To Romance a Charming Rogue (Courtship Wars)

He greatly missed the camaraderie and friendship he'd had with his twin brother. That bond had been shattered by death, yet he'd been set on destroying the fragile bond he shared with Eleanor himself.

She could end his emptiness, though, if he could bring himself to lower his defenses. She could be his friend and companion as well as lover and wife. She could banish the cold loneliness he'd let fill his life. Elle was the essence of what was absent in his existence: joy, friendship, laughter, feeling. He hadn't let himself feel in so long.

Did he dare to reach for more than a cold, emotionless union of convenience with Eleanor?

Did he have a choice any longer?

It was becoming clear that there was no defending himself against her, no denying his need.

No, the simple truth was, he wanted a genuine marriage with Elle. He wanted to watch her laugh in joyful exuberance as she'd done at the end of their race. To hear her cry his name as he satisfied her desire, just as she had a short while ago when he'd made love to her. He wanted to give her the family she yearned for. He wanted her happiness, her love.

Damon shut his eyes, breathing her in, absorbing the warmth and fragrance of her, finding a rich pleasure in no more than holding her close.

He could imagine himself loving Elle… always, forever.

A soft, incredulous laugh whispered from his throat as he realized how far he'd come in a few short weeks. He'd always vowed never to let anyone close enough to put his emotions, much less his heart, at risk. This time, however, he intended to take a chance on making a real marriage with Eleanor.

He would have to earn her trust, though. He had to prove himself deserving of her before she would entrust her heart to him.

But for the first time since he'd stood over his brother's grave, railing against fate, he was resolved to overcome his trepidation.

To seek a real future with Eleanor.

To share his life fully with her.

To let himself love her as she deserved to be loved.

You may feel possessiveness or jealousy but take care not to show it. Gentlemen want to feel free to flit from flower to flower, like honeybees. -An Anonymous Lady, Advice…

Damon had every intention of spending the entire afternoon with Eleanor, and the evening as well. When he'd informed her that she would sleep in his bed tonight, she made no demur. Yet when they returned home to Rosemont, outside events conspired to interfere with his plans to romance his wife and make a real marriage with her.

After leaving Elle at her bedchamber door to change out of her riding habit, Damon went to his own rooms, only to find Cornby eyeing him with a look of severe disapproval.

“This was delivered by messenger an hour ago, my lord,” the valet said stiffly, handing him a folded note of lavender-scented vellum with the words “Viscount Wrexham” neatly penned across the front.

Damon frowned upon recognizing the familiar handwriting and form of communique.

What the devil? Why would Lydia Newling be writing him just now? And why would his former mistress come back into his life just when he had resolved to build a future with Eleanor?

My dearest Wrexham, the inside message read. I truly do not want to interrupt your house party but I desperately need your help. Please, I beg you to spare me a half hour of your time and meet me at the Boar's Head Inn in Brighton. No doubt you would prefer to grant me an interview there, as you do not want me to thrust myself upon Lady Beldons distinguished gathering.

Your fond servant, Lydia.

Damon felt his gut clench. Was Lydia's last sentence a veiled threat to barge in on him at the house party if he refused to comply with her request? Or merely her attempt to be considerate of the social consequences? A Cyprian knocking on the door of a noble estate searching for her former patron would horrify the company and create fodder for scandal.

But scandal be damned, it was Elle's response that concerned Damon. At the very least she would be shamed and hurt if his former paramour made such a brazen appearance.

Ordinarily he wouldn't suspect Lydia of resorting to blackmail, since she was kindhearted and generous and not the scheming sort. Yet he couldn't take the chance of destroying Eleanor's fragile trust so soon after vowing to win it.

Cornby, however, clearly did not approve when Damon said he would be going out again for an hour and would change when he returned.

“Are you certain you wish to take this step, my lord?” the valet asked unhappily as Damon turned to leave.

“What step?”

“Visiting Miss Newling. Is that not what you intend? If so, I feel compelled to observe that Lady Wrexham could take your assignation as an insult. I should not like to see a repeat of two years ago when she terminated her betrothal to you because of Miss Newling.”

“Neither would I,” Damon said emphatically.