appearance had caused several women to swoon and faint, but not this one. It was the very reason he’d allowed her to stay.
There was something about her—something that piqued his curiosity.
She was a tiny package, short and lean with supple curves and a steel spine. She’d pinned her sandy blond hair loosely at the back of her head, and her green eyes seemed to flash with the lightning. High cheekbones and bow-shaped lips set off her heart-shaped face.
She was stunning and seemed to possess more courage than any woman ought. And yet, there was a desperation about her. It was as if a fragile, damaged girl resided beneath her stone facade.
As lightning flashed its blue glow intermingling with the candelabra’s soft light, he trailed his gaze down the pale column of her swan-like neck. She held herself with grace and pride shone from her captivating eyes. He found himself very much wishing to know her better.
“Elspeth,” he whispered, trying her name on his tongue.
Her gaze flew to his, one sandy brow cocked. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” Damian reached for his wineglass.
She angled her head a fraction, the candlelight illuminating her fully. “I could have sworn you said my name.”
“Very well, so I did.” Damian took a swallow of the deep red vintage in his glass. “I cannot help but be curious about you. How is it that a duchess comes to be out in the moors alone?”
“I killed my husbands... both of them,” she said as she stabbed her fork into the ham on her plate.
Thunder shook the windows as he leaned closer. “Did you truly?” He could not conceive that she had, and yet, she’d said as much. He narrowed his gaze. “I do not believe I am dining with a murderess.”
“And so you are not, but it makes little difference when the rest of England says it is so.” She brought her wineglass to her lips and sipped.
Damian relaxed back in his chair, his attention trained on her. “Why would so many believe you capable, or rather culpable, of such acts?”
She sighed, her shoulders and chest rising and falling. “I married twice in less than a year.” She stared into his gaze as she notched her chin defiantly. “Two lords old enough to be my grandsire’s. Both died rather quickly after our weddings.”
So he had been correct. This woman bore deep scars, the kind incurred from tragedy and hardship. She was not so very unlike him, and perhaps that is why she overlooked his disfigurement.
“How did they die?” Damian asked.
Elspeth, he could not help but think of her as such, turned speculative at his question. The corners of her mouth twisted slightly, her chin puckering as she stared at him. He suspected she was considering how much to tell him.
Damian gave a sympathetic grin, then said, “You can trust me.” He showed his gnarled left side and added, “We both have scars. I will not judge you for yours.”
She tipped her head in a slight nod, then sighed. “I was merely considering my role in their deaths. My first husband, the viscount, was a cruel and foolish drunkard. He died six weeks after we were married. While over-imbibing, he accepted a bet that led to him being tossed from his mount, then trampled by another. I bore no responsibility as I had been at home when it happened. My second husband, however…”
Elspeth pulled in a breath, then reached for her wine.
“The duke was a kind man, though many years my senior. He wed me two months after the viscount’s death. I would have refused the suit, but my parents refused to hear of it. They demanded I remarry as quick as possible and threatened to cast me out if I refused.”
Damian toyed with the front of his cravat, pinching then smoothing a fold. “Did your parents also force your suit with the viscount?”
Elspeth nodded. “Indeed, they did, but I was young and eager to please at that point.” She laughed, a low hollow sound. “I am still young as it has scarcely been a year since my first marriage, but I am no longer so foolish. I fought against my parents where the duke was concerned. In the end, I truly had no choice.”
She held her arms out and shook her head. “Nonetheless, I find myself abandoned and without.”
Damian cringed, and for the first time, he wished he’d not allowed Willow Ridge Run to fall into disrepair. He moved his gaze from the faded red walls to the