Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 1) (11 page)

“I know. But are you not the least bit curious? Do you not wonder what this madness is that exists between us?”

Curious was far too mild a word. “Madness? It is an act of lunacy to dream of something that can never be.” His gaze dropped to the soft, creamy flesh bulging out of the neckline of her gown and he pressed his tongue to his teeth for fear of them protracting.

She sucked in a breath. “Yet still you followed me here. Still, you came to Mytton Grange at night, spent hours sketching my likeness.”

“I was suffering from a bout of boredom.”

“No,” she said sharply. “I don’t believe you.”

He looked down into her eyes. The sense of longing that consumed him was hard to disguise.

The dance came to an end all too quickly, and as he escorted her from the floor, she turned to him. “Will you stroll with me in the garden?” Her words held a hint of desperation that mirrored his thoughts.

He blinked slowly and sighed. “I can’t.” Sensing a wave of rejection, he added, “You must decide how you feel about Mr. Sutherby. I would not want to be responsible for influencing your decision.”

“Are you so confident in your ability to please?” she teased.

He scanned the chestnut curls falling from her coiffure, her full lips and wide blue eyes rousing an image of her swimming naked in the river. Her earthy essence had bewitched him, even on that first night when her cape hung from her shoulders like a tatty rag, her hair a mass of straggly tendrils.

“I am confident in your ability to please, Miss Bromwell.”

Before she could respond, they heard a high-pitched cry, and when they pushed through the crowd, Mr. Sutherby rushed to her side.

“Please, Miss Bromwell, I need your help,” he said, taking her arm. “Charlotte has fainted, and I cannot rouse her.”

“Charlotte? What happened?”

With a look of panic, Miss Bromwell followed Mr. Sutherby to the listless figure sprawled out on the floor.

“Please, let Miss Bromwell look at her,” Mr. Sutherby said to the group of people congregating around.

As soon as Miss Bromwell knelt down beside the patient, the lady batted her lashes, her lids twitching as she tried to open her eyes. Alexander had never known anyone make such a quick recovery. Mr. Sutherby was obviously growing desperate and would resort to any tactic necessary to gain Miss Bromwell’s attention.

Miss Bromwell touched the lady’s head. “Can you hear me, Miss Sutherby?”

The patient groaned. “Evelyn. Is it you?”

Alexander had never seen such a pathetic display. It didn’t matter to him if he stood there all night. Sutherby would not win.

We know what you are.

The words drifted into Alexander’s mind, and he swung around so quickly the people behind him jumped back. He scanned the shocked faces, desperate to find the culprit. But his gaze was drawn to the doors leading out to the terrace.

Leo Devlin and Elliot Markham hovered near the doors. The gentlemen were similar in appearance. Elliot’s hair was as black as night, cut shorter than the current fashion, which accentuated his firm jaw and gave his face a more rugged appeal. He was taller than Leo Devlin, his shoulders more muscular. Devlin’s brown hair hung past his collar, his face holding a more boyish charm. Noticing his scrutiny, both men gave an arrogant smirk before sauntering out into the garden.

He should have left them to their game, but instinct told him to follow. His anger needed an outlet, and he could think of nothing better than wiping the pathetic grin from their faces.

Chapter 11

Alexander stalked his prey across the lawn, through the maze of box hedges to the orangery. The Gothic structure looked more like a miniature castle than a house for plants. Although its parapet walls and stone pinnacles were there purely to support the blanket of arched windows.

Once inside, he followed the gentlemen through the jungle of tropical greenery before stopping at the cherub fountain. Leo Devlin and Elliot Markham were seated on the stone bench, their legs stretched out in front of them, waiting for him to catch up.

“Ah, here he is. The Earl of Hale heard your little gibe, Leo, and by the stern look on his face seeks satisfaction,” Elliot said with a smirk.

Alexander turned his attention to Leo Devlin. “What the hell did you mean by it?” It felt good to release some of the hostility he’d spent an hour keeping at bay. He would have the answer to his question one way or another.

