Demon of Mine (11 page)

She released the breath she hadn’t
realized she’d been holding.

“
You don’t have to give me
your answer now. Consider my offer…decide if you could bear to be
like me.”

Her voice was faint, her energy
drained by the momentous weight of the decision he’d set upon her.
“I will think on it.”

“
I’m glad to know you’ll
consider it. There is much more I have to tell you, much more for
you to know. My offer is not an act of pity, though I will not deny
that my heart aches for you. But it is too much for one night. If
you decide you could stand to become what I am, I will tell you the
rest.”

She nodded, still feeling as if her
head were spinning.

“
There is one more thing I
must ask of you tonight,” he said.

She watched his face, waiting for him
to continue.

“
My trial is tomorrow, as
I’m sure you know. You are the only witness who can attest that I
was home when Lord Griffith was killed. I need you to give your
testimony in court, in London tomorrow. I’m sorry to ask it of you
in your current state of health, but I must.” A hint of humor
entered his voice. “It would be a dreadful thing if I was
convicted, for no amount of whipping can make me bleed, and however
long I hung from a noose, I would not die.”

Her stomach lurched at the thought of
Damon hanging at the end of a rope, even as her cheeks flamed at
the idea of giving a truthful testimony. If called upon by the
court, she would surely have to omit certain details. She nodded.
“Of course.”

“
We leave at dawn. Come,
I’ll escort you back to the maids’ quarters. You must get some
sleep.”

He brushed his lips across hers one
last time and rose from the bench, offering her his arm. She stood
and let him guide her, her mind whirling with
possibilities.

Chapter 6

Despite the early hour and the fact
that she’d had next to no sleep the night before, Elsie felt alert
and completely awake. How could she not when she’d soon be sharing
a carriage with Damon? His presence set her senses on fire, and her
brain registered his every move, every whiff of his pleasantly
masculine scent. When he took her by the hand and helped her into
the cab, her cheeks warmed as she remembered his words from the
night before.

“
Did you sleep well?” he
asked as she settled her small bundle of belongings beside herself
on the velvet seat. They were alone in the cab, a fact of which she
was supremely aware. She’d expected Lucinda to ride with them, but
she’d apparently opted for an extra hour of sleep and her own
carriage, which would leave at a later hour. Damon, who needed the
morning to spend with his lawyer, couldn’t afford to waste time.
He’d asked if Elsie would rather travel with Lucinda, but she’d
declined. She was already up and ready, after all, and she wasn’t
about to miss an opportunity to be with Damon.

The carriage rolled forward at a
jaunty pace, and the horses snorted above the clopping of their
hooves as they exited through the gates.

“
I’m afraid not. My mind
wouldn’t allow it.” She’d lain awake until scarcely an hour before
dawn, contemplating the enormous decision that loomed before her.
Whenever she’d feared that it had all been a dream, she’d touched
the puncture wounds on the inside of her wrist and the tip of her
finger. Damon had done her a favor by giving her those tangible
reminders of his true identity.

“
I’m sorry to hear it.” He
sounded genuinely regretful. “I managed to secure a time slot for
my trial. It isn’t until two in the afternoon. I will spend the
morning in conversation with my lawyer at the London estate. You
will have until we depart at one to rest.”

Elsie nodded, privately thinking that
it would be difficult to succumb to sleep, between the strain of
the choice he’d given her and her anxiety over his trial. She
believed he was innocent, but what if the jury decided otherwise?
At times, her fear seemed almost ridiculous. The Remingtons were
incredibly wealthy and regarded by most with a certain vague,
fear-tinged sort of superstition. Surely a combination of money and
intimidation would be enough to sway the jury and the
judge.

But what if it wasn’t? It was either a
very brave or very stupid soul who dared to accuse Damon of murder.
The fact that the late Lord Griffith’s younger brother had done so
either proved that he genuinely believed Damon to be guilty, or had
some ulterior motive. It was the latter possibility that scared
Elsie. What if the younger Lord Griffith had also been pulling the
strings of wealth and fear, contriving some nasty fate for
Damon?

