by Ranae Rose
“Thank you.” She held the fan in front of her face experimentally, as much to hide the sad twist of her mouth as to try her new gift.
Damon would not be fooled so easily. “Is something the matter, love?”
She nodded, trying to work up the fortitude to say what must be said.
“I’m sorry I sent a message with a maid instead of coming for you. My father was extremely insistent that I accompany him to a meeting.” He frowned.
“It’s not that,” she sighed. It was now or never, and never was clearly not an option. “When you were gone, I met a woman just there, in that room.” She indicated the double doors with her fan. The piano was lost among the crowd, but its music drifted out into the night, each note perfectly cheerful. The song seemed meant for someone else – not Elsie, who was feeling more out of place than ever. “Her name was Véronique Renard, and she said she’d come here to marry you.”
Damon looked as if he would have gone pale, had his complexion not already been so bloodless. “Véronique was here?” His tone lost its velvet edge, becoming slightly strangled. “In this house?”
“You didn’t know?” That was to his credit, but the mere fact that he knew who Véronique was and hadn’t seemed surprised at her bold claim was quite bad enough.
“No.” He reached out suddenly, clasping Elsie’s hands in his, nearly crushing the fan he’d bought her as he forgot to whisper. “Elsie, forgive me. Véronique’s desire to marry me is completely one-sided, and I had no idea that she was here in London.”
“Is it true that the two of you were engaged?”
He shook his head. “No. She wanted to marry me, and my parents were growing keener on the idea by the day, but… She and I never discussed it. It was never official.”
The beautiful garden became a lavender blur as Elsie’s head spun with relief that was not untainted by jealousy.
“I suppose my parents thought I’d be unable to refuse if they sprung her upon me,” he said, lowering his voice. “You must believe that I did not know she was coming.”
“Would you have married her? I mean, if it hadn’t been for me, if we had not…”
“No.” His tone was firm. “Never.” Pulling her close, as if to confess his love for her rather than his disdain for another woman, he whispered again. “The Renards are wicked beyond belief. They are a scourge upon Paris, and I would sooner die than inflict them upon London, or myself.”
“Wicked? What have they done?”
Realization flickered in Damon’s dark eyes. “Of course you don’t know. Elsie, they are like us.”
“Vampires?” she gasped quietly. That certainly explained Véronique’s beyond porcelain complexion.
He nodded. “My parents’ sins seem like child’s play in comparison to the Renard family’s lavish crimes. Half of the murders in Paris are their doing. Humans are less than cattle to them – base creatures to be played with and tormented before they’re destroyed and consumed. Life means nothing to them.” His sensuous lips twisted in distaste as he finished his description.
“Véronique said that her family wishes to become established in London.”
“They will never do so if I can help it,” Damon said, seemingly oblivious to how hard he was squeezing Elsie’s hands.
“Why would your parents wish for you to marry her if the Renards are so terrible?”
Damon responded with a wry smile. “Because they are rich, of course, and eager to take a cut from England’s industry. My parents see business partners. Not that they need them,” he sneered. “We Remingtons are already wealthy to the point that it ought to be considered a sin to plot ways to acquire more money.”
“Couldn’t your family engage in business with the Renards without a marriage, though?” The thought was anything but appealing after what Damon had said, but it seemed rather obvious.
Damon shrugged. “Of course they could, but my father is wary of dealing with them, as anyone with half a mind should be. They are cunning and deceitful people. I suppose my parents thought that they’d be more likely to deal fairly with family.”
Elsie nodded. It seemed there was only one more question to ask. “Does Véronique know of our marriage?”
“I haven’t seen her at the party, and she’s of the sort who can’t bear to miss a chance to show off. It would seem to me that she’s found out. With any luck, she’s on her way back to Paris right now.” He waved a hand dismissively and straightened, speaking in his regular voice again. “Forget all this for now. I must take you inside and introduce you as my wife.” He flashed her a closed-lip smile and proffered an elbow.
Elsie’s stomach plummeted as she did her best to return his smile. “Do you really think I’m ready?”
“There is no question of readiness. You are my wife, and all of London will know by tomorrow morning whether we tell them or not. Besides, there is no other proper thing to do, and I am looking forward to showing you off.” He touched her shoulder lightly and trailed his fingertips over the slope of her décolletage. “You look beautiful.”
The way he said it made it easy to believe. Nodding, she let him lead her out of the surreal-looking garden and into the brightly lit room where the party was now in full-swing.
Guests clamored as politely as possible to speak with Damon, who was naturally the dark star of the Remington family. Young, remarkably handsome and one of the richest heirs in London, none of them dared to say to his face the things they whispered behind his back. Not so much as a mention of the murder trial made it into conversation. Damon accepted and returned the first group’s greeting with a polite nod and a barely-there smile. “Let me introduce you to my wife, Elsie.”
The expressions of shock that appeared on the group of four’s – two gentlemen and two ladies – faces were every bit as incredible as Elsie had feared. Even after they schooled their features, their eyes glittered with gossip-lust. “We hadn’t heard that you’d married!” exclaimed one of the young lords.
