And he could say the same about his own suitability for her. Most definitely he would make her a better husband than her prince or anyone else. He would make certain of it.
He would never purposely hurt her again, he was willing to swear his life on that. Eleanor's happiness was important to him. He would see that she had everything she desired… except for love, of course.
And that really was the crux of the matter-
Damon was glad that his reflections were interrupted as he reached his carriage.
“Home, my lord?” his coachman asked respectfully.
“Yes, Cavendish Square,” he answered, before settling on the squabs inside.
As the carriage drew away from the curb, he heard the echo of Eleanor's low voice. I want true love in my marriage. I want my husband to love me.
Turning, Damon gazed unseeingly out at the darkened streets of Mayfair. He couldn't give Eleanor the love she yearned for. He wouldn't allow himself. Not when he knew the devastation of losing his loved ones.
It had been twelve years, but he still felt the aching loss of his twin's death, still remembered the agonizing helplessness of watching his vital, fun-loving brother waste away from the cruel ravages of consumption.
Those last, bleak, heartbreaking images would be forever burned into his consciousness: Joshua's skin gray and mottled. His body shrunken by fever and racking coughs and drenching night sweats. His agony while spitting up blood from between his cracked lips as his tortured lungs struggled to draw breath.
Damon clenched his jaw as he fought to drive back the savage memories. In the last stages of the disease, little could be done to relieve a consumptive's terrible suffering, except to administer heavy doses of laudanum to provide oblivion for a few blessed hours at a time.
When the end had finally, mercifully come-when his brother was buried in the cold earth decades before his time-Damon was left with a soul-deep rage, along with a stark, soul-numbing loneliness. And then his brother's tragedy had been swiftly followed by his parents’ senseless deaths…
His grief had hardened him, Damon knew. He would do anything to avoid that pain again-the anguish of losing his very best friend, his shadow, and the parents he'd cherished.
Emptiness was preferable to feeling, so he'd purposely turned his heart to stone.
There was danger in wedding Elle, of course. Two years ago he'd allowed her to assume too much importance in his life. He'd let himself become enthralled with her-with her charm, her liveliness, her vitality.
Yet he was older and wiser now, Damon told himself. He could keep his emotional distance from Eleanor now that he was forewarned. They could have passion in their marriage without any real closeness or intimacy. A simple union of convenience, nothing more.
He could offer her friendship at least. She would never be lonely as his wife, he could promise her that much.
And he could and would vow fidelity in their marriage. Eleanor's accusation that he couldn't control his lustful urges and remain faithful to her was far off the mark. He'd been celibate for a while now, certainly since returning to England.
He hadn't kept a mistress either, not since dismissing his former paramour.
In truth, he'd decided to end his arrangement with Mrs. Lydia Newling the moment he met Eleanor.
He didn't miss the beautiful widow, even though their affair had lasted three years. There had been no emotional intimacy between them, because Damon had always taken care to keep their relationship strictly business. In that respect, Lydia was the perfect mistress for him. They'd had a mutually satisfying agreement. Damon paid her lavishly, and Lydia skillfully accommodated him when he sought refuge in sexual release.
He hadn't seen her since using her to help break off his betrothal to Eleanor, although he knew Lydia had a new protector. Otto Geary had mentioned her just the other day. Reportedly Lydia's sister was ill, so she had recently sought Otto's medical counsel.
Damon's grim expression turned sardonic as he recognized the irony of his thinking. The relationship he proposed to have with Elle was much the same as he'd had with Lydia: a strictly physical connection. He could understand why Eleanor would not be enamored of the idea.
He also understood why she would refuse to trust him after the way he had treated her.
He would have to prove himself deserving of her faith, Damon was well aware. And with patience, he might eventually win her acceptance.
Yet even if he wasn't able to convince her to wed him, Damon reflected, he would use any means necessary to prevent her from wedding her prince.
He couldn't save Joshua, but he would keep Elea nor safe.
Showing interest in another gentleman may rouse his jealousy to good effect, but take care not to go too far or else you may wake a slumbering devil. -An Anonymous Lady, Advice…
To Eleanor's dismay, she dreamed of Damon that night. As he roused her with his breath-stealing kisses and his tender, caressing hands, myriad emotions assaulted her-spellbinding intimacy, spiraling heat, stunning pleasure.
Her body dissolved beneath his skilled touches… but then somehow her dream changed from sensual fantasy to poignant memory.