Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 2)

by Adele Clee

  "Then you will leave me no choice," came the frustrated reply. "I shall have to find a way to persuade you."

  It was now or never, Grace thought.

  The man held his elbow awkwardly against his ribs. Gathering every ounce of courage she had, she darted towards his weakest side.

  Initially, the shock caused Barrington to stumble. But he was a large man with long strides and like that first fateful night, he caught her with ease.

  "God damn you. Why will you not yield to me?" Barrington dragged her back to face him, his pincer-like grip digging into her upper arm. "Would you rather be used by the likes of Markham and his ilk? I'm offering you a home and money. You never need worry again."

  "You have lost your mind if you believe I would choose to spend another moment in your company. You disgust me."

  "Do not forget your place, girl." A drop of saliva hit her cheek. "You'll speak to me with more respect."

  "Get your rotten hands off me." She tried to keep calm but images of Henry flooded her vision. Lord Barrington appeared similar in many ways: his height, his breadth, the stench of stale tobacco lingering on his clothes. His breath smelt sickly sweet from drinking copious amounts of brandy.

  Part of her wanted to sag to the floor in surrender — just as she had always done. Part of her wanted to punch and kick him for every horrid, unbearable moment she had been forced to endure.

  When Barrington lowered his head and attempted to claim her mouth, she kicked him in the shin. The flimsy slipper barely made contact and he cried out in anger as opposed to pain.

  "Why you little whore. I should whip you where you stand."

  A deep growl permeated the air, the sound threatening, possessive.

  As her gaze flew to Barrington's horrified face, she knew Elliot was standing behind her and she closed her eyes in silent prayer.

  "Let her go, Barrington." Elliot's tone sounded calm, measured. Yet she could feel his rage pulse through her. "Step away. Else there'll be hell to pay."

  Barrington let go of her arm and made the mistake of stepping back. Elliot flew past her in an instant and from the look of sheer terror on Barrington's face, Grace knew Elliot's eyes were coal black, that the sharp points of his teeth overhung his bottom lip.

  "Leave me alone … stay away I say," Barrington spluttered as he stumbled over his own feet, grabbing onto the empty chairs to steady his balance. "What sort of m-monster are you?"

  "One capable of ripping your throat from your measly body." Elliot kicked at the wooden chair legs sending them scattering as he drove his quarry further back. "One who'll make you pay for your lecherous ways."

  Barrington held his hands up to shield his face as he came to an abrupt halt in front of the pianoforte. "What … what are you going to do to me?"

  Grace could not see the expression on Elliot's face, but she heard him snarl. The sound was vicious, unforgiving.

  "Elliot. Wait." Grace almost choked in her eagerness to get the words out. "You've frightened him that's enough."

  Elliot grabbed the lapels of Barrington's coat. "I don't trust him. What if I'm not here to protect you next time?"

  A commotion erupted behind them as Leo, Alexander and Evelyn burst in through the door.

  "Hell and damnation," Alexander growled as Elliot glanced over his shoulder. "We cannot let anyone in here. We cannot let anyone see him like this."

  Just a glimpse of Elliot's countenance confirmed what she suspected; the beast inside was primed and ready for attack.

  Leo put his hand on Alexander's arm. "Take Evelyn outside. Block the door and don't let anyone in. Be persuasive if you have to."

  "Get him the hell off me." Barrington's voice conveyed his fear.

  "I don't give a damn what he does to you, Barrington," Leo said marching towards them as Alexander and Evelyn slipped outside. "But I do give a damn what happens to him."

  Grace's heart thumped so hard she could feel it in her throat. In truth, she wanted Elliot to hurt Lord Barrington. To teach him a lesson. She wanted to punish the lord for hounding her sister, for being a self-absorbed prig, for reminding her of Henry.

  But another feeling overpowered all others.

  Hurting Barrington would only bring Elliot more pain, more regrets, more memories to bury behind a false facade.

  Grace rushed forward, touching Leo on the arm. "Let me try. Just give me one chance. Please."

  Leo's gaze searched her face and he sighed. "One chance. But hurry."

