Page 8

CHAPTER 8

“ I have a surprise for you.”

That never ended well. Yet somehow Sarah kept her expression neutral as she followed Damien through the endless paths of his vast home. She’d gotten more accustomed to it, yet she still couldn’t quite make out the labyrinth of hallways. Finally, they entered the “Gold Room,” aptly named for its golden covered chairs and the golden accents atop every surface. Lamps, vases, bowls and more glittered in dazzling away, set off by the golden embers of the fireplace, which scented the room with a woodsy and warm aroma. She was afraid to ask how many ornaments were actually crafted of the precious material

“A visitor?” She stopped, her slippers nearly sliding on the polished floor, as she caught sight of the man waiting on the settee. As always, Damien somehow anticipated her movements, as he reached out to steady her. Immediate suspicion rose in her, but she pushed it down. Apart from being authoritative, he hadn’t been what she’d expected. She hadn’t expected to enjoy her time with him so much.

Or to want there to be far more of it.

Damien performed the introductions. Apparently, the man was called Mr. Tennant and was a long-time associate of Damien’s Yet despite that or perhaps because of it, she couldn’t quite eradicate all wariness as the man rose. “A pleasure to meet you. Damien has told me all about you, specifically your writing.”

The wariness flamed to full strength. Her writing was shared in private and wasn’t to be shared. This was why she kept her endeavors secret.

“I am especially interested in your interest in nature.”

Her cheeks flamed. Was he making fun of her? Had Damien also told him about her fictional flora? Did he think he could just make fun of her? Perhaps it was time for him to see how it felt.

“I am certain you are,” she gushed. “People from wide and far come to hear all about the dweedledoof.”

Mr. Tennant looked perplexed. “I’m sorry?”

And Damien looked alarmed. “Sarah–”

She stopped him with a hand. “That’s okay. I want to share everything. I don’t feel Damien appreciates the dweedledoof like I do.”

Mr. Tennant looked toward Damien, as if searching for guidance. Damien looked as if he was rather hoping a hole would open up in the ground to swallow him. Or perhaps her?

Both looked as if they wanted to speak, but Mr. Tennant did first, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what a dweedledoof is. I meant your stories. Damien said you wrote a tale about children who visit an enchanted forest. I work for a publisher, you see, and I would be willing to read your work, if you have something ready for perusal.”

Oh. No.

Oh. No.

Oh. No.

What could she say to fix this? Apparently, nothing, since she just stood there, staring at him like a wooden puppet. Finally, Damien stepped in. “Don’t mind her little jest from before. Her great wit is what makes her a wonderful writer. Would you like to send him some of your work when you are ready, Sarah?”

All the words had been plucked from the world, so Sarah just nodded. This was… amazing, wonderful and astounding. A chance to show her work to a real publisher. And even though she’d clearly misinterpreted Damien’s intentions and embarrassed both of them, he still wanted to help her. “Thank you,’ she finally managed.

“Of course, my dear.” He nodded toward Damien. “I’d do anything for my star author. Although if you’re as good as he claims, you’ll be doing me a favor.”

Damien had done that for her? She couldn’t hide her wonder – or smile – as she glanced back at him. Then she stopped, turned back to the publisher. “Did you say star author?”

“Oh dear.” Now Mr. Tennant looked rueful. Next to him, Damien stiffened. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything. But it will be fairly difficult to hide if you also work for me. I’m afraid I have another engagement to attend. I’m sure Damien can tell you the details.”

They said their farewells. Damien left to see Mr. Tennant out, returning moments later. For once he seemed the wary one, as he poured himself a drink.

Yet she had softened toward him. What he had done for her was astounding. She was grateful, but right now there was another mystery to solve. “Why did you do this?” she blurted out. She flushed. “I’m sorry, I should be grateful. I am grateful. It’s just I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple.” He walked slowly toward her. “You are a wonderful writer. You deserve the chance to show your work to someone who can share it with others. As Mr. Tennant said, I am doing him a favor as much as you. Your work was fantastic.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I’m sorry about before. I thought…”

“That I was making fun of you?” he guessed correctly. She nodded. “I figured as much, but you underestimate me. I would never do anything to hurt you.” His voice softened. “Do you believe me?”

Yes, she did. She gave him a bright smile. “Now I want to know what he meant about you being his star author.”

His neutral look melted into a grimace. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten about that.”

She tilted her head. “Did you really?”

“It was not a realistic hope,” he admitted. He breathed deeply, as if questioning what to reveal. Would he hedge again? “As I told you, I also like to write. I have written books with modest success.”

“Really?” She didn’t need to feign her interest. “Would I know of any of them? Do you use a different name?”

He nodded. “I go by E.L. Carruthers.”

She opened her mouth. “E.L. Carruthers is one of the most famous writers in England. His books are wildly popular, and for good reason. They are fantastic. You’re not telling me you’re him.”

His grimace never left, but he nodded. “I am.”

“Wow.” Because there really wasn’t anything more to say. This man was far more than he portrayed.

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather you not share this with anyone. Not even my family knows, only my publisher.”

Why he would want to keep such great success to himself was a mystery, but it was his right. As part of the ton, she understood what it was like to have others make decisions that should be yours. “It will be our secret.” She gave him a big smile. “Now I have to find a way to repay you.”

“Want to go to the garden to look for dweedledoof?”

She grinned. “I’d like nothing more.”