“As it appears we’re able to converse without resorting to veiled swipes and verbal blows,” Damian said, “I wanted to tell you I plan to marry.”
Hell, the words were as much of a surprise to Damian as they were to the marquis. But he recognised the truth in them. Indeed, his heart swelled at the prospect.
The marquis narrowed his gaze. “I don’t suppose you speak of Lord Bromley’s daughter? No, of course not, you do not love her.”
“No, I am in love with Lady Steele.”
The marquis snorted. “And you think she will have you?”
“I can only hope.”
“If you align yourself with the widow, you understand there is no hope of saving your reputation.”
“I rather like my scandalous reputation and enjoy the power that comes with not giving a damn.” No one told him who he could marry.
A faint smile touched the marquis’ lips. “It must be quite liberating.”
“What? Not giving a fig for other people’s opinions?”
“That and having faith in requited love.”
Damian glanced at the ceiling. “I expect the same cannot be said for the woman currently warming your bed.”
“Why would I chase love when the pain of a broken heart lasts a lifetime?”
Damian understood his father’s logic. If he lost Scarlett, his heart would wither and die. Bitterness would beat in his chest. And he knew that feeling all too well.
“I find it hard to believe you have experienced loss,” Damian said. The man acted as if he were impervious to all emotions. “Particularly when your selfish actions have caused others immeasurable pain.”
An uncharacteristic sigh escaped the marquis. “Your mother—”
“I am not speaking about Maria. Do you know what this is?” He opened his arms wide and gestured to his impeccable clothing and devilish facade. “It’s a wall. A wall to keep the marauders at bay. Protection from the vile comments, the vicious blows. Illegitimacy is frowned upon regardless of rank, but try living at boarding school with a host of privileged little lords. Try feeling like nothing you do is ever good enough.”
The marquis swallowed deeply. “And yet you have found the one thing that eludes the best of us. You have found someone to love, someone to love you in return.”
What the hell did the marquis know about love?
Thoughts of his mother filled Damian’s head. Life had not been perfect. She had entertained a few men during his childhood but never married. “Maria would have loved
you if only you had given her a chance.”
A long, drawn-out silence filled the room.
“Have you nothing to say?” Damian prompted. Had the marquis ever cared for Maria? Had he ever held his son in his arms, ever felt the urge to fight against society’s dictates?
“Your mother loved singing more than she loved me.” The marquis stood abruptly, moved to the drinks tray and sloshed brandy into a glass. Without turning around, he downed the contents, panted a few times as the liquor burnt his throat. “We wanted different things. Despite our truce, we were too selfish to save you.” He stared at the wall as if lost in another time, another place. “I could have snatched you from her arms, and she would have been powerless to prevent it. I could have raised you here. But I loved her, so I let her keep you like a trinket of our lost affection.”
Frustration flowed like hot lava through Damian’s veins. He wanted to call his father a liar, but the marquis never lied about anything. He wanted to challenge the story, but his father dealt only in painful truths. Not once had Damian questioned his mother’s affection for the lord. Not once had she spoken his name with disdain, only love and respect.
And so his situation was like Scarlett’s. The people who might confirm the truth had departed this world, and so all they could do was realise that the past had no place in the present.
“Why did you not tell me this before?” Damian knew the answer yet still asked the question.
The marquis turned to face him. For the first time, Damian saw water glistening in his eyes. Unshed tears of regret, perhaps. “I am not a man who carries his bleeding heart in his hands and begs others to take pity. I loved and lost. And I hope never to love again.”
Then the marquis was doomed to live an empty existence.
“Wish me luck.” Damian came to his feet. The heavy burden of his parents’ failed relationship dissipated, leaving him feeling lighter. Free. “I am about to ask the woman I love to marry me. Pray she does not reject my proposal.” Else he would rain the devil’s wrath on everyone he met. “Pray that in years to come, I am not bedding every woman breathing in the hope of purging my pain.”