Damon did not wait outsidefor Cordelia as he feared she’d leave if she saw him. However, he would speak to her before she left. He needed to make her understand that she’d been mistaken by what she’d seen. Unfortunately, he’d also need to tell her that his fate had been determined when he’d been born a Norcott male, and then apologize. He shouldn’t have flirted. He shouldn’t have teased and he sure as hell should not have waltzed.
She was the one he wanted, but Cordelia could never be his.
It was fitting. He’d decided three years ago not to wed until the last of his nieces had entered Society. Then along comes one miss who could alter his plans completely and he cannot have her. Nor did he have the luxury of waiting so long. Not if he wished to be fair to his mother.
His heart ached. Damon hadn’t realized how attached he’d become to Cordelia until he was told she could not be his.
Of course, maybe he was only experiencing these pangs because he’d been told no.
Except, he’d been rejected before, and the only emotion he ever felt was a bit of disappointment. Disappointment didn’t even begin to describe the loss—as if there was now a hole in his soul that could only be filled with one person.
Damon hoped Cordelia understood and didn’t hate him, though he might if he were in her place.
Unless he imagined there was something growing between them. It wasn’t like they’d shared a kiss—just secrets. He trusted her in a world where he could trust nobody outside of his family.
His heart began a heavy steady hammering the moment she appeared beside the bushes that sheltered the back gate, followed by a heaviness in his chest and Damon stood at the window and watched while she and Ianthe went through the witches’ calm. When they were coming to the end, and while her eyes were closed, arms out and face tipped to the sun, he exited the manor and quietly walked to the small patch of wildflowers, stood at the edge and waited beside Edward who also watched.
Normally Edward would acknowledge him with a nod. Today he glared.
The lad may fight with his older sister, but if Edward suspected that Cordelia had been hurt by Damon, he’d immediately come to her defense.
It was an admirable trait and spoke well of the maturity Edward sometimes lacked.
Cordelia blew out a long breath then let her arms drift to her side, opened her eyes and looked down at Ianthe.
“Do you feel better now?”
“Yes, Miss Cordelia. Thank you.”
She leaned forward. “I do too.”
“Good afternoon, Cordelia,” Bentford greeted.
She immediately stiffened, closed her eyes, and slowly stood. He’d not seen her so rigid before, nor had she ever schooled her features as she did now. “Lord Bentford,” she returned in a cool, crisp tone.
“Please, walk with me?”
“Thank you, but I must return home.”
“I only ask for a few moments.”
“Very well.” She drew back her shoulders and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.
Bentford didn’t say anything at first but led her toward the back of the manor and then crossed the lower terrace until he reached the edge of his mother’s garden. Here they could not be heard, though Ianthe and Edward watched from afar. Edward still scowled while Ianthe frowned in curiosity.
“I wish to explain.”
“Explain?” she questioned with a confused frown.
Was she going to pretend he’d not been kissed by another?
“What you may have seen yesterday.”
“The snow was rather a surprise. I’ve rarely seen it in the winter, let alone summer.”
“You know that is not what I mean.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have kissed Miss Perkins where you could be seen if you are concerned with what others may think.”
