Curses and Cream Puffs

It thankfully didn't long for Lena to recover, but Damien still insisted that they take a break from their list. She didn't need to be traveling long distances if it was harmful for her health, and Damien was a little wary now that the Mortecombes family had them on their radar. According to Lena there were five siblings, but the things their father did were legend. Only because of how heinous the acts were.

Damien had briefly stopped by the manor to let his father know that Lena had come down with a cold and he was taking some time at home to help her, and it was almost like they had summoned Emelia to them. She burst into the training room with a list of everything Damien needed to do to help Lena recover, and insisting that he bring her over again.

To his surprise, Lena didn't seem too troubled by this. She hardly even looked up from the baking project she had in front of her. She just took a small spoonful of the whipped pink mixture and offered it to Damien.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Just taste it," she said.

He did as she asked, and found that the mousse was wonderful. It had a berry flavor to it, but wasn't overly sweet. Easily comparable to the patisserie they had gone to before, if not even better. He could help but feel a twinge of pride for his fake-wife. She dropped a few pieces of strawberry on the floor and Duchess came bounding between Damien's legs to snag it. He had never been much of a pet person, but it wasn't too much of a pest. She made Lena happy, and that's what mattered in the end.

"It's good," he said. "What are you making?"

"It's going to go on top of a chocolate pie," she said. "I think the sweet and tart flavors will go together nicely. And a little bit of bitterness from dark chocolate. What do you think?"

"I think you already know it's going to be good."

"You're right," she grinned. "I do. I'll take some for your mother, too."

"You're supposed to be sick," Damien reminded her. "Because you were sick. And I couldn't explain the smoke inhalation to them."

"We'll just say it was exhaustion or something," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Besides, I've been meaning to get this to your father."

Damien raised a brow as she showed him a jar containing some kind of homemade salve in it.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I noticed him holding his hand behind him a lot," she said. "He seems like he has a lot of back pain. This can help."

"You're an enigma," he said, shaking his head. "Why should you care about my father, who has dedicated his life to ending all witches?"

"Well, we can't make change if we don't show that we can be good," she said. "Right?"

He looked at the jar again.

"There's no magic in there, is there?" he questioned.

She didn't say anything, sheepishly brushing a piece of lint off the top of the jar.

"No," Damien said firmly. "I'm not letting you taking this anywhere near that house."

"It's completely minimal," she said, rolling his eyes. "He won't even notice it."

"And if he does?"

"He won't," she promised him. "Most of it comes as an herbal remedy. There's just a little... boost in there. To give him some energy. Your mother will appreciate it and he won't think anything beyond how nice the minty scent is."

Damien still didn't feel good about it, but she still brought it along with the pie when they went to the manor for dinner that night. Lena seemed a bit more confident this time, but still careful where she stepped. Part of it might have been the fact that for the first time in a little while, Louis wasn't there. Damien realized he hadn't seen him earlier, either.

"Louis isn't here tonight?" Damien asked Rupert as Emelia gushed over the pie Lena had brought.

"No," Rupert said. "He's looking after some incidents in Gambrone. He'll be gone a few days, I imagine."

"Too bad," Damien said, trying not to sound so sarcastic.

Lena looked at Rupert, jar in hand, then seemed to get nervous and stepped near Damien quietly. She lowered the jar and looked down at her feet. Damien felt a twinge of guilt, knowing how intimidating his father was to the average person. Let alone a witch.

"Father, how has your back been?" Damien asked. "Is it still acting up?"

"Everything is always acting up," Rupert grumbled. "I'm old and retired. It happens."

"Well," Damien said, looking at a nervous Lena. "Lena has a talent for homemade remedies."

Rupert looked at Lena and she nodded, offering the jar to him.

"I couldn't help but notice your limp," she told him. "I hope you don't find this too forward, but it's an old recipe my grandmother used. Just slather it wherever it hurts and wrap a bandage on it so it doesn't rub off."

Rupert's one good eye was wide with surprise. Damien wasn't sure he had ever seen his father so unsure of something. Not that he was unsure of the salve itself, but unsure of a random act of kindness towards him. He slowly took the jar from her and gave her a nod.

"Uh, thank you," he said. "I'll have to try it."

Lena gave him a bright smile, and Damien could have sworn his father almost smiled back. He looked at Emelia, almost as if to say 'Can you believe this'? She was beaming, then moved back to Lena and put an arm around her.

"You're so wonderful," she said. "You've been feeling ill, and you still have the rest of us on your mind."

"Oh, I'm fine," Lena said. "I think it was a passing stomach bug, that's all."

"Stomach bug?" Emelia asked, pausing briefly. "You don't mean... it's too soon for morning sickness, isn't it?"

"What?!" Damien said, practically wheezing.

"Oh, no," Lena said with a nervous laugh. "Oh, no no. Nothing like that. Just a bug, really."

"Oh, I see," Emelia said, somewhat disappointed.

Damien was so red in the face that he couldn't function properly enough to respond to his incredibly presumptuous mother. Rupert didn't even say anything. He was still examining the jar with interest, sniffing it. Damien was in awe. What was his family becoming?

"Well, if you're feeling better," Emelia said, "You should absolutely accompany us to Ferdinand Astor's wedding."

Rupert made a strangled scowl-like noise.

"We're not going to that," he said. "This is his third wife. Next year there will be an invitation for his wedding to his fourth wife.

"He's your cousin," Emelia protested. "We have to go. And everyone will be there. They'll want to know about Damien and his new wife."

Rupert thought for a moment.

"Well," he sighed. "I suppose you're right. They've heard about Damien's success. They'll want to see him and ask him for themselves."

"And his wife."

"Yeah, yeah. Wife. Yeah."

Damien grimaced. He had forgotten about the wedding. Frankly, he had assumed he wasn't going. It made sense for them to go now, though. Like his mother said, everyone and anyone who had any influence in society would be there. And he and Lena were the hit of the gossip, both with his success as a hunter and with their sudden "marriage".

"I'm not sure I have something to wear to a wedding," Lena admitted.

"Oh, not a problem," Emelia said. "Damien can give you some money and the two of us can find something suitable to wear. Isn't that right, Damien?"

"Uh, yeah."

He was forced to keep that promise. He was nervous to let Lena off with his mother alone, but knowing his mother, she'd be too lost in playing dress up with Lena to ask too many incriminating questions. Lena came back with a lot more in her arms than the spending money Damien had given her paid for, looking absolutely exhausted. Emelia had gotten her outfits not just for the wedding, but for every wedding they would ever have to go to.

When the night of the wedding finally rolled around, Damien wasn't sure what he had expected. He had been ready long before she was, making a mental list of all the guests that would be in attendance and the lies he had told, just so he'd be able to keep up with them. Then Lena came downstairs and his mind went blank.

She was wearing a deep green ballgown with matching emerald jewelry and emerald gems pinned up in her dark hair. She was still putting on her earrings and paused at the bottom of the stairs.

"What is it?" she asked. "Is it too much?"

"N-no," Damien said, standing up. "You look good. I mean, yeah, good. Great. You look nice."

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "Your mother has good taste."

"Well, you're the one who makes it work," he said, knowing his face turned red when he did.

She gave him another shy smile, then stepped up and straightened out his collar and the pin with his emblem.

"Why don't you tell me about who I should look out for on our way there?"

"Y-yeah. Okay."