Page 71 of The Phantom Duke
Damn him! He is so dratted perceptive.
“Should I not recognize her beauty?” Damien growled. “Even desire her?”
“I would fully expect it. Why is it so difficult for you to admit?” Simon asked.
Because to admit to the feelings I have for her, the warmth she brings to me at the merest sight, the pleasure I feel at her company, simply being in her company, all of those things bring with them weakness.
But then another thought rose, unbidden, to the surface of Damien’s mind.
I can’t risk letting Maria in… I am cursed. People around me suffer. Even the ones I… care about.
“Why are you here, Simon? I have not called for you,” Damien replied.
Simon sighed, seeing the gates crashing closed against him. He shrugged.
“I have news concerning the rumors from the north. Concerning the rumors of a brother?”
Damien’s eyes sharpened. He leaned forward, hands against the desk, gaze intent on Simon.
“What news? Is there anything to the rumors?”
“Whoever he is, I believe he is real.”
“He?”
“There is an individual, who claims to be your brother. Whether he is an Alaric is another question, and one I cannot answer. But he exists. And he is no longer in the north. I have heard that he is here in London.”
“How have you come by this information?” Damien asked.
“A patient who earns a scurrilous living writing for a scandal sheet. Another who is a prominent lady of the ton and an avaricious consumer of gossip. And a few others. The notion of there being a brother to the Phantom is a popular one in the imagination of our peers.”
Damien sat back, muscles slack. The rumors had spread far, indeed, and there was a specific individual responsible. It was a lot to think about.
How could there be a brother? My father killed my mother, and I remember no infant.
He frowned, trying to bring memories of that time to the forefront of his mind. It was difficult; they were locked behind a door in his mind that he did not wish to open. That locked room had been dark since Damien had been a child.
“If he is real, then why has he not communicated with me?” Damien wondered aloud.
“Perhaps he is afraid?” Simon suggested.
“Of me?” Damien asked.
“Yes, frankly.” Simon paused. “But there are other possibilities, of course. It might be that this man is some manner of villain and claims association with you for nefarious means. If so, it would be rather brazen of him to speak with you, for you would be more capable than anyone of refuting anything that he might claim.”
“Yes,” Damien said. “I suppose that is so, but…why association withme? There are so many lords among the ton with whom an aspiring criminal might claim to be a relation of.”
“I know. And I have no answers for you.”
Damien stood, going to the window and moving the curtains aside. The sunlight fell across his face. Maria was still out there, bathed in light and resplendent as the moon. One of her friends was speaking, relating a tale that had the others laughing.
Maria glanced towards him, and her eyes met his. Damien found himself held to the spot, unable to look away. Unwilling to look away. He saw her lips part, saw the color rise in her cheeks. Did her bosoms heave ever so slightly?
She tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and bit her lower lip. Damien was bewitched, remembering everythingabout her that was now covered but which he had seen, touched and tasted. He forgot where he was and in whose company.
“Do you have any further instructions for me?” Simon asked after a long silence. “I can try to learn more about this young man. I am certain that someone must know something about him and his intentions.”
Damien looked away from Maria for a moment.
