
He wouldn't repeat history by growing too close to her and then hurting her again when he walked away. Yet he couldn't just abandon her now. Not when she was being pursued by a rake who would make her a deplorable husband and only cause her misery. She deserved far better.
He wanted Eleanor to be happy, to be able to fulfill her dreams of marriage, love, children. The very future he had shunned when he'd deliberately and publicly betrayed her. If someday he married in order to carry on his title, it would be purely a union of convenience for him.
Still, he was certain Prince Lazzara was not the man of her dreams. Therefore, Damon thought darkly as he drained the last of his brandy, he intended to be in the park tomorrow morning on the chance he would encounter Eleanor there with her royal suitor.
Specifically so he could protect her from the profligate philanderer who was wooing the lovely, lively woman he had once thought to make his own wife.
Upon returning to their home in Portman Place, Eleanor accompanied her aunt upstairs and paused outside Lady Beldon's bedchamber to say good night.
“I am glad you enjoyed the evening, Aunt,” Elea nor said sincerely. “Signor Vecchi is quite agreeable, is he not?”
“He is indeed,” Beatrix answered with a slight blush at the mention of Prince Lazzara's elder relation. “The Signor is the epitome of charm. I suspect charm must be an inherent trait of Italian gentlemen, regardless of age.”
“You may be right.”
It warmed Eleanor's heart to think she could be witnessing a budding romance between her patrician aunt and the distinguished Italian diplomat. Since being widowed a half dozen years ago, Beatrix had shown no interest in any gentleman of any kind. But clearly her attention was engaged now by Signor Vecchi, who was likewise widowed. Moreover, he seemed to be attracted to her in return.
Aunt Beatrix's blush faded, however, as she gave Eleanor a careful scrutiny. “Did you enjoy the evening, my dear? You are not overly distressed by Wrexham's return, are you?”
“Certainly not,” Eleanor prevaricated. “He may go to the devil for all I care.”
“He already has gone to the devil, no doubt,” Bea trix replied tartly, “although you know very well that ladies do not use such coarse language as ‘devil.’ ”
“Yes, Aunt,” she murmured, hiding a smile. Her noble relative was fastidious about proper behavior, yet Eleanor wanted to please her aunt whenever possible, to repay her kindness for taking her in so long ago.
“I trust Wrexham's return will not interfere with Prince Lazzara's courtship of you,” her ladyship observed.
“I cannot imagine why it should. Wrexham has no interest in me any longer, nor I in him.” Under no circumstances would she divulge that Damon had kissed her witless in the gardens barely four hours ago, or that for an enchanted moment, she had returned his wonderful kiss with a shameful eagerness.
“Do you mean to drive with Don Antonio in the morning, Eleanor?”
“Yes, at ten o'clock.”
Beatrix raised an eyebrow. “That is rather late for you, is it not?”
“It is, but the prince claims to be a late riser.”
“In any event, be sure to take one of our own grooms with you, for appearances’ sake, you know.”
“I shall,” Eleanor replied without argument.
“Then sleep well, dear.”
“And you, Aunt,” she responded, although certain sleep wouldn't come easily to her tonight. She was infinitely glad her initial meeting with Damon was done with, yet he had only roused painful, poignant feelings of regret and desire inside her.
She did not kiss the older woman's cheek or even press her hand before turning away, since Lady Bel-don considered such demonstrations of affection ill-bred.
Perhaps, Eleanor reflected as she made for her own bedchamber in the adjacent wing of the house, her aunt's strict reserve was why she had responded so readily to Damon's warmth when he first started wooing her.
She'd had a rather lonely upbringing, growing up in the care of stern, very proper governesses. Her parents, Baron and Baroness Pierce, had a cold marriage of convenience and held little affection for each other or their children. And since Eleanor's beloved brother Marcus was almost a dozen years her senior, for most of her childhood he was away at boarding school and university.
Upon her parents’ deaths in a fatal carriage accident, Marcus became her legal guardian, yet Eleanor went to live with their mother's sister, Viscountess Beldon, since her ladyship was a far more suitable chaperone for a ten-year-old girl.
Supremely aware of her breeding and consequence, Aunt Beatrix refused to allow Eleanor to attend boarding school where she might have made close friends. And even now, despite her current popularity among the ton, she had few truly dear friends except for Drew Moncrief, the Duke of Arden, and Heath Griffin, the Marquess of Claybourne, who were both like older brothers to her.
Oh, Eleanor remembered wryly, she had attracted numerous suitors during her comeout at eighteen. Once she reached marriageable age, her fortune and lineage had made her highly sought after.
Marcus had worried that she might fall victim to a fortune hunter, while Aunt Beatrix had wanted her to make the brilliant marriage expected of most heiresses-a union of bloodlines and fortune-even if there was no chance for mutual affection. Eleanor, however, had a crystal clear vision for her future. She planned to hold out for a love match.
Then, barely six months after her debut, she met the wickedly charming rogue, Lord Wrexham.
She had initially resisted Damon on sheer principle. Every woman wanted him, so she was determined she would not. But even she had quickly fallen under his spell. He was unlike any man she'd ever known, virile and vital, with a sense of intensity, of danger about him that was exhilarating.
She would never forget that first unexpected kiss between them. They were strolling in the gardens of the Beldon country estate near Brighton, at the beginning of her aunt's annual house party, when he struck up an easy flirtation with her, one that challenged her wits and undermined all her defenses.
“You are too seductive for your own good,” Elea nor finally told him with a laugh. “It could lead you into trouble.”
His half smile was enchanting. “It already has upon occasion. But the potential rewards are worth the risk.”
Then and there Damon leaned toward her and boldly captured her lips, giving her a stunning taste of heat and arousal and pure captivation.
After a long, dazed moment, however, Eleanor reacted sheerly on principle, determined to show him that she was not to be trifled with. She pushed at his chest, catching him completely off guard and sending him tripping backward over the ledge of the nearby fountain.