Miss Perkins pulled away and smiled at Bentford as if he made her the happiest person in the world.
Cordelia’s stomach knotted and her chest grew heavy. “I am afraid that I can’t help you today, Ianthe.”
“But I need you,” she cried.
Cordelia could not cry in front of the child but if she didn’t leave now, she would. “I’m sorry. I don’t wish to disappoint, but I just can’t today.”
Turning on her heel, Cordelia ran from Nightshade Manor. She didn’t stop running until she finally gained her own chamber, closed the door, then threw herself on the bed and cried her heart out.
Ianthe was a child and didn’t understand. She loved her uncle and would have been upset by any woman he spent time with. It was a child’s jealousy, which she would need to overcome because clearly Bentford had made his choice.
Chapter 19
The moment suppercame to an end, Damon wasted no time and retreated to his library and closed the door. There he sipped brandy and contemplated his future.
He did not want to marry Miss Perkins, of that he was certain.
Nor could it be Cordelia.
That’s what hurt the most. He wanted her and not just in his bed or as a companion, but by his side. She soothed his inner turmoil. He hadn’t even been aware that he’d been nearly constantly under stress until he spent time with her, and it disappeared. He was at ease with Cordelia and any burden he carried seemed light when she was around.
If only she were a witch.
Damon took another drink.
Cordelia knew even less about witchcraft than he did and would be unable to guide his nieces.
Damon had tried not to think of a future with Cordelia, but it was nearly impossible after today and especially after they’d waltzed. He was going to give consideration to her after the darkness passed. But now, knowing that it was impossible, his heart ached. A pain he’d never experienced before outside of when his brothers had been killed. Except Cordelia hadn’t died, his hope had.
You believe you want one thing when it is another that you need. Those had been Brighid’s words and Damon now understood. She had sensed how much he had wanted Cordelia, but she wasn’t what he needed.
Though her prophesies may be true, that did not mean it hurt any less.
If only he could figure out what she’d meant by flowering vines.
The door of the library slowly creaked open and Damon prepared to tell whoever it was to leave, fearing it was Miss Perkins. He really didn’t have time for her now. He never would.
Instead, it was Ianthe. Her young face was scrunched with worry, and he hated to see her as such. His niece should be laughing and joyful. All children should be.
“May I speak with you, Uncle Damon?”
“You can always speak with me,” he assured her.
“Does that include me as well?” his mother demanded as she came up from behind her granddaughter.
He wished to tell his mother to go way but wouldn’t be so disrespectful.
“Of course, but please close the door behind you. I don’t wish to be disturbed by anyone else. Though he’d make an exception for Nephele and Clio.
“I don’t want you to marry her, Uncle Damon,” Ianthe blurted out.
“Who?”
“Miss Perkins. She is a trickster.”
Damon looked to his mother, who seemed more alarmed than concerned.
“Why do you say so, Ianthe?”
