Page 97 of The Phantom Duke
He strode through the door to his bedchamber, swinging the door shut and blocking the sight of the mirror. A door in a corner of the room disguised as a panel led to the secret staircase and the cellars.
He would go immediately and release the man claiming to be a poacher. There came a rapid series of taps at his bedroom door, then it opened. Damien smiled. Only Maria would knock and then consider permission to enter given. She was the only person he wanted to see now.
Slipping the key into a pocket of his dressing gown, he stepped towards her. She came to him, holding his forearms and gazing into his eyes. Her forehead was creased with concern, her eyes shadowed with anxiety. Damien stroked her face, cupping its delicate fragility with his strong, broad hands.
“I know about the prisoner in the cellar. I have seen him,” Maria blurted. “How could you do this?”
Damien felt ice settle upon his skin, frost blooming around his heart. His hands froze, fingers a breath from her skin.
“How?” he asked.
It was the wrong question. Maria took his hands in hers, pulled them from her face and stepped back from him.
“You cannot deny it.”
“I have not tried to.”
“Then, tell me why?” she said plaintively. “Why are you doing something so horrible!”
Damien tightened his grip on Maria’s hands, seeing the gulf yawning between them and refusing to let her cross the chasm.
“Am I doing anything different from the magistrates of the Old Bailey? They deprive men of their liberty for transgressing the law.”
“You are not a magistrate! You are not a judge or a law-maker.”
“I am on this land. I have the authority to do as I please!” Damien snapped.
“Once. But we live in a different age. These are not the days of the Norman barons. Of absolute rule with anyone not born to nobility born to serfdom. We are a civilized people.”
Damien felt his frustration grow at Maria’s inability to see the truth. It underwent a process of alchemy within him, transmogrified into anger which bubbled blackly.
“They are not civilized!” he barked, tearing his hands from Maria’s, or trying to.
“Butweare!” she snapped.
“I will hear no disagreement,” he said through clenched teeth.
She closed the gap, holding on tenaciously, then wrapping her arms about his waist.
“No! You do not get to escape from me behind your high walls. You will face me, and I will see the man behind the mask. The man I…”
Her words stalled, the thought so monumental that she seemed to hesitate to speak it. Damien knew what she had stopped herself from saying. It shocked him. That she had almost spoken it aloud. That it was so close to being spoken, to being real. The alchemy wove its magical tendrils through his soul, and the dark, choking smoke of anger transformed into resignation. Acceptance.
So, here we are. The pass I did not want to be holding against her. That I do not think I can defend.
He ran his hands down her back, possessing her with his touch. He marveled that she didn’t shy away.
She is not afraid of me, even now.
“My reason for offering you a marriage of convenience was to civilize my name. To dispel the myth of the Phantom,” he said lowly. “But there was an unspoken reason. There are those who sought to find out about the Phantom, to prove their own scurrilous gossip… Even to take things from Winterleigh as souvenirs.”
He paused, his voice tight with frustration.
“I wanted to stop them, so I laid traps in the woods around the house. It did not deter them. One penetrated the house itself.”
Maria’s brows drew together. She reached for his hand without thinking. “Is this why you’ve been so guarded?”
Damien met her gaze, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “I could not countenance the threat to my staff should he have been intent on harm. Drastic action was needed.”