“Yes, just recently,” Damon said smoothly, showing no sign of disconcertment.
“And I don’t believe any of us have had the pleasure of meeting the new Mrs. Remington at any other functions,” one of the ladies said, exchanging quick sideways glances with her companions. “Why, we hadn’t even heard news of your engagement.”
“It was a short engagement,” Damon conceded, favoring the girl with a modest but charming smile that didn’t come anywhere close to exposing his teeth. “I simply couldn’t bear waiting.” He flashed the young ladies just a hint of a wink. “You’ll see what I mean one day when you fall in love.”
The young women burst into fits of giggles, shooting each other wide-eyed glances as their bosoms heaved with hilarity. The gentlemen at their sides looked as if they didn’t know whether they should be bewildered or bemused.
Damon was a skilled conversant. Whenever anyone tried to pry information about Elsie’s background out of him, he seamlessly steered the talk toward his love of Elsie – a topic that was sure to make the young ladies interrupt everything with their giggling. After answering a couple more questions, he artfully extricated himself and Elsie from the conversation. Scarcely half a moment passed before they were set upon by the next group, and the former could easily be seen chatting excitedly with whoever happened to be near, ensuring that the entire room would know of the marriage within five minutes.
The conversations were tiring, even for Elsie, who was saved from having to say much by Damon’s skillful banter. When at last a familiar face appeared before them, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“I suppose half of London knows of your marriage already,” Lucinda said, hiding a grin with a fan much like Elsie’s.
“I thought you were in Hertfordshire,” Elsie said.
Damon chuckled. “The mere mention of a party will bring Lucy to London within an hour’s time.”
“Ridiculous,” she declared, though she was concealing a smile behind her fan again. “It takes much longer than that to
look like this.” She gave her perfectly curled hair a light pat. “And speaking of appearances, that gown really does suit you.”
Elsie hid a sheepish smile. “I hope you don’t mind that it was borrowed from your wardrobe.”
“Not in the least, but I do hope that my dear brother realizes that you deserve a new wardrobe of your own.”
“Perhaps you could oversee that, Lucy,” Damon suggested.
She hid another grin behind her fan, looking very much as if she’d hoped Damon would suggest that all along. “Of course I will. It’s wondrous to have a sister now.”
“Yes, it must have been dull for you to go all those years commissioning the latest fashions for only yourself. Now you’ll have a living doll to try out new fabrics on.”
Lucinda continued to look like a cat that’d gotten into the cream. “Indeed, having a sister will please me to no end. But what about mother and father – how did they receive the news of your marriage?”
Damon frowned. “It could have been worse,” he said, and then added under his breath, “and it sure as hell could have been better.”
“Are they angry?”
“Are they ever not irritated with me? They don’t understand why Elsie and I married.”
“Their anger will fade over time,” Lucinda assured him.
Damon nodded slowly. “It will have to.”
****
“Elsie.”
Elsie turned, surprised that someone other than Damon or Lucinda had addressed her by her given name. When she saw the man who stood scarcely two feet from her, her breath froze in her lungs.
“So you’re not too changed to recognize me,” Lord Wilkes said, a twisted smile playing across his face. “But of course you’re not…” He stood a good head above Elsie, and used his height to his advantage. His pale blue eyes widened with lust as he shamelessly eyed the creamy swells of her cleavage. “I dare say you shall never forget me.”
Elsie stared in mingled horror and disgust at the man who stood before her, well into his thirties but clad nonetheless in a flamboyant purple tailcoat that might have belonged to a much younger dandy. Suddenly, slipping away from Lucinda, who had been subtly teaching her how to socialize with the affluent party-goers while Damon chatted with a few gentlemen, seemed like a very unwise idea indeed. Elsie snapped her fan shut in irritation, returning Wilkes’ lavicious stare with a cold look that hopefully disguised the unease that was churning in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t known he was present at the party until now. How could she have missed him? “You’ve had far too much punch.” That much was painfully obvious – his breath reeked of alcohol and there was a certain unsteadiness to both his gaze and his gait that gave him away. “I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself.” She was the embarrassed one, but if she could manage to make him feel at least a little of her shame, he might leave her alone.
He continued as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “Everyone is gossiping about who you might be,” he slurred, donning a smile that would have been cruel if the unfocused look in his eyes hadn’t rendered it so ridiculous. “But I know exactly who you are.” He chuckled to himself, releasing a puff of stale, alcohol-saturated breath. “And it’s certainly no mystery to me why Remington married you. Surprised he didn’t do it sooner, really. You’re a rare beauty, you are.”
Trying to imagine how her mother-in-law might handle the situation, Elsie summoned what was hopefully a cool expression and stared down her nose at Wilkes. “I—” she began, but was quickly cut off.
“Beautiful,” he gasped, flashing what might have been intended to be a seductive smile in her direction.
She took a step backwards but was too slow. He laid one hand on her shoulder and pulled her close, using too much force and knocking her temporarily off balance. As she struggled to straighten, she wrinkled her nose and gasped in disgust as his breath assaulted her. She glided backward just in time to avoid what surely would have been a very unpleasant kiss. “How dare you!” she exclaimed in a low but furious voice, loath to call any attention to herself.
