“Oh, now you’ve decided you shouldn’t have been a bastard toward him?” Elizabeth couldn’t resist sending the barb, for Donovan had played a part in the whole Drury Lane production. When he shot her a look, she shrugged. “I intended to accompany him to his club, to give him into Lord Coventry’s care. The Runners wouldn’t find him so soon there.”
“And?”
“When I opened the door, before Griggs could have your carriage brought around, Lord Rockingham was there.” And reminded her of his ultimatum. “He took Rafe, said he’d escort him to the club. Rafe didn’t protest. His strength wasn’t there.”
“That was the last time you will see Rogue?” her brother asked quietly.
Those words held such finality that tears sprang into her eyes. She blinked them away the best she could. “Yes.” Her answer was pulled from a tight throat.
“Because you’re engaged to the marquess,” he finished for her and shifted his glance to her ring.
Elizabeth twisted the hated bauble, wishing she could take it off and fling it into the fireplace. Not that such an action would erase the irrevocable decision she’d made. She lifted her gaze to Donovan’s. What could she say that would make the situation easier? “Yes.” No doubt Oliver and her brother had cooked up the scheme between them to see her wed the marquess.
“You will have a good life.” His gaze was kind as he stared at her.
“It will certainly be a life, though I’m not certain how good it will be.” Especially after Oliver had more or less blackmailed her into the engagement. I should have run away with Rafe when he asked me. Surely together and away from England they could have managed to evade the marquess and his threats.
“Is this not what you wanted all along, Elizabeth? To land in a relationship with a man who would take care of you, give you everything you’ve ever wanted without fear?”
She took in a shuddering breath. “I wanted love as well.” A man who cared for a woman would never threaten her or anyone else. Oliver took that from her in some demented game of possessiveness, in order to win, to make himself feel superior.
To keep Rafe from her.
Donovan’s eyes widened. His expression resembled the proverbial cat who swallowed the canary though she couldn’t fathom why. “You love Rogue.”
“I’m not certain.” She didn’t have the courage to admit her feelings to herself, let alone her brother. Elizabeth waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s beyond my reach. You saw to that. So did I.” She fixed her gaze to the front of his desk. Her body felt numb, cold. “I did what I had to do to keep him safe. I don’t regret it.” Perhaps Donovan would care for Rafe where she couldn’t. They had to repair their friendship first.
“Oh, my girl.” Her brother stood. He made his way around his desk and when he reached her position, he gently tugged her from the chair. “You would make such an enormous sacrifice, will stand by it while your heart slowly dies?” He wrapped his arms around her and held her. “You are more stubborn than I anticipated. Quite a troubling trait.”
“A family shortcoming.” Elizabeth let a few tears slide down her cheeks, and in that moment, safe in her brother’s protection, she forgave him his trespass against her. “I still have you and Alice.”
“But to willfully wed a man you don’t love?”
“I have good reason.” She wouldn’t reveal it to Donovan, not when he and the marquess seemed fast friends. “Though I will hold this match over your head for years. At times, you do not know what’s best, brother.”
“I am beginning to believe that, for my meddling has only mucked things up.”
What the devil did that mean? After a few moments, she pulled out of his arms. “Right now, I need to talk about this with a woman.” She attempted a laugh but it came out as a broken sound. “I simply cannot pour out the contents of my heart to my brother.”
“Understandable.” Concern clouded his eyes. “I am worried about Rogue, though.”
“Why? You didn’t trouble yourself before now.”
A hint of a flush colored his neck about his cravat. “If he had sought refuge at Bête Noire, either he would have dispatched a courier or Coventry would have. Hell, one of the Cursed Lords would have arrived on my doorstep by now. That fact they haven’t is concerning.”
Tremors of foreboding twisted up her spine and left chills in their wake. She snapped her gaze to Donovan’s. “Oliver promised he would send word or visit with you once Rafe was settled at the club.”
Her brother shook his head. “I haven’t heard from him in any capacity.”
