by Adele Clee
Eve threw her hands in the air as she scanned the stained silk. “What on earth will Aunt Beatrice think when she sees me like this?”
Alexander pursed his lips. “I’d worry more about the state of your hair. All you need now is a bundle of rushes, and we could go door-to-door shouting chairs to mend.”
“It’s not funny.”
“We could always say you fell when Sutherby grabbed you.”
She raised a brow. “Despite the fact he’s a rogue, I will not lie to my aunt.”
“Well, we can hardly tell the truth.” He stepped closer and straightened the neckline of her gown, purely to satisfy the need to touch her again. “Leave it to me. I can be very persuasive in times of need.”
They crept up through the garden; well she crept, Alexander walked behind her at his usual pace. Regardless of what happened or whoever they encountered, they would have no choice but to believe whatever story he told them.
As they passed the ornamental pond, Eve suddenly stopped and without the slightest warning bent down and thrust her hands into the murky water.
“What on earth are you doing?” he said, unable to hide his surprise or shock when she tipped the contents of her cupped hands over her head.
Rivulets of water ran down her cheeks, and something resembling green sludge clung to the mussed strands of hair.
“I thought I could say it was raining,” she said offering him a weak smile.
Alexander glanced up at the cloudless sky and then back to her bedraggled locks. For the first time in two years, a snigger burst from his lips, and he put his hand to his chest as a laugh erupted.
It felt good to release years of suppressed tension. His body became suddenly lighter, and his shoulders dropped an inch. The evil that plagued him was instantly forgotten, and he felt like any other carefree gentleman about his leisure.
Eve laughed too, and he imagined picking her up and swinging her around and around in a bid to prolong the beautiful sound.
“I am half-expecting you to jump in,” he said.
As her gaze searched his face, her laugh became a warm smile. “You should try laughing more often. When you smile, you look rather dashing.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything to smile about,” he said, but then regretted his choice of words as he knew her curious nature would be intrigued by his comment.
Her expression grew solemn. “You mean your horrendous event in a carriage? Was it an accident?”
Knots formed in his stomach. “Something like that. It was an unfortunate incident, and I was the only casualty.”
She placed her hand on his arm. “Well, it is all behind you and you must try not to think of it. Terrible things happen to good people every day. As difficult as it may be, you must try to focus on the here and the now.”
While he appreciated the words of comfort, it would never be behind him. He would never be free of his affliction.
“I shall heed your wise words,” he said offering a respectful bow. “I shall focus on the now. At this present moment, we need to get you inside before it starts raining frogs as well as algae.”
They entered the house through the double doors leading into the drawing room. He’d never ravished a lady in her garden or escorted her safely home after the event. Where Evelyn Bromwell was concerned, everything felt new and unchartered.
“I can’t hear anything,” she said putting her ear to the door.
She opened the door, and he followed her out into the hall, trying not to appear too confident. When they tiptoed past the parlour, she turned to him and breathed a sigh, and almost bumped into the maid as she darted around the newel post.
“Goodness, miss. You scared me half to death. Your aunt’s just returned. I told her you’d not come home yet.”
The maid glanced up at Alexander and then tried her best not to stare at Eve’s hair.
“Where is Aunt Beatrice?” Eve whispered.
“She’s waiting in there.” The maid pointed to the parlour door. “She’s been pacing back and forth for the last few minutes. Shall I tell her you’re home?”
“No. We’re late because we got stuck in the rain.” Eve cast Alexander a sidelong glance, the look in her eyes wild and desperate.
“Miss Bromwell is rambling,” he said, staring at the maid and focusing on the golden flecks in her brown eyes. “Don’t you remember letting us in? You told me to wait in the drawing room almost fifteen minutes ago before you escorted Miss Bromwell upstairs.”
The girl looked at him with wide eyes and then blinked rapidly.
“Miss Bromwell is going up to bed,” he continued. He took Eve’s hand and brought it to his lips. With a discreet roll of the eyes, Alexander gestured to the stairs. “Good night, Miss Bromwell. We will discuss the night’s events when I see you tomorrow.”
“Until tomorrow,” she said offering a coy smile.
He watched her climb the stairs and then turned to the maid. “You should explain your mistake to your mistress.”
Without another word, the maid knocked on the door and entered the room opposite.
“Begging your pardon, madam, but I made a mistake. Miss Bromwell is already at her bed, and the gentleman has been waiting in the drawing room for your return.”
“Goodness, girl. You said they hadn’t arrived home. I’ve got a good mind to check the decanters. Next, you’ll be sleeping in till ten and saying you’d forgotten what time it is.”
“Shall I call the gentleman in, madam?”
“Yes, unless you’ve forgotten how to find your way to the drawing room.”
As soon as Alexander stepped over the threshold, Beatrice Penrose rushed to greet him.
“My lord, I cannot thank you enough for coming to my niece’s assistance. Lord Markham explained all about Sutherby’s appalling antics. Why, the man is a rogue, a veritable scoundrel and not fit for polite society.” She gestured to the chairs. “Please, won’t you sit down.”
