Page 47 of Wicked By Design

“Yes,” she agreed, meeting the man’s eyes. He looked tired, his expression one of compassion mingled with resignation. “Lord Rivington, is… I believe he… he fears—” She broke off, worried she was being indiscreet, that Damian would be angry with her for discussing him.

“I can well imagine what he fears, my lady,” the doctor said gently. “It is a widely held belief among the medical profession that such afflictions are carried in the blood, and I can offer no guarantees that it is not so. Yet despite everything, I persist in believing there is far more to it than that.”

“You do?” Cilly, who was still vibrating with tension, clutched at his words like a lifeline.

Doctor Grantham smiled sadly and shrugged. “I only know that I have seen hundreds of patients in my career, and it is remarkably rare for a case like Lady Rivington’s to inflict itself on later generations. I have attempted to express this opinion to both his lordship and his brother, but my words fell upon deaf ears as it does among my peers, I cannot deny. Popular opinion makes no distinction between one form of mental illness and another, and it colours perception.”

Cilly’s heart leapt with hope, though she hardly dared trust in it. “Do you mean—”

The doctor held up his hand. “It is only my opinion, and I am what you might call a voice in the wilderness. You will find many, many more who disagree vehemently with me. I cannot say more to you as you are not yet family, but I would speak with his lordship again if he was open to hearing my thoughts on the matter. Perhaps you might have more success in this.”

“I will do everything in my power,” Cilly promised, though she was overwhelmingly aware of just how difficult that might be. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, my lady, and thank you for visiting Lady Rivington. I believe it has done her much good.”

“Then we shall come again,” Cilly promised, and hurried out to find Damian.

Chapter 10

Hold the Line

Hollywell House, East Sussex, 17th September 1816

Cilly found Damian out on the lane, sitting on the stone wall that edged the property. He looked worn to a thread, pale and fatigued, and not at all the vigorous, wicked devil she had grown used to. Her urge to run to him, throw her arms about his neck and weep was one she held tightly in check, knowing he would revile such a reaction and put up even more barriers to keep her away.

She was not a fool. He had brought her here to shock her. Damian had believed she would be so horrified by his heritage, by the taint he believed existed in his blood, that she would not resist his demand they be nothing more than friends. She did not doubt he expected her to reject even that as a possibility, now she knew the shame his family bore.

Well, he must get used to the idea that she would never reject or abandon him, no matter what.

Moving slowly, as if she were approaching something wild, she settled herself on the wall beside him, careful not to touch him.

The silence stretched out around them, the only sound the breeze that scattered fallen leaves around their feet. Autumn had already settled over the land, casting the leaves in gold and bronze. She had always loved the autumn, the sense that nature was sighing with relief after the excess of the summer, though the weather this year had been strange indeed.

Though the temptation to break the silence, to reassure him or make promises was hard to resist, she forced herself to remain still and quiet. She would wait for him to guide her, to show her what he needed, though her heart knew instinctively what that was, she wished to be certain.

The strained hush was becoming hard to bear when he finally shifted position, turning to look at her.

“Well,” he said, his voice unnaturally calm, devoid of emotion. “Have you seen enough?”

Cilly turned to meet his eyes, finding them utterly cold. He meant to complete the job he had begun and push her away. She did not doubt he had expected her to run away weeping in horror. As she hadn’t, he would be forced to try harder.

“For today. I hope you do not mind, but I promised I would come again to visit her.”

She spoke lightly, though her heart thudded unevenly in her chest. If she said the wrong thing, she could ruin any chance she had of being even his friend.

He snorted, folding his arms. “Ah, like a ministering angel,” he said with a sneer.

Cilly shrugged. “Do you think so? I had more in mind a dutiful daughter-in-law, but I am charmed by the idea you think me such a sweet creature. I’m really not, you know. I would have thought you’d realise this by now.”

He shot her an impatient glare, clearly vexed by her unreasonable refusal to find him or his mother reprehensible. “Stop pretending you aren’t horrified, damn you.”

She let out a ragged breath, half gasp, half laughter. “Oh, Damian. How can you say that? You tell me the worst imaginable secret, something that must have tormented you for your entire life and throw it at me like you are asking me to pass the sugar. You have manipulated me and this entire visit and have gone out of your way to shock and frighten me, and now you are angry with me because I won’t run away.”

He folded his arms tighter, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “It needed very little manipulation,” he snapped.

Silence fell between them again, but it felt less threatening this time. Cilly took a breath, praying she would find the right words.

“Damian, what happened to you, and to Gideon, what… what your mother did… I cannot imagine how frightening that must have been.”