Elsie sighed. All she could do about
it was to give her testimony. It seemed a small thing, but it was
better than nothing. How could she not put forth her best effort to
clear Damon’s name when he’d offered her healing and
life?

She bit her lip and wrung her skirts
as she considered his offer. She’d already decided that she wanted,
very much, to say ‘yes’. Freedom from her mysterious illness was
undeniably alluring. But even more than that, the chance to somehow
level the playing field between herself and Damon called to her. If
she allowed him to change her, she would be like him – immortal.
Surely the same old strictures that stood between them now would be
lessened at least somewhat, wouldn’t they? After all, who’d ever
heard of an immortal housemaid?

But that was the trouble.
What
would
she do
afterward if she allowed Damon to transform her? Would she be
expected – would she be
allowed
– to go on doing her regular duty as a maid,
hopefully promoted, as she’d been promised before, to the position
of Mrs. Remington’s personal attendant?

Her head swam with confusion. She
longed to ask Damon her questions, but didn’t dare – not now in the
carriage during broad daylight. Things had been different in the
secrecy of the moonlit garden. He seemed less the living legend now
and more the handsome, human heir. If she wasn’t mistaken, his
formerly tapered canines looked more like regular teeth than fangs.
It was as if the daylight had tamed him. It was easier now to
imagine the carriage horses sprouting wings than Damon professing
his intent to make love to her while he tasted her blood. Only the
twin wounds on her wrist and the pinprick dot on her fingertip
evidenced his true identity.  She was resigned to waiting
until he asked her to meet him again or broached the subject
himself.

****

Elsie couldn’t help but breathe a sigh
of relief as she stepped through the doors and into the foyer of
the Remingtons’ London home. Everything about the place, from the
sheen of the polished floor tiles to the cool, clean smell of the
house welcomed her. This was her home, where she’d lived since the
age of twelve. Whatever thrills her time at the country estate had
provided, it felt good to be back. She drifted toward the maids’
quarters where she’d spend the morning in rest, per Damon’s
insistence. He left her side, heading for the sitting room with an
immaculately dressed lawyer he’d addressed as Mr. Hastings. Damon
had offered to escort her further, but she’d turned him down,
assuring him that she knew the house so well she could’ve made her
way to the servants’ wing with her eyes completely closed if
necessary.

Along the way, she passed several
other maids. She nodded and smiled at each one, glad to see their
faces, even if they were blurred. They were so much lovelier than
the gossiping chits at the country estate. No doubt there’d been a
fair amount of rumor-mongering while she’d been gone – as usual –
and she wasn’t so naïve as to believe that none of the tales had
included her, but at least these girls knew her. They’d witnessed
how hard she’d worked over the years, meticulous in her duties.
They’d never accuse her of faking an illness or milking it out of
laziness. Here, she was liked – something she’d learned not to take
for granted. By the time she reached the maids’ quarters, she was
stepping lighter despite her worry over Damon’s offer and the
impending trial. She might even be able to get some
rest.

Her bed awaited her, neatly made
beside Jenny’s. Elsie thought of her friend with a pang of regret
and a spark of curiosity. Surely Jenny had already caught wind of
her arrival. Would she seek her out and speak to her, or avoid her?
A part of her hoped for some sort of reconciliation, while a
nastier side of her personality was tempted to turn a cold shoulder
when she encountered her old friend. Vowing not to act a bitter
shrew if she got the chance, she settled into her bed and closed
her suddenly tired eyes.

She awoke some time later to the
distinct, unnerving sensation of being watched. She blinked sleep
from her eyes, wondering how long she’d been out as she swept her
gaze from side to side, searching for the person whose presence she
felt.

A lonely figure was in the far corner
of the room, perched on the edge of a distant bed. Elsie squinted
to make out dark skirts. It could have been any maid, had it not
been for the bright blur of red hair that caught her eye. “Jenny,
is that you?”