Even though her heartbeat accelerated, time slowed around her. She barely registered the chime of the long-case clock in the drawing room as it announced the eleven o’clock hour. The flames in the hearth flickered but she no longer felt the warmth. A rushing sound flooded her ears as she gaped at her brother, and then the muted, frozen world slammed back to normal and she exhaled. “We have to find Rafe. He’s in peril.”
And it was her fault. She’d handed him into Oliver’s care—the man who had never made secret his dislike of Rafe and what he was. The man who hated him for being a vampire and… different. In her quest to see Rafe safe, she’d ignored the warning signs. How will he ever forgive me when I cannot forgive myself for this?
“Oh, Donovan.” Another wash of tears fell to her cheeks as horror took hold. She gasped with the enormity of the marquess’ plan, of her own stupidity. “I don’t believe Oliver ever intended to take Rafe to his club.” Her hands shook so badly that she clasped them together, crushing her handkerchief between her palms.
“Stay here.” Already he’d bounded to the door.
“Where are you going?” She trotted after him. How could she stay when worry would destroy her?
“To Rogue’s townhouse. If I don’t find him there, I’m going to the club. Someone has seen him. I’m confident he’ll be at one of those two places.” Conviction rang in his voice.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Elizabeth, no.”
Something inside her snapped. She stepped in front of Donovan and halted his forward momentum with a hand on his chest. “Don’t think to bully me. This is my life. This is my mess. I’m going with you to clean it up if I can. I must take that responsibility.”
And if she couldn’t, she would pray Rafe forgave her. Suffering a marriage to the marquess was fitting punishment for what she’d done.
A reluctant grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Spoken like a true Sinclair.” He nodded. “Let us make haste then.”
Not twenty minutes later, they both stood in the downstairs parlor at Rafe’s home.
Elizabeth looked about her with an interested gaze, for never once in the course of their relationship had she visited Rafe’s townhouse. Done in tasteful, soothing shades of blue, the parlor could have been found in any Mayfair residence. Nothing about the décor or bric-a-brac spoke to the man who owned the residence. Would she find anything of Rafe here?
Moments later, Donovan returned with the butler from a quick tour of Rafe’s bedchamber and his private rooms upstairs.
“Well?” Elizabeth asked as soon as he stepped inside the parlor. “Was he there?”
“No.” Donovan shook his head, genuine worry in his eyes. “His bed hasn’t been slept in.”
The butler—a man of indeterminate age—cleared his throat. “I have questioned most of the servants. No one has seen Lord Devon since he left for your ball, Your Grace.” He bounced his gaze between Donovan and Elizabeth. “We assumed he had gone to his club or perhaps found a lady…”
Heat slapped at her cheeks. Perhaps if things had gone differently, she might have snuck Rafe into her own rooms. “He did go to his club. Got himself into his cups and woke up in Hyde Park.”
From the parlor door, a gasp echoed. A man dressed in black came into the room, his expression haunted, his eyes holding anguish. “I am Lord Devon’s valet, my lady.” He laid a hand on his chest. “The name’s Carmichael. I�
��ve just returned from Bête Noire thinking Lord Devon had given himself over to despair and refused to feed, as sometimes happens, but he is not there.”
“Oh, no.” Elizabeth’s knees buckled, and Donovan was there with an arm about her waist to keep her upright. “Do you suppose he left for somewhere else?” Though she knew. Oliver had never brought him to the club at all. She fought the urge to retch from her own part in this farce.
The valet shook his head. “I asked. No one has seen Lord Devon at the club since directly following the duke’s ball, and certainly not this morning.”
Elizabeth curled her fingers into Donovan’s lapel. “We must find him.”
“We will.” He patted her back and then addressed Carmichael. “Canvass Mayfair. Search for any sign of him. I’ll go to the park and do the same. If you find something, anything, even the smallest of clues, come find me.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.” Carmichael darted from the parlor.
“There is nothing more we can do here,” Donovan murmured. He looked at the butler. “If Lord Devon returns home, send me a courier.”
“I will, Your Grace.”
