Page 64 of The Phantom Duke
“No.”
Damien closed the window, locked it and hurled the key into the fire.
Another breakfast alone. Maria stared at the empty seat opposite her. She had been so certain that she had broken through Damien’s reserve, touched the man behind the impenetrable wall, the man behind the mask. It was not just the intimacy they had shared in the bathhouse but what was, to Maria, a far greater intimacy, the sharing of information concerning his childhood.
I have seen his mother, and he clearly reveres her. I have seen a side to him that no one knows exists. Perhaps not even the servants, if they are prohibited from that wing of the house as well.
But here she was. Alone. In a house that was still full of locked doors. Locked doors uttering strange sounds. She shuddered, remembering her roaming of the house the night before.
When she had heard the sound of Damien’s window closing and knew that she had been shut out, she had not been able to sleep or quell her spinning mind. So, she walked. Trying doors that led to rooms in which dust and darkness were the only occupants.
And doors that were locked. One of which had spoken to her.
“Maria, good morning. I trust you dined well,” Damien entered the room.
Maria jumped, so lost in thought about the previous night that she was taken by surprise.
“I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you.”
“Then you should have announced your presence,” Maria said, a hand to her chest.
“In my own house? Presumptuous,” Damien said.
He went to the window and drew the curtains, turning his head away from the bright light of day as he did.
“I did not dine well, in answer to your question. I had thought we would dine together.”
“What made you think that?” Damien asked.
“Our sharing last night,” Maria replied.
“Intimacy between a husband and wife does not necessarily denote friendship. Or closeness.”
Would one call that intimacy? Maria valiantly resisted the impulse to squeeze her thighs together and calm the sharp ache that threatened to from between her legs. “I was referring to my finding you in your private gallery of your mother’s artwork.” Maria said, feeling a hint of victory at Damien’s assumption.
He is a man after all. Thinking with his loins.
Admittedly, she was not better, but?—
Well, that was irrelevant. Even if she was thinking a little with her loins, she did also have an ulterior motive.
“I could not sleep last night,” Maria said, taking a sip of tea and trying to appear nonchalant.
Damien watched her silently.
“I decided to go for a walk about the house. I often do it when I cannot settle myself to sleep.”
She was watching Damien closely and saw the sudden tension in his posture. He turned away, walking to the window, as though unconcerned.
“There are many locked doors in this house,” Maria added. “It is most unusual.”
“Is it? That should not come as a surprise to you,” Damien said.
“It does not. You did tell me so. What do they conceal?” Maria asked.
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“When I hear voices behind certain doors, it concerns me greatly.”
