Chapter 175: Chapter Hundred And Seventy Four
Morning came quickly. The bright sun rose high in the sky, chasing away the cold shadows of the night.
The old Benson estate was bustling with activity. Down in the large courtyard, the servants were busy preparing the carriages. Everything was completely set for their departure. It was time for Damon and Camilla to return to their own mansion.
Camilla walked out the front doors of the estate. She was wearing a simple traveling dress the old duke had prepared for her. She looked refreshed after her long sleep.
She stood near the open door of their carriage, waiting for Damon to finish speaking with the guards.
Suddenly, she heard the sound of a wooden cane hitting the stone pavement.
Click. Clack.
Camilla turned her head.
Duke Carson was walking slowly toward her. But he was not alone.
Walking just one step behind the old Duke were Lady Adeline and her daughter, Elora.
Camilla almost did not recognize the two noblewomen. They looked absolutely terrible. Their faces were incredibly pale, completely drained of all their usual arrogance and pride. They looked terrified, shaking slightly with every step they took.
Duke Carson brought them right in front of Camilla.
The old Duke stopped and leaned on his silver cane. He gave the two women a very sharp, commanding glare.
"Go ahead," Duke Carson ordered them strictly. His voice left no room for argument.
Lady Adeline kept her head bowed low. She did not dare to look Camilla in the eye.
"Lady Camilla," Adeline spoke. Her voice was raspy and completely broken. "I... I sincerely apologize for my terrible behavior yesterday. I was completely wrong. I am deeply sorry for causing you any trouble."
Elora stepped forward next. She kept her hands clasped tightly together.
"I apologize too, Sister-in-law," Elora whispered, her voice shaking with fear. "Please forgive my foolishness. I will never speak ill of you again."
Camilla stood still. She looked at the two women. She knew they were not sorry because they felt guilty. They were sorry because someone had terrified them into submission.
As Camilla looked at Elora, her sharp eyes noticed a very specific detail.
Elora was wearing a dress with a very high, tight collar that reached all the way up to her chin. But the collar had slipped open just a tiny fraction of an inch.
Peeking out from underneath the edge of the fabric, Camilla clearly noticed a dark, ugly, purple and black bruise wrapped around Elora’s neck. It was the distinct shape of large fingers. Someone had choked her violently.
Camilla stared at the bruise for a second.
Her mind worked quickly. "A bruise on the neck?" Camilla thought to herself. "And they are acting like beaten dogs today. Who did that?"
She slowly turned her eyes to look at Damon, who was standing a few feet away, watching the apologies with a completely cold, uncaring expression on his face.
"Ah," Camilla thought, putting the pieces together. "He must have gone down to visit them in their holding cells last night while I was sleeping. He really is a tyrant."
But Camilla did not care. She shrugged her shoulders internally. She decided to brush it away entirely.
"Well, it isn’t my business," Camilla thought casually. "They tried to hit me with a wooden post. If he choked them a little bit, they probably deserved it. I am not going to ask any questions."
Camilla put on her best, most innocent, forgiving smile. She looked at the old Duke.
"Thank you, Grandfather," Camilla said out loud softly. "I accept their apologies completely. Let us leave the past behind us."
Duke Carson smiled warmly, very pleased with her gentle grace. He waved his hand, dismissing Adeline and Elora. The two women quickly turned around and hurried back into the estate, eager to escape.
Damon walked over to join them. He stood tall beside his wife.
Damon bowed deeply to his grandfather. "We are leaving now, Grandfather. Thank you for your hospitality."
Duke Carson nodded. He stepped forward and wrapped his old arms around Camilla, giving her a warm, fatherly hug.
"Take care of yourself, my dear child," Carson said softly. Then he patted her back gently. "And take care of him too."
Camilla pulled back from the hug. She smiled her sweetest smile.
"Of course, grandfather," Camilla replied obediently. "I will."
She hugged him one last time. Then, she turned around and gracefully entered the carriage. She sat down on the soft velvet seat, arranging her skirts. Damon climbed in right after her. He sat down on the opposite seat.
A footman closed the door.
Click.
The driver cracked his whip, the horses neighed, and the carriage slowly rolled out of the iron gates, beginning the journey back to their own mansion.
Inside the carriage, the atmosphere was completely silent.
The wheels bumped rhythmically over the dirt road.
Bump. Bump. Bump.
Damon sat with his broad back resting against the carriage wall. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He looked straight ahead, acting like his usual, cold, grumpy self.
Camilla sat across from him. She felt very bored. She did not want to talk, but she had nothing else to look at inside the small box of the carriage.
She let her eyes wander. She looked at his uniform. She looked at his crossed arms.
Then, she noticed his hands.
Damon was not wearing his leather gloves today. His bare hands were resting against his sleeves.
Camilla noticed his knuckles.
The skin on his right hand was red, raw, and heavily bruised. The knuckles were swollen, and there were small, dark scabs where the skin had been split open. It looked exactly like the hand of a man who had repeatedly punched something very hard, like a stone wall, or a human face.
Camilla stared at the raw skin.
She thought to herself. Her internal voice was quiet and observant.
"He’s injured," Camilla thought clearly.
Damon was sitting perfectly still with his eyes closed. He heard her notice his bruised knuckles.
Damon’s heart gave a sudden joyful leap inside his chest. He opened his eyes slightly.
He smiled a very small, secret smile.
He thought to himself, feeling incredibly proud and deeply satisfied.
"Finally," Damon rejoiced in his mind. "She is noticing me. She sees that I am hurt. She is paying attention to my body."
He waited eagerly. He expected her next move. A caring wife would immediately lean forward. She would gently take his injured hand in hers. She would ask him what happened with a voice full of deep concern. She might even pull out her handkerchief to wrap around his sore skin to protect it from the dust. He was fully prepared to act tough and tell her it was "nothing," while secretly enjoying her wifely attention.
Damon held his breath, waiting for her sweet voice to ask if he was okay.
Camilla kept staring at his bruised knuckles for one more second.
Then, Camilla shrugged in her mind.
"Aww, that’s bad," Camilla thought to herself. Her internal voice was flat, uncaring, and entirely dismissive.
She did not lean forward. She did not reach out to touch his hand. She did not ask him a single question. She did not care if he had punched a wall or a bear.
She simply turned her head away from him. She leaned her elbow on the edge of the carriage window, rested her chin on her hand, and looked out the window, quietly watching the green trees and the passing scenery outside. She looked really bored.
Damon sat frozen on his seat.
His small, hopeful smile instantly dropped off his face. He stared at her. She was literally ignoring him to look at a tree.
His heart, which had just leaped with joy, crashed violently back down into his stomach.
Damon thought to himself. His internal voice was a mixture of shock, disappointment, and total disbelief.
"That’s all?" Damon spoke silently inside his own head, staring at the side of her indifferent face. "She sees that I am bruised, and all she thinks is ’That’s bad’?! That is the entire extent of her concern for my well-being?!"
He tightened his arms across his chest. He glared at her. She was humming a soft, quiet tune as she watched the birds fly by outside the window, completely unbothered by his pain or his presence.