He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper that was still too loud. “I shall do whatever I want, unless you wish me to inform everyone that you are but a housemaid who’s as quick to jump into a stranger’s bed as to marry the Remington heir.”
Elsie gasped in disgust, batting his hand off of her shoulder with an effortless gesture that reminded her just how much stronger she was now than when she’d been human.
Surprisingly, Wilkes’ eyes widened in – could it be fear? Yes, it was. Perhaps he’d finally remembered exactly who Elsie’s husband was. Just as she was straightening, preparing to tell him off and stalk back to the party, a terrible realization struck her: she’d exposed her teeth.
Of course that explained the look of terror painted across Wilkes’ face. He was too drunk to remember the considerable threat Damon posed to him, but a set of long, tapered fangs set in the mouth of the woman he’d just tried to kiss was impossible to ignore. Elsie clutched her closed fan, but it was too late – opening it would do no good.
“What in God’s name…” Wilkes stood frozen before her, his eyes bulging and then narrowing. “Demon! You’re a bloody demon, just like the rest of them…”
Elsie couldn’t take back the mistake she’d just made. She could only hope that he wouldn’t remember what he’d seen in the morning. Flashing him a smile specifically intended to reveal her fangs, she took half a step toward him. “I don’t think you know me as well as you think you do, William.” It was the first time she’d used his Christian name. He’d never invited her to call him by it before, even when they’d been in bed together. “But if you know what’s good for yourself, you’ll never dare speak to me again. I have a feeling my husband will be very displeased if I tell him what just transpired between us.”
A feeling of accomplishment rose up in Elsie as William Wilkes stumbled backward, disappearing behind a rosebush as he alternately muttered curses and implorations for divine aid. She was even able to summon a genuine smile of triumph – though one that didn’t show her teeth – when the double doors opened and Lucinda appeared in the threshold, calling out to her. “There you are! What are you doing out here all alone?”
“I slipped away for a bit of fresh air,” Elsie said, strolling toward Lucinda and feeling much more like her sister-in-law than she had before. Perhaps she really would be able to live up to the name Mrs. Damon Remington – a ‘demon’ in her own right.
Chapter 14
“Tired already?” Damon asked as he peeled off his jacket.
“It’s nearly three in the morning,” Elsie pointed out from where she lay sprawled on the huge bed in Damon’s rarely-used London bedroom. The party had lasted late into the night, as Remington parties always did.
“Yes, but nighttime is our time.” He smiled at her – a full, genuine smile, unlike the modest imitations he’d given the guests.
“It’s not really the hour,” Elsie admitted. “It’s the strain of socializing. Rubbing elbows with the wealthy is more tiresome than being outside on a sunny day.”
“I agree.” He smirked. “Though I suppose that only highlights what a very odd couple we are.”
She sighed. “I certainly feel odd after that exposition. I don’t think I’ll ever fit in with such people.”
“We Remingtons don’t really fit in,” he assured her, “least of all me. And my parents rarely throw parties, thank God.”
Elsie ignored his first comment, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. Whatever people might whisper about behind his back, he was certainly adept at charming them in person – especially the young ladies. “What do you suppose the occasion was?”
Damon shrugged and directed a dark look at nowhere in particular.
Elsie voiced a thought that had been nagging at her for some time now, her voice quiet. “Do you think they meant to announce your engagement to Véronique?”
The shadow that passed through Damon’s eyes
said that he’d already considered the possibility. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
Elsie looked down at her tired, prone body, and her gaze settled on her hands. Her palms and fingertips were calloused from her childhood spent in the textile factory and her subsequent time as a housemaid. Damon had told her she had the face of a princess, but there was no question that her hands belonged to a common laborer. “Do your parents hate me for marrying you, Damon?”
He shook his head. “They do not hate you. They simply…”
“Go on,” she prompted. “You needn’t spare my feelings.”
“I care very much for your feelings.”
She shot him a level look. “I’m no shrinking violet, remember?”
A wry smile curved the corners of his sensual mouth. “All right then. I was going to say that they simply don’t appreciate you. As far as they’re concerned, life is one huge business arrangement, and they fail to see what I’ve gained by marrying you.”
“Do you think they will always resent me?”
“No. Lucy may be overly concerned with fashion and social events, but she’s not unintelligent. She was right when she said that their anger will fade in time.”
She shot him a doubtful glance.
“It will. Like a true businessman, my father will eventually forget about the disappointments of the past and occupy himself with the hunt for future opportunities. So will my mother.”
“All the same, I’m not fond of being a disappointment.”
“Elsie.” His dark eyes were soft as he settled onto the bed beside her. “You are not a disappointment to me, and that is all that matters, for you are my wife.” He picked up one of her hands and began to massage the back of it, working magic over her knuckles with his fingertips. “After what I’ve told you about my parents, you should know that their judgment is skewed and that their approval is not necessarily a good thing.”