“Indeed.” The lady would think him fit for the fiery pits of Hell if she knew of his secret. “It was fortunate for Miss Bromwell that I happened to be passing. I believe the gentleman’s affable nature was far from an accurate portrayal of his true character.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Sutherby had us all fooled.”
Not all, he thought. Alexander had sensed deceit from the moment he’d met him.
“Your friend, Lord Markham, escorted Mr. Sutherby from the ballroom, discreetly of course. Although Miss Sutherby seemed most put out. And you are a hero, my lord. Lord Markham told a lively tale of how you tackled the savage to the ground. In the few short days of our acquaintance, you have saved my life and the reputation of my niece. I assume you were discreet in your attentions?”
“Discreet?” Alexander squirmed in his seat. He didn’t want praise — not when his thoughts and actions had been purely selfish.
“It wouldn’t do to have Evelyn parading around the streets with an unmarried gentleman. Although under the circumstances, I see that there was little option.”
“We came the longer route through the quieter streets and then in through the garden. I assure you, we were not seen. With regard to Mr. Sutherby, I am pleased Miss Bromwell has witnessed the real man hiding behind such a charming facade.”
“Who would have thought it?” she said shaking her head. “He appeared to be so kind, so courteous. And yet at the first opportunity, he thrust his amorous ways on an innocent girl. To think Evelyn had considered marrying him.” The woman’s gaze drifted over his attire, and she frowned. “Please accept my apologies, my lord, for the poor condition of your clothing. You should send Sutherby the bill for a new shirt and neckcloth.”
“It is of no consequence. The pleasure gleaned from such a vigorous activity was payment enough.”
Mrs. Penrose shuffled forward in her seat. “I have always enjoyed a good fight, gets the old blood pumping.”
Oh, his blood had been pumping.
“I believe any form of exercise is good for the con
stitution,” he replied. “Indeed, I feel better than I have done in years.”
“Well, you do appear rather invigorated. Now, we have taken up far too much of your time, my lord. I only hope my niece saw fit to thank you properly.”
“She could not have been any more appreciative.”
“I dare say, we should put the matter of Mr. Sutherby behind us. Although I must admit to being a little disappointed. I have been invited to go to India with Mr. Hartwood. He helped establish a judicial system in Madras and other provinces are eager for his advice and support.”
A sudden wave of panic raced through him, gripping him by the throat and squeezing tight.
“India?”
“Mr. Hartwood has asked me to marry him,” she said clapping her hands together. “I have been a long time widowed and well …”
“Is Miss Bromwell to accompany you on your trip?”
“I haven’t mentioned it to her yet. But under the present circumstances, I see no other option. Of course, if she were settled here, then it would be a different matter.”
He understood the implication behind the woman’s words. But he could not offer marriage, or children, or any sort of future. Guilt, for taking her virginity, flared in his chest. He should have been stronger. He should not have given into the weaknesses of the flesh.
But by God, it had been the most fulfilling moment of his whole damn life.
“We are at home tomorrow if you wish to call for luncheon,” Mrs. Penrose said.
“Luncheon? I’m afraid I have a prior engagement. Unless you have no objection to me calling later, for supper perhaps?”
What the hell was he thinking? In his desperation, the words had fallen from his mouth. He could hardly sit with them and eat nothing. He would have to think of an excuse … perhaps just force down one mouthful, suppress the nausea.
“Supper it is,” she said with a smile. “And I’m certain my niece will be desperate to thank you again.”
Desire sparked as he thought of all the ways Eve could demonstrate her appreciation. “I shall look forward to it.”
Chapter 17
Elliot Markham’s town residence stood on the west side of Portman Square. The twenty or so minutes it had taken Alexander to walk from Miss Bromwell’s home, had given him an opportunity to consider how he wished to approach his friendship with Markham and Devlin.
Friends were untrustworthy.
Neither Reeves nor Lattimer had bothered to search for him after he’d gone missing from the tavern, assuming he’d abandoned them for a pair of cushioned thighs. It was a reasonable assumption, he supposed, but still he had to blame someone.
The difference now was that Markham and Devlin were the only ones to share his secret. They had stated categorically that they would never betray a brother, and Alexander could not help but feel a kinship towards them. Despite Markham’s arrogance, he’d been more than helpful with Mr. Sutherby and Alexander always paid his dues.
“You took your damn time,” Elliot said standing from his seat in front of the fire as Alexander was shown into the study. “How long does it take to escort a lady home?”
“I took a detour.”
Elliot’s curious gaze scanned his attire. “What through a muddy field and a forest full of brambles? Or perhaps a group of wild urchins ripped your shirt in a bid to warm their hands on your bare chest.” He chuckled to himself. “Do you want a drink?”
“What are you offering?”
“I was thinking of brandy, but you can have blood if you need it.”
“What sort of blood?”
Elliot raised a brow. “Animal, of course. I would always advise against human blood. It’s too hard to come by, and you’ll only crave it all the more.” He moved to the array of decanters lined up on a silver tray.
Alexander strained to look over Elliot’s shoulder. “Surely you don’t store it in a decanter?”
“It’s fine for a few hours,” Elliot said as Alexander caught the familiar scent, heard the trickle of what he assumed was brandy. “My footman knows what I like, and I find it a much more gentlemanly ritual.”
