Even though her fury was clearly not over, however, she returned to sit beside him, and her voice softened to something resembling a plea. “You have to talk about your brother sometime, Damon. You cannot continue to keep all your pain inside you. An unhealed wound will only fester.”
He knew what she was asking. He needed to bare his soul to her. More crucially, he had to open his heart to her.
“What do you want me to say, Elle?”
“I want you to tell me how you feel instead of always denying your hurt. I want you to be able to talk about Joshua with me. I want to know all about him. What is the best thing you remember about him from when you were boys?”
Damon frowned. It wasn't easy to speak of his brother, or to deal with the grief that still festered inside him. But he found he wanted to share this with Eleanor.
“Joshua was my closest friend,” Damon finally said in a low, rough voice. “Losing him was like losing a limb. But it was the way he died that was most painful. Watching him suffer as he wasted away to a pale skeleton… I would rather have died myself.”
“That is why your nightmares are so tormenting, isn't it? You relive his suffering and are helpless to save him.”
“Yes.”
Her brows drew together in compassion. “Mr. Geary said he tended Joshua's sickbed. Was there nothing that could be done to relieve his suffering?”
“The best we could do was to drug him with laudanum so he could find oblivion from the pain for a few hours at a time.”
Eleanor fell quiet for a moment before she reached over and slipped her hand into Damon's. “You and Joshua must have had good times together before he fell ill.”
Damon nodded, remembering. “Our boyhood was everything a boyhood should be.”
“Would it help if you tried to think of the happy times instead of his last days?”
“Perhaps.”
“What if you had something to remind you? Do you have a portrait of Joshua when he was still healthy?”
He shrugged. “There is one of the both of us when we were fourteen, hanging in the gallery at Oak Hill.”
“Your family seat in Suffolk? I would like very much to see it.”
Damon felt himself stiffen. “That would entail visiting. I haven't spent much time there except for duty calls. I have an excellent factor who manages the estate so I am not obliged to.”
“Let me guess. You have avoided your home all these years because Joshua died there.”
There was no need for him to reply since she had hit on the truth.
“Perhaps,” Eleanor suggested, “you should spend some time there. It would give you a chance to summon back the good memories.”
He didn't respond, although he knew she had a point.
“Was Joshua much like you?” Eleanor asked. “Did you look exactly alike?”
“We were spitting images.”
“Was he a vexing rogue like you?”
Damon gave a soft huff of laughter. “He could be. Joshua was far from a saint. The pranks he used to play on me were devilishly wicked.”
“And I'll wager you played similar pranks on him. You must have been a double terror to your parents.”
His mouth curved faintly. Then his smile slipped as sadness washed over him. “He was so full of life, so vital.”
“Just like you,” Eleanor murmured. Startling Damon, she turned to him and flung her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight, fierce hug.
She held him that way for a long while, and Damon allowed it, pressing his face into her hair. The pain started to ease a small measure as he accepted-no, welcomed-the solace Elle offered him.
Yet it soon became clear that she was not only set on comforting him but on exhorting him.
“You must forgive yourself, Damon,” she murmured in his ear. “You have to let go if you are ever to begin healing. Isn't that what Joshua would have wished for you? Do you honestly think he would have wanted you to punish yourself all these years?”
He knew the answer to that question, Damon realized as a forgotten memory pushed its way into his mind: that final day of his brother's life, when he'd bent down to hear Joshua's last words to him.
“Live… for… me,” he rasped through his cracked lips.
Damon swallowed against the constriction in his throat. He had buried that painful memory along with all his other emotions.
“No,” Damon responded in a raw voice. “My brother would not want me to keep punishing myself. He would have wanted me to live life to the fullest.”
“Of course he would,” Eleanor said with conviction. “Still, you are the only one who can grant yourself absolution, Damon. Until then you will continue denying yourself any chance for real happiness, and me as well. That is why I want to throttle you,” she whispered fiercely even as she clung to him.
Grasping her arms in a gentle grip, Damon extricated himself from her embrace and held her away. “My throat is entirely at your disposal, Elle, but I would rather you delay your craving for violence for a moment. I have something to say to you. A confession, if you will.”
When she eyed him warily, Damon held her gaze steadily in return. “You asked me why I kept my recent meeting with Lydia a secret from you. It's because I didn't want to drive you away again, as I foolishly did two years ago.”
“Foolishly?” Eleanor said slowly. “You think inciting me to end our betrothal was foolish?”
Damon responded with a wry twist of his lips. “Foolish, imbecilic, idiotic, dimwitted-and yes, craven. And I regret it more than I can ever say.”
She drew a shaky breath. “I was so afraid you intended to return to Lydia, Damon.”
“I am sorry, sweetheart.” Seeing the bruises in the depths of her eyes, the vulnerability, Damon damned himself for causing Eleanor pain. He'd cherished her, but he'd deliberately hurt her, both then and now. He would make it up to her, he swore silently.
As she stared at him, he clasped her hand more tightly, entwining their fingers. “You had me dead to rights, Elle. I never wanted to care that much for anyone again, to allow myself to hurt that way. So when I realized how close I was growing to you during our betrothal, I reacted out of fear. These past two weeks, however, I've experienced a revelation. Not having you in my life is far more painful than the risk of losing you.”
It was Eleanor's turn to swallow. “Damon, it isn't possible to have a future with no pain, no regrets, no unhappiness.”
“I know, but with you, my odds of happiness are infinitely greater. You are my happiness. I love you, Elle.”
Biting her lower lip, she searched his face as if not daring to believe. “You love me? Are you certain?”
Damon reached up to stroke her cheek. “Utterly absolutely certain. I fought against it, God knows. The entire time I was in Italy, I tried to dismiss you from my mind. I wanted to forget all about you, but it was hopeless. And when I returned to find you being courted by that Lothario… I couldn't let you wed him and walk out of my life forever. I couldn't lose you again when you were the only woman I could ever hope to love.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “I think I must be dreaming. You truly love me?”