Then suddenly losing all her defiance, Eleanor climbed onto her bed where she lay on her side, staring at nothing.
The bright glare shining through the windows, however, reminded her how hopeful she had been this morning. She did not feel hopeful now. One moment she felt hollow, numb. The next, agony tightened her chest, and so did fury.
She hurt so much she wanted to die. She wanted to murder. She wanted to scream, to cry, to stamp her feet hysterically. She wanted to curl up into a little ball of pain and have the world go away.
Worst of all, a significant part of her wanted to go to Damon and plead with him to reconsider.
Furiously Eleanor dashed a hand over her burning eyes. She would not cry over that wicked Lothario! She had known Damon was a heartless rake, and he had proved it once again. She would simply have to come to terms with that painful truth and establish a new life for herself, separate and apart from him.
And yet she didn't want to leave him, didn't want to live without him. Without Damon, her life would be empty. He brightened her day. He filled her with wild excitement. He thrilled her with passion. He banished the loneliness.
With him, she felt more complete.
Eleanor swallowed hard as defiance struck her anew. Hadn't she vowed to make Damon give up his rakish ways? Then why was she lying here in this pathetic fashion?
She didn't want to accept that Damon wanted another woman more than her. She would not accept it.
She loved him enough to fight for him.
Gritting her teeth, Eleanor sat up abruptly. She intended to do whatever it took to pry him away from that hussy's clutches.
Angry tears scalded the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall as she leapt off the bed and marched from the room. Instead of packing to return to London, she would order the Beldon carriage made ready.
She intended to go straight to the Boar's Head Inn and confront Damon face-to-face!
Fortitude and mettle are required if you hope to influence Fate to your benefit. -An Anonymous Lady, Advice…
When Damon arrived back at Rosemont, Horace Linch was still in the stableyard, keeping watch on Vecchi's lackey, Paolo Giacomo. And luncheon, Damon learned from the majordomo, was already underway in the smaller dining room.
Stifling his impatience to join Eleanor there, Damon instead took the opportunity to search Vecchi's quarters while the diplomat was thus occupied.
It proved an easy matter to discover from an upstairs maid which rooms had been allotted to the Italian guests. And it was not much harder to find the evidence needed to implicate the signor.
Inside a bureau drawer Damon discovered a powdered tin of ipecac. Even more damning was a silk pouch containing two small arrows and a tiny vial of amber liquid-clearly the same curare arrows that had incapacitated Prince Lazzara and caused him to fall headfirst into the Thames and nearly drown.
Carrying the items with him, Damon made his way downstairs to the dining room. Upon entering, he spied Haviland and gave a brief nod, conveying with a glance that his mission had been successful.
Eleanor was not there, Damon noted with a stab of disquiet, but he forced himself to concentrate on the task of exposing Vecchi for his villainy.
Approaching the diplomat at the dining table, Damon bent down to murmur in his ear. “I require a moment of your time, sir.”
When Vecchi glanced up, Damon held out the tin and the pouch of arrows.
Unmistakably, the signor paled.
Without protest, he rose from his seat and waited while Damon spoke quietly to Prince Lazzara.
“Will you join us, your highness? I believe this concerns you also.”
Lord Haviland followed them all from the dining room, down the corridor to a nearby parlor.
Once there, Damon displayed his treasures to the three men and explained his suspicions that the poisoned arrows and medicinal drug had been used to harm Prince Lazzara-all the while keeping his gaze trained on the prince's elder cousin.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Signor Vecchi?” Damon concluded.
Vecchi frowned. “Say? Why should I say anything? I have never seen those before.”
“I found these in your room, sir.”
The Italian's countenance darkened. “You pried into my personal belongings? What gentleman would do such at thing?”
Before Damon could reply, Lady Beldon swept into the room. “What is the meaning of this, Wrexham?” she demanded. “Are you purposely intent on spoiling my luncheon by dragging my guests away?”
Damon held up a hand, not wanting to be distracted. “Allow us a moment, if you please, my lady.”
Looking taken aback by his command, the viscountess started to sputter in indignation, but Damon ignored her and kept his gaze pinned on Signor Vec-chi.
“What will your servant say if we confront him with this evidence, sir? I myself saw Giacomo assault Prince Lazzara outside a London bazaar and steal his purse. My guess is that Giacomo also shot the curare arrow that day at the Royal Gardens and sabotaged the prince's carriage wheel in the Park. You, however, drugged the prince's cup at the ball and shoved him down the stairs at the opera.”
Vecchi's scowl merely deepened. “How dare you, sir! What right have you to accuse me? Perhaps this servant you speak of perpetrated such foul deeds, but I had naught to do with any of it.”
“You never attempted to murder your own cousin?”
“Certainly not!” Vecchi exclaimed, attempting to bluster his way out. “This is preposterous! And you can prove none of it!”
“Can I not?” Damon retorted smoothly. “Will Giacomo deny being your accomplice, or will he confess to save his own skin?”
Vecchi abruptly fell mute, evidently not trusting in his minion's loyalty. In the tense silence, Lady Beldon looked bewildered, while the prince's features were growing ever more grim.
“It seems we are at a momentary impasse,” Damon observed after a moment. “Haviland, will you be so kind as to summon Mr. Giacomo to us?”
“I would be delighted,” the earl responded lightly.
“Wait!”
Vecchi visibly gritted his teeth before hunching his shoulders, as if warding off a blow. Then exhaling a long breath, he bowed his head in surrender, all his defiance gone.
“A gentleman of honor would admit his mistakes,” Damon urged quietly. “Were you intent on murder or something less violent, Signor?”
Wincing, Vecchi shook his head. “It was never murder. I never intended his highness real harm.”
Prince Lazzara spoke for the first time, his tone edged with fury. “Then what did you intend, Cousin?”
Raising his head, Vecchi gazed at the prince imploringly. “Don Antonio, I merely wanted to impede your courtship of Lady Eleanora. I did not wish you to marry an Englishwoman, but your romance was proceeding at an alarming pace.”
The prince scowled. “You hoped to prevent me from wooing and winning Lady Eleanora?”