Slippered feet beat an anxious rhythm
against the floorboards as the woman hurried across the room, her
skirts rustling. “Yes! It’s me.” Jenny settled onto her own bed,
scarcely three feet from Elsie’s side.

Almost palpable tension filled the
silence, and for a short while, neither of them dared to break
it.

“
I’m sorry,” Jenny finally
said, her voice sounding unusually tight and strained. “I’m so
sorry for what I said to you before you left for Hertfordshire.”
She hesitated for half a moment. “Will you forgive me?”

 “
Of course.” A weight
seemed to lift from Elsie’s shoulders, and she smiled. “I’ve missed
you terribly. The maids at Hertfordshire are the most unpleasant
lot I’ve ever met.”

Jenny sighed in apparent relief. “I’m
so glad. I don’t know what came over me. When I said those things
I—”

“
You needn’t worry about it
any longer,” Elsie interrupted hastily. Jenny hated to be wrong and
rarely admitted it when she was, but when she finally mustered up
the will to apologize, she was known to go on doing it for days at
a time. Though Elsie had been gone from London for less than a
week, it suddenly seemed a very long time to have gone without a
genuine conversation with a friend. “Let’s talk about something
else. What’s happened while I’ve been away?”

Jenny sucked in a quick breath, and
though she struggled to make it out, Elsie could easily imagine the
look of reluctant censure that was surely spreading across her
friend’s face. “The trial has been the talk of the house, of
course.”

Elsie nodded. Of course it had been.
How could they avoid talking about it when she’d returned to London
for the very purpose of testifying on Damon’s behalf? “He’s not
guilty.”

“
You’re sure?” Jenny didn’t
sound convinced, though she didn’t state her doubt outright –
probably only because she and Elsie had just made up.

“
Yes,” Elsie replied
adamantly. “I’m going to testify on his behalf in court today. I
saw him at home at the same time Lord Griffith’s body was
discovered, still warm. He couldn’t have killed him.”

“
You’re sure it was Damon
you saw? It’s not possible that you could have mistaken someone
else for him, from a distance perhaps, or—”

“
I’m sure.” Hopefully Jenny
wouldn’t notice the blush that had crept across Elsie’s cheeks.
God, she was sure, but there wasn’t half a chance she’d reveal the
circumstances of her sighting to Jenny. “Anyway, I’m sure Damon
will be found innocent. What else is there to discuss? What’s
happened here in the house during the past few days?”

“
Nothing of import. Mr. and
Mrs. Remington have been quite upset over the accusation against
Damon, but that’s to be expected. What of you and Hertfordshire?
Has the country air improved your condition?”

Elsie shook her head slowly.
Apparently, the exact state of her health wasn’t known yet among
the servants here in London. Jenny probably didn’t even realize
that Elsie could hardly make out her facial features. “Not yet. I
had two attacks at Hertfordshire, and my eyesight has been
damaged.” She thought of Damon’s offer as Jenny drew a sharp
breath. “Don’t worry too much on my account. I have a feeling that
the country air will do me much good in time.”

Jenny’s voice was shaky. “I certainly
hope so.”

“
It will.”

“
How affected is your
eyesight? Can you see at all?”

“
Yes. I can see, but
everything appears blurred to me, as if I’m gazing through a foggy
window. It’s not as bad as it was at first, though. I’m sure I’m
recovering.” She didn’t share the physician’s diagnosis with Jenny.
It would only upset her, and if Elsie accepted Damon’s offer, there
would be no need to ever tell her.

“
I hope things aren’t
blurred too badly for you. No doubt you’ll want to see Damon’s
fiancé. She’s supposed to arrive here for a visit any day now, and
everyone says she’s a great beauty.” Jenny tempered her praise with
the sort of judicious comment Elsie had long ago learned to expect
after a compliment. “Though I’ve heard nothing of her intelligence.
I suppose she’s wealthy and comely enough that she doesn’t need
it.”