Page 65 of Wicked By Design

Celia nodded, but didn’t look at him. Her face averted, she looked like every description that he’d ever read of a tragic heroine in the moments before she died bravely. His heart gave an erratic thud.

Dammit. The bloody sweet peas were supposed to fix this, but they seemed to have made things worse than before. He cleared his throat.

“Is… Is there…?” He broke off and sighed. There was no point avoiding it. It appeared he was missing something. “This isn’t about flowers, is it?”

Still with her back to him, Celia shook her head.

Damian glowered at the floor. He did not know what to do. There was a part of him that wanted to run like the coward he was, run and run and never look back. But a larger part of him, the greatest part of him, could not bear to see her unhappy.

He walked towards her, heart thudding unevenly, terrified of what she would say, of what she might make him say.

“Tell me.”

She shook her head again, and he reached out, slipping his hand in hers.

“Don’t tell fibs. Friends, remember? Friends stand by each other, and they confide in each other too, or at least, that’s what I’ve been led to believe. I’m afraid I don’t have a great deal of experience in such matters, but… but I’m learning, Celia.”

“Oh, Damian, you wretched man. Why are you doing this to me?” She turned around, gazing up at him in such obvious despair he didn’t know what to say.

“I-I don’t know? What? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing!” she wailed, then burst into tears again.

With no other options available to him, he pulled her into his arms, holding on tight. “Well, that’s unreasonable,” he groused.

“Yes, it is,” she sobbed. “You’re not supposed to be perfect. You’re not supposed to buy me the perfect gift and promise me a house with a view of the sea, and… and go and find me sw-sweet peas. N-Not if you’re going to abandon me and leave me in that house all b-by myself.”

She wept harder, fingers clutching at the lapels of his coat and mangling them so badly Finch would have conniptions. He didn’t care.

“I—” Don’t say it, shrieked a voice in his head, but he could no longer hear the warning, it had been getting fainter and fainter with each passing day, and now it was inaudible, smothered under the pounding of his own stupid heart. “I won’t! I won’t, Celia. I won’t do that. I promise.”

Celia stopped crying abruptly and gazed up at him in stunned silence.

Damian sighed and fumbled for his handkerchief. He ought to be repulsed, he was certain. Female tears had always been a reason for him to flee, but ugly crying of this nature was definitely something he’d had no intention of ever being a part of, and yet he wanted nothing more than to wipe her eyes and her nose and kiss her until she smiled again because he could not bear to see her so unhappy.

“Stand still,” he ordered crossly, for he was certain he would make some other rash promise if she did something as appalling as hug him.

Miraculously, she did as she was told, and he cleaned her up.

“Blow,” he commanded, smiling as she did as he told her, because… because it was too ridiculous and he was a blasted fool, God help him.

She smiled back at him, a wistful, hopeful smile that made his insides twist.

“You know, I’ve never needed to order emergency sweet peas before,” he said conversationally, keen to diffuse the tension singing between them. It felt too strong, overwhelming, as if he might forget he could not have all the things she made him want.

She laughed at that, and he felt a surge of relief. “Well, I cannot imagine why not. They are the answer to most crises, you know.”

“I shall remember that,” he said gravely and, fool that he was, he knew he would. He could imagine it, taking her sweet peas because she was furious with him, because he could not bear the idea of her being angry, or unhappy, or alone.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked. “Tea. Tea and macarons? I have a sudden desire for the things. I blame Hetty.”

“I would. She’s very blameable,” Celia said, gazing at him with such a look in her eyes that… he needed to leave.

“I’ll go and—” Damian waved a hand and hurried out, needing a moment to breathe, to comprehend the enormity of what he’d just done, what he’d just promised to do.

Outside, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He felt odd, a little dizzy, as if he stood on the edge of a precipice.

God help me, he muttered under his breath. Don’t let me take her down with me.