It was the most Drake ever shared about his past with me. I listened with rapt attention; the cab driver lit a cigar. Drake tapped his shoulder. The driver turned in his seat and Drake held a few bills out to him.
“Could you give us some privacy?” he asked.
The driver shrugged and exited the car. We watched as he walked over to a nearby tree, his shoulders raised to block the cold air. He took another drag from his cigar. My attention resettled on Drake; I was eager and more than ready for him to return to his story.
“One night, Lucien went off on a bash, and I saw him out at a hotel in the center of town. He was surrounded by women, of course, and he could have had his pick of them but Lucien had peculiar,” he paused, “…and specific requests and indulgences.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that he desired a certain level of deviancy in his intimate relationships… deviancy that cost him a steep price. Rumors spread about the sort of encounters he paid for and most of the higher end escorts refused to entertain him. One in particular denied her services to him and he became… obsessed.”
“With the escort?”
“Indeed. And you, ma minette, have already met her.”
“Lola Reilly?”
“Oui.”
“What did he do?”
“Well, nothing at first. He was all talk and no one paid him any attention. But on this one particular night, he was exceptionally inebriated. At the hotel, he was boasting about some of his wildest adventures and his bragging turned to anger when her name came up. She’d rejected him and he refused to accept it.”
“Sounds like he was a little too big for his breeches,” I said with a frown.
Drake nodded. “I will not attempt to paint you a false picture of my behavior at that age; and I was no saint but Lucien made me nervous. I think my debauchery stemmed from a place of entitled elitism mixed with naive youth. But he came from a place of real evil. When he spoke about her that night, I heard in his voice that something changed. He fully intended to cause her actual harm. I didn’t know Lola yet, but I knew whoever she was, I knew she was in very real and imminent danger.” He took a deep breath and I continued to watch him, unable to keep myself from admiring his strong profile.
“Go on,” I encouraged him.
“When he left the hotel, Lucien was so drunk, he could barely stand. He muttered a string of curses and the name Lola over and over. So I followed him. I trailed him all the way to her house, but he was too intoxicated to notice. He wasn’t granted entry because she already removed his name from the privilege list and he began arguing with the man at the gate. I hung back, assuming he was too drunk to do any real damage.
“But Lucien began fighting as soon as he realized he had fists. I learned from a young age to avoid him whenever he was angry because nothing could stop him. The shouting turned violent, and by the time I could get there to do anything, the man was already unconscious. I tried to revive him but I heard a scream and the sound of something shattering from above me so I ran upstairs and followed the sounds of the struggle. When I got to the room, he had Lola pinned to the ground. Blood was all over the floor from where he’d broken a glass over her head. He had a hand around her throat and was about to… I can’t go on… it’s unspeakable.”
Drake breathed heavily, and his eyes glistened in the setting sun. I put a reassuring hand over his. My belly was in knots watching him relive what had obviously been a very traumatic night for him. “It’s okay, Drake,” I said with a soft voice. He turned to face me and smiled almost as if he were embarrassed that he was having such a difficult time explaining the story.
“I pulled him off her and hit him repeatedly. We fought… and I wasn’t quite so adept in my pugilistic skills then. I could see his eyes and he had every intention of killing me that night. It scared me. I always knew he was dangerous, but I never imagined him turning into something so inhuman.
“Thankfully, Lola regained consciousness and managed to hit him over the head with a full bottle of whisky and that knocked him out. Lola was badly hurt but alive. We left him there and I took Lola to the nearest hospital.
“When my uncle found out what happened, he was beyond irate. Not at Lucien, but at me! He was more concerned about strangers seeing me helping an escort at the hospital rather than dealing with his nephew accosting one. He hypocritically claimed it would shame the family to assist anyone of her low rank and occupation. Everyone just turned a cheek if they caught us paying for a lady of the night for her services, but my uncle would have become the town joke if any word got out that a Montague treated one with the respect and honor any woman deserves.
“Naturally, I was enraged. I remained in New York just long enough to make certain she was okay. We became quite close after that. I’d like to be noble and say our relationship remained platonic, but she was my first real love and she taught me how to love a woman.”
I swallowed hard and even took a big breath at the thought of them together—of him loving Lola and her teaching him how to love a woman. Of course there was a part of me that absolutely wanted to know what it would be like to make love to Drake. I’d thought about it more times than I could count but each time I’d pushed the thoughts away with angry discouragement.
“Because I loved Lola, I had it out with my brother, telling him I’d kill him if he ever approached her again. He remained in New York, and I returned home. I was disgusted by the wealthy family that raised me and their stark lack of character. Lucien knew I was serious in my threat and in all the times I returned to see Lola, she never saw or heard from him again, and none of the other escorts did either. I wasn’t even sure he was still in New York until after my uncle died and I learned he was living in the family house. Sparing a few formal letters regarding the passing of other relatives and estate information, I haven’t spoken to him or seen him since then. From what I hear, he did quite well. A real socialite, mind you, but I’ll never forgive him for what he did to Lola.
“And now, mon chaton,” he finished with a long sigh, “you know everything there is to know about moi.”
