Page 87 of The Phantom Duke
“Let us descend together and discover who this gentleman is,” Damien said softly.
“Together?”
Damien tried to read her face, but only shadows replied. He was struck by the foreign desire to apologize or explain himself more. They ought to demonstrate a unified front before this intruder, but she had betrayed him. How could he ask for her assistance? Doing so would mean acknowledging that he needed her aid, even after such a profound betrayal.
“Yes,” he said.
He snatched his shirt from the branch and roughly tugged it on, then picked up Maria around her waist, holding her body against his own without effort and descended the natural staircase of the oak tree’s branches. When they reached the ground, the sound of another person making their way through the undergrowth reached them.
“His name is Ezekiel. He claims to be an Alaric. He is fair of hair and blue of eye, but I thought I saw something of you in him,” Maria whispered.
“He has exceptional luck to make his way through this wood without incident at night, too,” Damien said.
“Your Grace?” came a questing voice from close by.
“Here!” Damien called. “Watch your step, for God’s sake!”
A shape emerged beneath the branches of the oak. Damien narrowed his eyes, stepping forward.
“This is a strange way to greet someone, wandering their estate at night, calling out their name? Did you not go to the house first?”
“I did and was refused admittance. I asked if you were home and was told that you were, but were walking in the woods. I thought I would use my initiative,” the man replied.
“Your Grace,” he addressed himself to Maria. “How nice to see you again. My apologies, but I could not wait. This is too important to me.”
Damien glanced at Maria, who acknowledged the greeting with a smile, then looked anxiously at Damien.
“It forced something of a sudden confession. I had not yet found a way to broach the subject of our meeting,” Maria said.
The shadowed stranger put out a hand, but Damien did not take it.
“I will not meet my long-lost brother in the dark beneath an oak tree. We will go to the house. But follow me closely. You were lucky to reach this far into the woods through the traps laid throughout.”
Ezekiel looked about him as though expecting to see those traps visible on the ground.
“Traps? The work of your gamekeeper?”
“My work. For people, not game,” Damien replied, brushing past him.
He still held Maria’s hand in his. He led the way back through the woods to Winterleigh. Upon entering the house, Philby appeared.
“A man claiming to be your brother wished to enter the house. I denied him, though doubtless that was the wrong thing to do,” he said with the moroseness of a disappointed bloodhound.
“No, you were quite right, Philby,” Damien said. “Please have tea and coffee sent to my study for three.”
If Philby was surprised that his judgement had been correct, he gave no sign beyond nodding and sighing at the enormity of the task before him, turning and leaving the room. Damien scrutinized the newcomer, unabashed. He wanted to strip away the man’s flesh and see the soul beneath, see the truth of him.
“I do not see the resemblance,” Damien said sourly.
It seemed impossible for his father to have sired such a delicate man as this one.
“It is around the cheeks and the eyes,” Maria said helpfully.
“I must admit that I struggle to see it myself,” Ezekiel replied with a disarming smile. “However…”
“However, we will discuss it over drinks in the study,” Damien interrupted, wanting to test Ezekiel.
Does he have the temper I shared with my father?
