Page 103 of The Phantom Duke
The others raised their glasses of wine or cups of tea. Maria blushed, looking around the quaintly decorated room. The house was one of Damien’s possessions in the countryside, London barely visible on the horizon when the sky was clear. Since the destruction of Winterleigh it was home to Damien, his wife, their staff and…
“Mama! Mama! Look what Papa has given me!”
Gilbert bounded into the room, hurling himself through the door without knocking and running to Maria, holding a piece of wood. When he reached her, he flung himself into her embrace, hugging her tightly. Maria laughed.
It had not taken long before Gilbert had come to call her mother and Damien, father. The boy seemed to be desperate to use those terms with someone. He had tried out the names in the first month and then continued when no objection was raised.
The truth was, Maria remembered the very moment that Gilbert had called her ‘mama’. She would remember that moment until the day she died, even if old age and rusted reason denied her any other memory. She also remembered Damien’s face when he had first been named ‘papa’. He had asked Gilbert to repeat it, pretending that he had not heard him. But his smile had told the true story.
“What has he given you this time?” Maria asked.
“A sword of my very own!” Gilbert crowed. “Made by his own hands. I’m a knight now that I have my sword and my horse!”
The horse would be somewhere in the house. Another of Damien’s creations, a hobby horse with a flowing mane of carved and painted wood. It was a skill he had discovered and become adept at very quickly.
“Are you going to greet your guests, future Duke of Winterleigh?” Evelina asked.
Gilbert seemed to become aware of the other women suddenly. He cleared his throat, bowed low.
“Welcome to Winterleigh. You are most welcome. I am at your service,” he said formally.
The ladies bowed their heads and thanked Gilbert for his courtesy. Maria glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece.
“Well, Sir Gilbert. It is time for you to go to bed. Come on, we will find your valiant steed along the way, shall we? Ladies, would you excuse us?”
Maria led Gilbert by the hand, through the brightly lit halls of Hollowmere, to Gilbert’s room. They found Damien waiting there, a book in hand.
“I remember reading this as a child,” he said, “I thought I would begin reading it to Gilbert tonight.”
Gilbert was very excited at the prospect as Damien explained the story to him, which seemed counterproductive. Maria sat at one side of the bed while Damien sat at the other, reading in his deep, commanding, and articulate voice. Despite his excitement, Gilbert’s eyes were soon drooping. In moments, he was asleep.
His parents rose quietly and left the room.
“How is the Corset Chronicles Club?” Damien asked. “Should I be sociable?”
Maria settled into her husband’s embrace, looking up at him and brushing her lips against his. The days of masks were long gone. Damien faced the world openly and her, honestly.
“No need. They are all retiring for the evening. Our discussion was curtailed when we realized that male heroes in literature pale in comparison to their real-world counterparts.”
Damien chuckled. “I am no hero.”
Maria laughed. “I did not say you were. What a big head you have for yourself.”
Damien grinned. “Of course. You are referring to Philby and Matthew for refusing to leave me.”
“Yes, if you like,” Maria said. “Theodora has been making a study of the London scandal sheets, compiling statistics about their content. She has noticed a distinct change in the last threemonths. The name Phantom is absent; the Hero of Winterleigh appears a great deal.”
Damien led her through the suite of rooms that formed their family quarters, towards the bedroom they shared.
“Piffle. It is irrelevant,” he said.
“It is very relevant for the rebuilding of Winterleigh. You are thought of as a hero. Whether you want to be or not. Of course, you will always be the only hero that either Gilbert or I will ever need.”
Damien flung open the doors to their bedchamber with an extravagant flourish, kicking them shut with his heels. He spun Maria in his arms, lifting her from her feet before tossing her to the bed. She lay with arms outstretched. Damien appeared above her, climbing her body until he lay atop her.
“I will not hear that word again,” he told her. “It is banned.”
Maria began to speak to tell her that she had no intention of allowing him to forget his heroism, but he silenced her with a kiss. As soon as his lips permitted, and as she squirmed and wriggled beneath him, Maria said.