Realizing only then that my mouth had fallen open, I hastily made a valiant effort to recover. I didn’t know what to say, and no response seemed appropriate. If anything, I had more admiration for Drake than ever before. I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy to essentially disown your family. Or disassociate yourself from an identity that was inextricably linked to unlimited wealth during that time period.
“So if he did all those terrible things, why are we going to see him now?” I asked finally. “How would he know anything more than we do?”
“My brother’s business depends on knowing people. If this George Griscom is anyone of importance or wealth, Lucien will know where to find him.”
Drake looked at my hand still resting on top of his and his mouth twitched. I quickly pulled my hand back and placed it in my lap. Outside, the sun had almost finished setting and a waning orange glow filled the back of the open car.
“Shall we start the family reunion?” he asked.
EIGHTEEN
I followed Drake down the slick road coated in sheets of ice. We stopped at the door of a large five-story townhome. Rosebushes, thorny and barren from the harsh December chill, lined the front of the tall stoop. My apprehension about the unannounced meeting faded momentarily as I looked up at the stately building. Its creamy white exterior reflected the last of the glowing sunset. The home was an homage to Neoclassical architecture. I remembered reading about said architecture at the library and it made me smile as I observed the building in living color, and unworn by time. Large, tall windows denoted each level and delicate trim framed each of them. The front door looked ominous: painted black with a cathedral arch nearly ten feet high. Light came from behind a window on the second floor and I wondered what Drake’s brother was like.
I naturally hoped Drake’s mysterious brother could provide us with a few more pieces to the puzzle but I couldn’t shak
e my dread. Approaching the house, I was repelled to know that the person who lived there had done what he did. Never mind the added threat of another violent brotherly brawl! What if Lucien just refused to help us? Even more plausible, what if he had no idea of where to find George Griscom?
My optimism returned when I remembered Dorothy on her walk down Fifth Avenue. She seemed to know everyone she met, and seeing how everyone recognized the name Montague, the New York of the past felt almost quaint. Even so, Drake’s assurances and my own feeble attempts at pacification did little to soothe my nerves. Doubt plagued me.
As Drake rapped loudly on the large, black door, I had half a mind to tell him to give it up, and we’d just have to find another way. We could go back to the hospital and devise a way to talk to Dorothy, if she was even still alive at this point. At the thought of seeing the smarmy doctor again, however, I shivered and it had nothing to do with the dropping temperature.
Whatever we did, I felt certain that coming here was a huge mistake. Not just because I thought Lucien wouldn’t help us, but because if this meeting were anything like the last one Drake had with him, we were potentially jumping out of the frying pan and into the flames. In other words, we could be in danger. More than anything else, I didn’t want to see Drake get hurt.
I turned to Drake to express my doubts. But before I could open my mouth to say anything, a tall man in a pinstripe suit opened the door. I could instantly see the resemblance. Lucien was clearly older and taller than Drake but he sorely lacked his brother’s toned physique. The buttons on his coat strained to contain the width of his distended stomach. He had a thick, brown mustache that was waxed on the ends and heavy bags beneath his eyes. It astonished me when I saw how remarkably similar Lucien’s eyes were to the soft brown eyes of the man standing beside me. If Lucien were shocked at seeing his missing brother after eighteen years, he didn’t show it. His face remained expressionless. His eyes flicked to me and then back to his brother.
“I suppose I should invite you in.”
I thought it was an unusual opening line. But coming after a drunken brawl and a string of formal letters, Drake seemed nonplussed. We entered the large home and I was immediately taken aback by its opulence. We followed Lucien through an oversized entrance hall, going past a reception room and into a huge living room. A lit fireplace crackled and took up most of the far wall while the rest of the room was elegantly appointed with antiques and other custom pieces of stately furniture. A desk that was remarkably similar to my recently acquired replica Wooton occupied the corner.
Light from the flickering fire cast eerie shadows on all the walls. The room was painted a pale yellow and the intricate crown molding only enhanced its grandeur. The house was undeniably impressive. Its warmth and ambience were a welcome change from the frigid temperatures outside. My attention turned back to Lucien. He was a study in contrast: much icier than his striking domicile.
“When was the wedding?” he asked Drake. It took me a moment to realize he was referring to our wedding. Seeing my confused expression, Lucien smiled coyly at me. “You’ll find word travels fast in this town. And the Montague moniker makes news travel even faster.” He winked at me. Then he faced his brother.
“She’s a good looking woman,” he said as if I weren’t still standing in the room. “You did good, little brother.”
My eyes quickly landed on Drake. Drake’s face adopted a thoughtful expression as he regarded his brother. For a moment, I wondered if he’d heard.
“July,” said Drake without hesitation.
“Ah, then I suppose a congratulatory drink is in order.” My stomach knotted at the thought of alcohol; I was still recovering from the previous evening.
“No, actually, Lucien, we haven’t much time,” Drake said hurriedly. “I only came to ask for your help.”