  She came to stand beside Elliot.

  "Can't you bring your dog to heel?" Barrington scoffed finding an ounce of courage. But Elliot flexed his jaw causing the man to whimper.

  "Be quiet." Grace turned to Elliot. "Let him go, Elliot. You're the one who's always so calm, so in control. I need you to be calm now. I need you to listen to me."

  "He needs to pay for what he's done." When Elliot's gaze met hers, she sucked in a breath. Yet while his countenance conveyed the horror of his affliction, she saw a hint of sorrow in his black eyes. "I need to know he can never hurt you again."

  A well of emotion erupted inside.

  Barrington writhed as he tried to shake himself free. Despite being smaller and leaner in frame, Elliot seemed to have the strength of ten men and he tightened his grip on his prey.

  Grace cupped Elliot's cheek and he turned to look at her. "If you hurt him, you will only be hurting yourself. I won't let that happen." She swallowed deeply, stood on the tips of her toes and placed a soft, chaste kiss on his terrifying teeth. "I love you."

  Her throat felt tight as tears welled and threatened to fall. As he stared into her eyes, flickers of green invaded the darkness. The red veins dissipating, retreating, surrendering to the light.

  Relief coursed through her.

  It didn't matter that she had bared her soul to him. Vulnerability was a feeling she had dealt with many times before.

  "I love you," she repeated, determined that no matter what happened between them in the future he would never forget it. He would always know someone loved him for who he was, regardless of his affliction.

  Leo stepped forward and covered Elliot's hands. "Let me deal with Barrington. He'll remember none of this. I'll convince him to change his ways so you never need worry."

  Elliot let go of Barrington's coat and the man sagged against the pianoforte.

  "You will stay where you are." Leo's command carried a certain power, a gravity that could not be denied or disobeyed. "There is much to discuss, Lord Barrington."

  Grace took Elliot's hand and led him to the opposite end of the room. While he remained quiet, a little subdued, the look of longing in his eyes was all she needed to bring her comfort.

  "I have the information we need," Leo called back over his shoulder. "If you feel able, we could make a call tonight."

  Grace turned to Elliot. "If you want to go home, I can go with Leo. I'll come and—"

  "I'm going with you," he said, his tone somewhat solemn. "I'll not leave you. Not until I know you've got the answers you need. Not until I know you're happy and back home safely in Cobham."

  Back home in Cobham?

  She tried to listen to his thoughts. She tried to feel the emotion she could hear infused within his words. Confusion was the only thing she felt. Did he really want to send her back to Cobham? Was there no part of him that wanted her to stay?

  Once she had discovered the mystery surrounding Caroline's disappearance, her work would be far from over. Somehow, she had the impression that unravelling the mystery of Elliot Markham's complex emotions would be a far greater task.

  Chapter 17

  With his carriage still stationary, Elliot lounged back in the seat, his intense gaze focused on the lady sitting opposite him. Grace looked up from her lap, her weak smiling revealing her apprehension.

  He had been ready to end Barrington's life.

  In the same way Alexander had been ready to end Mr. Sutherby's at Mytton Grange.

  But what did it mean?

>   "You're sure you want to go tonight?" Evelyn asked, breaking the heavy silence. She sat next to Grace, leaving a space at the end for Leo — when he finally arrived. "I'm assuming Mr. Henshaw's house is somewhere in London."

  "I suppose we will know more when Leo joins us." Alexander shuffled in the seat next to him, his impatience evident in his tone. "How long does it take to rid a man of his memory?"

  "No doubt some woman has delayed his departure." Elliot was in need of a distraction. Prolonging the conversation forced him to abandon all memories of Grace's amorous declarations. "We'll know the answer if the air suddenly becomes choked with the smell of cheap perfume."

  "It will be a wasted journey. It's unlikely we'll find anything of interest there?" Alexander threw his hands up when Evelyn flashed him an irate glare. "What? I am just being honest."

  "Lord Hale is right," Grace said with a sigh. "I'm sure there'll be no one home, and it will all have been a complete waste of time."

