Page 85 of Wicked By Design

Everything seemed just a little brighter, just a little better than before.

“Good morning, Lord Rivington. Congratulations to you on your marriage.”

Damian turned, a little startled to hear someone hailing him. Not so long ago, someone yelling his name would have been the first sign of trouble, but those days were behind him now. He raised his hat in thanks, wondering who on earth the fellow was, but whoever the man was, he just returned a friendly smile and strode on.

How extraordinary.

Smiling to himself, Damian made his way to the stables to hire a carriage for the morning. He should provide such things for Celia as soon as possible. He could not have his lady wife hiring carriages whenever she needed to go anywhere. A sweet-tempered mare too, so she could ride out.

A vision of the two of them riding together, out to visit Gideon and Hetty or to The Mermaid for ices, formed in his mind’s eye, and filled him with such longing that a tiny shard of terror pierced his heart. Could he really have this?

He had been certain for so long that such a life was beyond his reach, but Celia seemed to make all things possible. Yet nothing had really changed. Had he been lulled into thinking the danger was not so grave as it truly was? Or was this really his life now? It seemed too rare and wonderful to be true.

But then Celia was rare and wonderful, and by some miracle she belonged to him. If she was brave enough to face whatever came without shrivelling up into a frightened little ball, then he could too. He would live each day, accepting any blessings given him with the appreciation he felt, and if the worst happened, he knew Celia would not crumble, and that Gideon and Hetty would never let him hurt her.

It did not diminish his fear, but it made it feel manageable, like slowly chipping away at the trunk of a massive tree, not thinking about felling it, just the next blow and the next, until one day it tumbled to the ground.

Taking a moment, he turned, gazing out at the sea his wife loved so much and finding a little of the same peace she spoke of as the sun finally broke the clouds and sparkled upon the water.

Anything was possible.

Everything was possible with Celia.

“Are we nearly there yet?”

Damian hid an amused smile. It was at least the third time she’d asked, and Celia was fidgeting with anticipation, eager for her first glimpse of the house.

“Still, nearly, yes,” he said, shaking his head at her. Turning to look out of the window, he realised they actually were approaching the house now. “Come here, you impatient creature.”

Reaching for her, he hauled his wife onto his lap. She gave a little squeal of laughter as he settled her on his thighs, his arm snaking around her slim waist.

“Look there,” he said, pointing out of the window.

He heard her breath catch and knew at once he’d been right. The moment he had seen the house, he had known Celia would adore it. Of course, it was not nearly grand enough for a viscount and his lady, but Gideon had the talent and delicacy of touch to make it grander, losing none of the beauty that made it so very charming.

“Oh, Damian. It’s lovely.” Celia looked down at him, her eyes alight with anticipation. “Can we go in?”

Damian fished the key from his pocket and held it out to her. “We can.”

She took it from him with a smile and the carriage had barely halted before Celia had scrambled from his lap and stood gazing at the house.

“This side of the house is Tudor, I’m told. It’s the oldest section,” Damian said, watching her reaction with interest as she took in the large casement windows with their traditional glazing bars, the steeply pitched roof flanked by gable ends and two prominent hipped dormers. “Behind this ancient façade, you will find two parallel adjoining wings. These are much more recent and in excellent condition.”

Celia held out her hand to him and Damian took it, walking with her towards the two-storey porch which acted as the main focal point of the façade.

Celia turned the key in the lock, and they walked into a house that felt to Damian as if it had been waiting for them.

“It’s still furnished,” she said in surprise.

Damian nodded. “The family have taken their personal belongings but much of the furniture came with the estate, as I understand it. They came south for the mother’s health and a milder climate, as she was ailing, but it seems the sea air wrought such wonders that they are returning home to the Midlands. They were homesick, if you can credit it,” he said, shaking his head.

“I cannot,” she exclaimed with delight as she pushed open a door that led into a wonderfully appointed drawing room with views over the lovely gardens, and on to the sea beyond. “Oh, how could anyone think of leaving such a place?”

Damian watched, an odd sensation somewhere between pride and happiness building in his chest as Celia ran from room to room, her excitement palpable.

“May we see upstairs?” she asked him, heading for the staircase.

“You may investigate every nook and cranny, love. I take it you like the place?”