Elizabeth let her brother lead her back to the carriage, where she stared out the window at Rafe’s home. “Where is he, Donovan?”
“I don’t know, but we will make every effort to find him.”
She swallowed but it did nothing to dislodge the ball of fear and self-loathing in her throat. “Do you think Oliver gave him directly to Bow Street?”
Donovan shrugged. “Anything is possible at this point. You must prepare for the worst, but I will help with the search.”
Elizabeth found Alice in her morning room, standing at the window, her face turned toward the sunshine streaming in through the glass. “May I talk with you for a minute, Your Grace?” Now more than ever she needed the advice of a woman.
“Absolutely.” The duchess glided toward a settee and gestured to it. “Come sit with me.”
“Are you feeling well?” She didn’t know how to broach the subject of Rafe, so she settled for Alice’s pregnancy.
“Today is a good day.” As they sat, Alice took possession of Elizabeth’s hand. “But you are not here to talk about me.”
“No.” It was uncanny how intuitive Alice was, for all of her blindness. “I am worried about Rafe.”
“I heard of his disappearance from Donovan before he left for Hyde Park.” Sympathy welled in Alice’s gray eyes. “If anyone can find him, it’s your brother.”
Elizabeth nodded. “He intends to shift and track him, doesn’t he?”
“I assume so. He’s quite good at it.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “I was surprised at Lord Rockingham’s announcement last night, for I had thought the earl had your heart.”
“I had no choice but to accept his suit.” She shook her head. “It seems that Oliver didn’t honor our bargain.” Of course, he’d never intended to. With narrowed eyes, she yanked his ring from her finger and dropped it onto a marble-inlaid table near her elbow. “In my opinion, that voids our engagement.” It felt so good to rid herself of that particular shackle.
“Ah, you did it to keep Rogue safe.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth snorted. “Little good it did.”
Alice gasped. “You sacrificed yourself for Lord Devon.”
“It was the only way.” Yet Rafe was missing and undoubtedly in peril, betrayed by the very devil. And me.
“You are in love with Rogue.” It wasn’t a question.
Heat infused Elizabeth’s cheeks. “I am still uncertain. Though, I can say I am falling for him.”
The duchess laughed and the sound tinkled around her like sparkles in the air. “It’s time to stop lying to yourself. If you weren’t already hopelessly in love with him, you wouldn’t find yourself so worried about him now. You wouldn’t have agreed to an engagement with Lord Rockingham in order to keep the earl safe. The answer is already there.”
“Still, I feel this hesitation, a confusion I cannot shake.” Elizabeth shook her head. “When he attacked me earlier this morning, though it stemmed from fear, I was terrified he would harm me, bite me, feed from me. If Donovan hadn’t come when he did—”
“You would have risen to the challenge. Don’t ever discount yourself or how you’d act in a crisis.” Alice smiled. She leaned toward Elizabeth as she peered into her face. “Fight for your man and for the future you truly want.”
“How? Rafe is missing.” Her heartbeat accelerated as her mind spun.
“You’ll know when the time comes.” The duchess patted her hand. “Also, removing a ring doesn’t mean your engagement is broken,” Alice said in a soft voice. “You must confront the marquess.”
“Yes. I have much stupidity to atone for.”
Alice snorted. “Love, at times, makes fools out of us.”
“Perhaps.” She nodded. “I’ll await word from Donovan. After that, I’ll take matters into my own hands.” I’m done letting fear dictate my direction. I’m finished with allowing men tell me how to live my life. Hopefully, she’d hadn’t realized that truth too late.
“That is a good start.”
I am in control. “I know exactly what I want.” She desired the fairytale, the love spoken of in those ancient stories—the sacrifice. Rafe had always been like a hero of old, but she’d been too blind to see his devotion, for fear had been in the way.
And she was the only one who could fight for it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
December 20, 1815
It had been four nights since her brother’s ball. Five nights since Rafe had last fed. Since he disappeared, there had been no sign of him. Neither was Lord Rockingham in London any longer. His Mayfair residence had been Donovan’s next place of inquiry, but the staff there informed him the marquess had removed to his country estate for the Christmastide season. Donovan, not to let something as pedestrian as mileage stop him, had shifted into the wolf that very night and took himself off to investigate the story. He’d returned two days ago with the report that said manor hadn’t been opened for years.
