To Romance a Charming Rogue (Courtship Wars)

Damon disregarded her leading question and said instead, “I am perfectly fine, Tess.”

She gave a faint nod. “That is precisely what I always told myself, even if it was a patent falsehood.” Tess's expression grew solemn. “I understand what you are feeling, Damon. Death of a loved one affects you, even though you pretend it doesn't.”

“I am not pretending anything.”

“Perhaps not, but I suspect you are indulging in self-flagellation. No matter how illogical it is, you cannot help but blame yourself for living when Joshua died. If he cannot be alive and happy and well, then you don't deserve to be, either. Isn't that true?”

He kept his lips pressed together, not answering, which only encouraged Tess to continue.

“You wish with all your heart that you could have saved him, and you feel a terrible guilt that you failed.”

Damon didn't argue her point. His most profound regret in his entire life was being unable to save his dying brother.

His muteness, however, only seemed to frustrate Tess. “But Damon, would Joshua have wanted for you to stop living?” She answered her own question. “Of course not. I was only a child when he died, but from what I remember of him, Joshua loved a lark. He loved life. And he would have been distressed to know you have continued to grieve for him so acutely. He would want you to move on with your life, Damon. That is what I am determined to do. I have finally come to the realization that we need to live and love now, in the moment. To make the most of our time on earth.”

“So you have become a sage philosopher in your old age?” he drawled.

“Not entirely. But at least I have acknowledged the futility of mourning a tragedy I cannot change.”

Rather than replying, Damon completed the last intricate fold of his linen cravat and picked up his riding coat that Cornby had laid out for him.

Watching as he donned the coat, Tess swallowed the remaining morsel of crumpet before commenting again. “I am glad that you have someone to turn to. You did turn to Eleanor and explain your feelings to her, I hope?”

Not willingly, Damon thought to himself. He hadn't wanted to share his feelings with Elle because they were still too raw. Yet admittedly, the pain he'd felt last night had diminished somehow. Her comfort had made something ease inside him.

He owed Eleanor for that, he knew.

He couldn't deny, either, that something had changed between them last night. He just wasn't certain what to do about it. Eleanor filled a need in him that he'd determinedly refused to recognize until now. A need that inwardly he was still fighting. He didn't want to need her.

Tess frowned at his continued silence. “Your marriage was not a love match, I take it, judging from the haste of the ceremony and the distance you and Eleanor have maintained from each other these past few days.”

Her prodding comment about love made him uneasy. “No, it was not a love match,” Damon responded in a bland tone. “Not that it is any of your concern, darling.”

“Of course it is my concern,” she retorted sweetly. “You are my nearest family. You are the closest thing I have to a brother. I had the Loring sisters to help me through my worst days, but you have no one.”

She paused. “I do know how you feel, Damon. The thought of intimacy, of making yourself vulnerable to pain again, frightens the devil out of you. So you build a protective shell around you. You shun all emotion. You hold your feelings close to yourself. But you pay a price for such isolation. For the past two years, I have felt only half alive while the world moved on around me.”

So had he, Damon had to admit.

“It is a dreadfully lonely way to exist,” Tess added wistfully. “True, you experience less sorrow, but you also never feel joy, never know love. And love is what makes us whole, Damon.”

He mentally shrank from her observation, instinctively resisting her advice. Eschewing love and intimacy was indeed a lonely existence, yet if he needed a reminder of the danger in loving, Tess was it. He intended to spare himself the pain and grief she'd endured upon losing her betrothed.

He and Eleanor were lovers now, but he didn't want any further closeness than that-did he? He certainly didn't want to lead her on and then hurt her when he failed to reciprocate her feelings, as he'd done during their betrothal.

Tess seemed to sense that she had pressed him too intently, however, for her tone lightened and she changed to focus to herself.

“I hope to love again someday. In the meantime, I plan to live my life more fully. I am done worrying about appearances, fretting over what is proper and what is not. I mean to let down my hair a little. You have been wicked all your life, Damon. Now it is my turn.”

Damon's gaze narrowed on her as he buttoned his coat. “Should I be worried about you, Tess?”

She flashed him a smile that accented her astonishing beauty. “No, you needn't worry. I don't mean to become too wicked, merely a dash. No matter the temptation, I cannot turn into a Jezebel since I have my charities to consider. But I have swathed myself in widow's weeds long enough, especially since I never actually was a widow.”

Crossing to her, Damon took her hand. “If I promise to throw off my widow's weeds for now, will you leave me in peace?”

Tess dimpled up at him. “Possibly. What did you have in mind?”

“You will be glad to know I intend to take my wife riding this morning, just the two of us.”