“Do you not worry he’ll talk, expose your secret?”
“Not at all. I’m afraid he has the memory of a trout and forgets things easily.”
Alexander nodded.
“Here,” Elliot said handing him both glasses. “Try the brandy. It may lighten your mood.”
The golden brown liquid shimmered in the glass. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d drunk anything other than blood.
“You’re looking at it as though I’ve distilled it myself in a dank cellar. Try it.”
“I haven’t eaten or drunk anything in two years. The first time I tried to eat, I spewed all over my boots. The stomach cramps were enough to prevent me from attempting it again.”
Elliot gestured to the chairs. Alexander drained the glass of animal blood and placed it on the side table before sitting down. He cradled the brandy glass, warming it in his palms as he contemplated lifting it to his lips.
“If you asked Miss Bromwell to drink blood she’d retch,” Elliot said throwing himself into the chair opposite. “If she sipped it over a period of time, she’d grow accustomed to the taste. I’m not saying you won’t need blood. You’ll need it every day. I’m saying it makes it easier if you can appear to enjoy the same pleasures as other gentlemen.”
“I have no need to concern myself with appearances. I have no intention of remaining in London.”
“What of Miss Bromwell? You have obviously crossed the bounds of propriety. Her scent radiates from you. I find the smell of a woman’s sated desire far more potent than blood.”
The words roused images of Eve writhing in his lap and in a bid to rein in his rampant thoughts he took a sip of brandy — just enough to wet his lips. It stung the sensitive skin, and he found the sweet aftertaste too overpowering.
“I don’t know what to do about Miss Bromwell,” he said, surprised that he’d expressed his feelings to a relative stranger. “I almost confided in her tonight. I almost told her what I am.”
“I don’t think that’s wise, not yet at any rate. Life has a way of revealing the answer to our complex dilemmas when we least expect it. I suggest we concentrate on Mr. Sutherby for the time being.”
“We?”
Elliot raised his glass in a toast. “We are brothers, Alexander, whether you choose to accept it or not. Your problem is my problem. My secret is safe only as long as yours is and you would be wise to consider the welfare of both Leo and myself when you make any decisions.”
He could not argue with Elliot’s logic. “You said we should concentrate on Sutherby. You think he will become a nuisance?”
“I know so. What the gentleman says is not what he is thinking. I believe he has convinced himself he is in love with Miss Bromwell. I sense a desperation in him, a conflict. And his sister, well, that is another problem entirely.”
Alexander jerked his head back in surprise. “I admit to finding Miss Sutherby somewhat pretentious, but I sensed nothing definable.”
“Then I am being overcautious. Just pander to my whims.” Elliot sat forward. “Drink up, we need to go.”
“Where?”
“To Sutherby’s residence. To see what we can discover. Sutherby has undesirable motives, and I’m not convinced he will simply walk away.”
Alexander stood and placed his brandy on the mantle. “Why should it concern you? Miss Bromwell is my responsibility.”
“I’m surprised you need to ask. You’re in love with her. If anything should happen to Miss Bromwell, you’ll rip the throat out of everyone you meet. That concerns me.”
What was the point of protesting? What was the point of denying the truth? He knew he was in love with Evelyn Bromwell. Why else would he have come all the way to Town to parade about from ballroom to ballroom?
“Very well. I agree to accompany you to Sutherby’s residence. Do you have a plan? Or are we to knock on the door and force
them to confess?”
Elliot stood and put a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way in.”
They walked the mile to Half Moon Street, the fifteen-minute journey dominated by hilarious tales of Elliot’s most recent conquests.
“When she began honking like a goose, I thought I would have to anchor her down for fear she might flap her arms and fly off the bed.”
Alexander thought back to his own licentious past. The encounters were meaningless and did nothing to fill the empty void in his chest. Elliot needed to discover the difference between bedding any available woman and bedding a woman he loved.
“I suppose it’s preferable to her howling like a dog,” Alexander said with a chuckle.
“Not at all. Dogs are far more adventurous with their tongues.”
As they passed the turning for Clarges Street, Elliot gripped Alexander’s arm, forcing him to stop. “We’ll have to go in through the servants’ entrance at the front of the house. Sutherby’s garden backs directly onto the Clarges Street gardens, and there’s no other access.”
“And what do we do once we’re inside the house?”
“We’ll figure that out once we know which room they are in.”
Elliot opened the wrought-iron gate, and they descended the stone steps to the basement.
“There’s no one in the kitchen,” Elliot said peeking through the window. “It’s dark. There are no candles burning. They must all be in bed.”
Alexander tried the door to find it locked. “We can’t break down the door. It will wake everyone up.” He glanced at the window, at the row of tiny square glass panes. “If we could get our hand through one of those panes we could raise the sash.”
Elliot examined the window. “Take off your coat. I’ll use it as padding to muffle the sound.”
“Use your own coat.”
Elliot’s gaze drifted over him. “Your coat is already crumpled from you earlier liaison. It seems only fair.”
With a tut and numerous sighs, Alexander removed his coat and watched as Elliot folded it, pressed it against the glass and used his elbow to shatter the pane.