“Well, in that case, we’ll definitely need a drink.” he said more seriously and without a touch of humor. I was well beyond confused by the exchange that I saw unfolding in front of me. Lucien, the beast of a man, wandered off and left Drake and me alone in the large, drafty room.
“Is this normal? Is he always like this?” I whispered to him.
“I do not know, ma minette,” he replied softly, draping his arm around me for comfort as I relaxed my body and pressed it into his. I nearly startled myself at the carelessness of my intimate response and shifted away from him awkwardly. He noticed and frowned at me so I gave him a weak, apologetic smile.
Lucien reentered the room with a glass decanter full of amber liquid and three tumblers. He looked at us and said nothing. Lucien merely raised an eyebrow before he sat down on a high-backed, red sofa and stared up at us expectantly. He gestured to the two chairs on the other side of the small, dark coffee table. We took our seats and the room descended into silence. I watched Lucien fill the three glasses before he relaxed into his chair, regarding us both for a long, protracted moment.
“So, what brings you to New York?” he asked. Drake and I left our glasses untouched on the table. Lucien took a hearty sip from his.
“We’re looking for someone,” Drake said simply.
“Ah, I see. Well, don’t let me waste any of your precious time catching up,” he said disdainfully. I stiffened slightly in my seat. Drake only chuckled in response and bent forward to retrieve his amber-colored glass from the table.
“Will you help us?” I asked, growing impatient and uncomfortable.
For the first time, Lucien seemed to see me. His familiar brown eyes rested on mine. My breath caught when I stared into the eyes I knew so well, so much like Drake’s, but these belonged to a stranger, a man I just met. Although the years were not generous to Lucien, and his face lacked the youthfulness of his brother, it was clear that handsome men ran in the family. Lucien’s beauty, however, was somewhat harder to see. The heavy, purple bags beneath his eyes were the only source of color on his pallid face. The man was clearly haunted by something, maybe what he’d done to Lola or maybe it was because he was still in love with her? Whatever demons plagued him, they had certainly taken their toll.
“You know I wouldn’t come here unless it was important,” said Drake. Lucien’s eyes didn’t leave mine.
“More important than abandoning your unconscious brother in a whore’s bedroom?”
“Oh,” I said without realizing it as I reached for my glass and downed the liquid in four burning gulps. Drake faced me with surprise before he turned to his brother and shook his head.
“That was years ago, Lucien.”
I was worried about what I was witnessing between the two of them. It seemed like I should have been more emphatic about my desire to leave when we still had a chance. Although a certain level of friction was naturally expected, given the situation, the calmness of Lucien’s delivery put me on edge.
Drake continued to shake his head while his brother downed his drink and poured another. He relaxed again in his seat and regarded us coolly.
“I was wondering if you would come here to pay me a visit,” Lucien started. “I heard you were seen at a bar last night talking to Miss Walsh and Mrs. Flynn.” My eyebrows rose in response to that. He continued, “Could that mean that you’ve finally outgrown your puerile obsession with Ms. Reilly? What did your new bride think of your former entertainers?”
Again, it took me a moment to realize he was referring to me. I frowned at his question. Drake remained quiet.
“I didn’t come here to discuss my wife and me,” Drake said finally.
“What did you come here to discuss then?”
“I came here because I thought you might be able to help me.” Drake took a deep breath. “And I hoped you would.”
Lucien glared at Drake for a long moment. I held my breath. Finally, his expression relaxed and he seemed curious.
“I can’t guarantee it,” he said, “but very little happens in this city without me knowing about it,” he replied boastfully. Considering his timely knowledge of our location last night, he must
have been speaking the truth.
“I’m trying to find a man,” Drake said. “His name is Griscom. George Griscom.”
Lucien stared blankly before finally repeating the name “Griscom… Griscom…” over and over he said it again, like he was tasting the word with his tongue. His low voice trailed off. He stared at the ground and his eyes roamed from side-to-side in thought. “I know that name,” he said, evidently still trying to place it.
My shoulders, which were already nearly next to my ears with all the palpable tension in the room, rose even higher and I leaned forward in my chair.
“Not a George, though. No. It was… I know! Andrew! He was that young fellow who jumped to his death off a cruise deck. The news ate it up. Sad story, of course, but it only goes to prove that love can make us do the oddest things.” He winked at me and I shifted in my seat.
“I don’t think that’s the one. You’ve never heard of a Griscom around here then?” I asked, visibly deflated. “There’s a chance he could go by the name, Junior?”
Lucien was deep in thought again. He absentmindedly twirled the ends of his moustache. Finally, his eyes lit up.
“I’ve seen the family Griscom at events near the marina. The family certainly likes their yachts. I vaguely remember the old man mighta been called George, but I don’t know anything about a Junior.”
“Old man?” I asked, all hope draining rapidly.
“The man you’re looking for is old.”
“How old?” I asked. I had no right to judge Dorothy’s taste in men. I suppose I just assumed Alice’s father would be roughly the same age as Dorothy, twenty-five.
Brown Eyed Ghoul: A Ghostly Paranormal Romance Series (The Peyton Clark Series Book 3) Page 23