  Elliot was determined to find some useful piece of information this evening. His emotions felt like the over-tightened strings of a viola. One more, small incident and he would most likely snap. "Whether there's anyone home or not, I shall insist on searching inside the property."

  Alexander snorted. "Well, if you smash the window don't think you're using my coat to muffle the sound. Not after the last time. I itch every time I wear it yet still can't find the source of my irritation."

  "I have a discovered a new technique." Elliot couldn't help but grin as he imagined the scenario. "This time, I'll just need to borrow your hat."

  Before Alexander could protest, the door flew open, and Leo climbed in. He settled down next to Evelyn and, despite appearing a little breathless, there were no telltale signs to suggest the reason for his delay.

  "I swear, I have never met a man as stubborn as Lord Barrington." Leo exhaled loudly. "He is so obsessed with securing a mistress it took an age to persuade him otherwise. I was beginning to think I had lost my touch."

  Elliot sat forward. "You are certain there will be no more trouble from him?"

  "Yes. I've convinced him he needs a wife and sent him off in the direction of the wallflowers." Leo's playful expression turned to one of concern as he focused his attention on Elliot. "Are you fully recovered from your ordeal? I must say it is the first time I have ever seen you lose control like that. Normally, I'm the one raging from the rooftops."

  Was he fully recovered?

  Never in his life had he felt so close to murdering another. Pure, hot molten rage had coursed through his veins until all he could do was unleash the devil's own fury. It hadn't subsided completely. He still wanted to wring Barrington's neck. But he had recovered sufficiently to proceed with the night's planned event.

  "I did not lose control," Elliot corrected. He had always been the one to offer advice, always the voice of reason. Though in truth, he scarce knew what to think anymore. When Grace had placed a tender kiss on his hideous features, all logical thought abandoned him. "Barrington deserved to be taught a lesson, and I was happy to oblige."

  Leo cast him a smug grin. "If you say so. Although I'm relieved Mrs. Denton knew how to calm your volatile spirit."

  I love you.

  Grace's words invaded his thoughts — obliterating his barricade to demand his surrender.

  Had she made the declaration just to calm him?

  Was it simply her intention to cause a distraction?

  "You said you knew where Mr. Henshaw resided," Elliot said in a bid to steer Leo away from revealing what he had heard. "Jump out and relay the instructions to Gibbs."

  Leo gave a polite nod. "I've already told him. He's just waiting for your signal to depart."

  Elliot thumped the carriage roof and braced himself as it lurched forward.

  "Well?" Alexander said as the conveyance settled into a steadier pace.

  "Well, what?" Leo shrugged.

  The force from Alexander's exasperated sigh could have blown out fifty candles. "Where does this Mr. Henshaw live?"

  "Oh. He lives on Hanover Street. Lord Sudley did not take much persuading to reveal the information. Though I suspect he's still wandering the ballroom feeling somewhat dazed."

  Alexander folded his arms across his chest. "And what will we do when we get there?"

  All heads turned to face Elliot.

  "First, we must observe the property," Elliot replied. "Enter by whatever means necessary. Search until we find something to lead us to Caroline Rosemond's whereabouts."

  Grace cleared her throat. "Then I pray we are successful, my lord." She turned her attention to the other occupants. "You have all done more than I could ever have hoped. Indeed, after tonight, I shall ask no more of you. Whether our search proves successful or not, I must consider returning home to Cobham without her, without ever knowing what has happened."

  The gravity of her words hit him like a vicious blow to the stomach. The force robbed him of his breath, and he resisted the need to gasp.

  In Cobham, she would be safe. She would be far away from the malicious tongues determined to cause her pain. She would not be such an easy target for every scoundrel looking to tup a courtesan.

  An image of her wandering the idyllic countryside flooded his vision. He saw her clutching the arm of some other gentleman as they navigated the muddy lane, laughing as they dodged the rain when caught in an unexpected shower. He saw her face alight with pleasure as the fictitious beau smothered her in kisses. He saw the look of adoration in her eyes when she held her child in her arms for the first time.

  The pain grew more intense, like a blunt blade twisting in his gut.