Everyone around her feared the earl dead, but if that were true, wouldn’t she feel it? A connection like she shared with Rafe, when severed, would have been noticeable.
Yet here she sat at the dinner table with Alice and Donovan as if nothing untoward had happened. The duchess herself had coerced Elizabeth into a festive gown of cranberry silk lined with lace, but there was nothing celebratory about the meal. Every nerve in her body felt strung too tight. She’d barely slept, and had spent the bulk of each day since she’d handed Rafe to Oliver walking through Mayfair, walking through Hyde Park, searching in vain for a trace that the earl had been there.
What else can I do?
“Elizabeth, you must eat.” Donovan set his knife and fork onto his plate and rested his gaze on her. Both grief and worry mixed in his brown eyes. “It won’t do any good for you to fade when we might receive a break in the case.”
“How can I when Rafe is still out there?” The rich, meaty scent of the roast beef on her plate turned her stomach, for anxiety was stronger than hunger. “How can I fill my belly when I know Rafe is starving?” A shiver shook her shoulders and she wrapped her ivory wool shawl more tightly around her.
“There is no way to definitively know that,” he countered, his voice gentle as if he feared she’d snap.
“We both suspect the worst, and have good reason to. Has he been tortured? Has he been beaten?”
“Each Cursed Lord has the ability to heal himself faster than a normal human,” Donovan replied, eyeing her with wariness. Did he think she’d burst into tears, inconsolable?
She ignored him. “Is he even now dying somewhere, murdered by Oliver’s hand?” She stifled a sob. “Have we all given up on a man who has been a friend, a supporter?” Her voice rose. “How can we live with ourselves if we let go of the fight?”
“We have not, but there is only so much I and the other Cursed Lords can do without involving the
local constabulary or Bow Street.” He arched an eyebrow. “I’m certain you don’t wish for that to happen, for he’d find his way to Newgate all the quicker.”
Her stomach muscles knotted tighter than ever. “You’re right, but I cannot stand this idleness we’ve fallen into. How can a man simply vanish? And if he’s nearing unconsciousness, that means Oliver must have to transport him somehow. Two men cannot remain hidden forever.”
“I agree. Even Lord Coventry, who has contacts everywhere in both the ton and his solicitor network cannot find them.”
“What is Oliver waiting on? For Rafe to die of natural causes?”
“There is every possibility that he has given Rogue enough blood—perhaps animal or perhaps he’s offered up a servant—to keep the earl alive as he toys with him,” Donovan said and his smile was grim. “If a man’s mind is unhinged, there is no telling what he’ll do or why. But you must believe that Rogue is doing everything he can to defend himself.”
“How can you know that?” Gooseflesh crawled over her skin as she thought up three more scenarios Rafe might face, each one more grizzly than the last.
“It is what I would do if I knew that the man you are engaged to had suddenly turned into a monster behind the façade of a ton gentleman.” Donovan’s eyes were kind as he looked at her. “He will fight for you. It is what he has always done,” he added in a softer tone.
I hadn’t thought of that.
Alice turned her head to rest her gaze on Elizabeth. “You must remain patient and trust that Rogue’s fate is in greater hands.”
“Unfortunately, patience has never been my strong suit.” She laughed, but the sound was brittle and forced. “I am not like you, Alice.”
Donovan snorted. “You are much alike, sister dear, and I am quite pleased. Every man worth his salt needs a strong, bold woman behind him.”
Elizabeth huffed her annoyance. “Beside him, I rather think you meant, for a woman of depth wouldn’t allow herself to hide behind her man.” The banter had swept away the worst of the blue devils and allowed clear thinking once more. She took a deep breath and let it ease out. “Do you mind if I take a walk?”
Bitten By the Earl (Lords of the Night Book Two) Page 25