  "Then let us hope the night proves fruitful," Evelyn said, and he had to grit his teeth for fear of throwing them all out onto the pavement, riding off with Grace as his prisoner and never letting her go.

  Leo wiped the window with his glove. "We're here. I instructed Gibbs to pull up on the opposite side of the street. It's that one." He pointed to a townhouse in the middle of the terrace.

  They all leaned forward, almost bumping heads in their eagerness to observe the building.

  "The house looks cold and empty," Alexander said. "I see no light, no sign anyone's home."

  "What of Henshaw's staff?" Elliot asked.

  Leo shrugged. "I assume they've either been deployed elsewhere, or they're still tending to the property in Henshaw's absence."

  "Well, there is only one way to find out." Elliot tugged at the lapels of his coat and the ends of his sleeves. "I'll simply knock the door and persuade whoever answers to let me in."

  "Perhaps I should come with you," Grace said. "It is my fault we're all here."

  "It's not your fault, Grace." Elliot gave her a reassuring smile as he edged forward. "And it damn well better not be Caroline's fault, either."

  "Wait!" Alexander put his arm out to stop him from moving. "Someone is leaving."

  Grace shuffled forward and gasped. "Is that … is that Lady Sudley? I thought she was supposed to be ill."

  "It is Lady Sudley," Elliot confirmed as he watched the lady scurry down the street, glancing nervously over her shoulder as she headed towards Hanover Square. "But why is she out on her own, walking the streets at this time of night?"

  Leo turned to face him. "As she only lives in the square, I assume she did not want to trouble her coachman."

  It was Evelyn's turn to gasp. "I've just realised something. In Caroline's diary, perhaps it wasn't Markham. The letters 'm' and 'n' look so similar and are often mistaken."

  Logic told him Evelyn's theory was correct. "You mean she met with Mark in Hanover Street."

  "Precisely."

  Grace cleared her throat. "If Caroline was meeting him here, then she could have left to go abroad with Mr. Henshaw. She could be touring the Continent while I've been darting about like a March hare."

  If that were true, Caroline Rosemond was as cold and as heartless as he imagined. God, he hoped there'd been a mistake and some other explanation
could be found.

  "Right," he said with an element of determination. "I'm going inside. Wait here until I give a signal to follow."

  "I'm coming with you." Grace grabbed his arm and their gazes locked.

  How could he refuse her anything when she looked at him with such sorrow in her eyes? All he could think of was seeing her happy and untroubled. "Very well. You may come," he said dismissing the strange sense of foreboding writhing through his body.

  Grace trotted along beside him, trying to keep up with his long strides. Did his eagerness stem from a desire to bring an end to her worries or a determination to send her back to Cobham?

  If only he would give her a small clue, a tiny indication of his true feelings.

  Mentally chastising herself for being far too absorbed with her own problems, Grace shook the thoughts from her mind, intent on focusing on the task at hand.

  Elliot rapped on Henshaw's front door, and Grace shuffled a little to the left to widen the gap between them to a more respectable distance. Due to the intimacy they'd shared, she felt more at ease when she could feel his touch. Even if it was only the sleeve of his coat brushing against her cape.

  How would she fare when they were separated by miles, not mere inches?

  Failing to rouse a response, Elliot knocked again and after a brief silence, she heard the faint sound of shuffling feet.

  "Sorry, my lady," came the woman's voice as the door creaked open. "I wasn't expecting you back so—"

  The woman's gaze shot up from the floor, and she jerked her head back as though reeling from an invisible punch.

  "Mrs. Jones?" Grace narrowed her gaze as her mind attempted to confirm what her eyes were seeing. The presence of Caroline's housekeeper caused a mixture of relief and curiosity to course through her. "What are you doing here?"

  "You know this woman?" Elliot asked in a sombre tone.

  "Mrs. Denton, I … I thought …" Mrs. Jones shuffled on the spot. Her chubby lips moved up and down rapidly, but no words escaped.

  Grace turned to Elliot. "Mrs. Jones is Caroline's cook. The one I've not seen for days."

  "I c-can explain," she stuttered.