Devlin raised an arrogant brow. “I meant exactly what I said.” He thrust his head forward and whispered, “We know what you are.”

Fear clawed away at him, his mind bombarded with images of being bound and dragged out into the daylight to answer for his crimes. The excruciating pain would hold him in its vice-like grip to scorch his soul, to brand him a monster for all eternity.

Alexander opened his mouth to speak, but Elliot stood, his attention moving to a point amidst the exotic trees. “Shush. Don’t say another word,” Elliot whispered, tapping his finger on his lips to reinforce his point.

Pushing aside his anger, Alexander listened. The grunts and groans were audible, and he scanned the curtain of dark foliage. Devlin jabbed his finger at a tree, and Elliot sauntered over and disappeared behind it.

“Ah, Lady Conley. How nice to see you again. Although I had not bargained on seeing quite so much of you.”

Alexander heard a squeal, the rustling of material and a gentleman’s muffled protest.

“My dear,” Elliot continued, “your husband asked that I find you, for fear you’d make him a cuckold again. Now, what am I supposed to tell him?”

“Don’t tell him,” the lady begged. “Please. Don’t tell him anything.”

“Such a predicament,” Elliot sighed. “It is a little too late you see, as there are more witnesses beyond this tree.”

“That sounded rather poetic,” Devlin hollered. “No doubt, the sight of bare breasts has turned your brain to mush.”

“I’m afraid I must speak with the lady alone.” Elliot stepped around the tree and thrust the gentleman forward. The startled fellow was still busy tucking his cock back into his breeches as he scurried past them and out into the garden.

“Now, what am I to do with you, Lady Conley?”

They heard the lady give a long, drawn-out hum. “You … you could always take his place.”

“You mean fill in, so to speak?” Elliot snorted. “I don’t think so. It would be like bathing and slopping about in dirty water.”

With his anger temporarily forgotten, Alexander pursed his lips to suppress a snigger.

“Well … what about this? Do you think this will help you forget all about it?”

“I might be persuaded.”

They heard more rustling, playful giggling and he noticed Elliot’s bare hands grip the scrawny tree trunk.

“Yes, holy hell, you’ve the tightest mouth.”

Devlin glanced at Alexander, gave an amused grin and made a lewd gesture with his hand and mouth. He removed his pocket watch and flicked open the lid. “I wouldn’t bother leaving. By the time you reach the door, it will be time to come back. It will all be over in less than a minute.”

“I bloody well heard that,” Elliot panted. “Oh, God, don’t stop.”

Elliot’s roar of satisfaction announced the end of the lascivious act.

“Told you,” Devlin said, flashing the face of his watch at Alexander. “The hand hasn’t even moved.”

The room fell silent and Elliot stepped out from behind the tree, his face plastered with an arrogant grin as he pulled at the sleeves of his coat and brushed his hand down the front of his breeches.

“Satisfied?” Devlin asked.

“For the moment.”

The lady appeared from the foliage, her hair mussed and bedraggled, as though a family of birds had made it their home for the spring. Her lips were red and swollen; her eyes were still glazed with desire.

“You promise to say no more about it?” she said wiping the corners of her mouth with the tip of her finger.

Elliot nodded. “Indeed.”

“And your friends?”

“Consider them mute.”

“Perhaps we may stumble on each other again, Lord Markham.”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps not,” Devlin joked as the lady closed the door to the orangery and left them alone. “He never touches the same woman twice. It’s become a rule of his, and he’s quickly running out of options.”

“Ah, but I didn’t do the touching,” Elliot said. He focused his attention on Alexander. “Forgive the interruption. But a starving man never refuses the offer of bread.”

Devlin made a puffing sound. “Starving? You have the appetite of an entire pack of wolves. You could have bargained a little harder. You could have thought of your poor friend. I feel as though I’ve not eaten for weeks.”

“It’s been a day, Leo. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to leave Lord Hale out.”

Devlin threw his hands in the air. “You forget about Eve. A man doesn’t call out in such a mournful way only to fill another woman’s mouth an hour later.” He jumped up, cupped his hands over his heart and cried, “Eve. Eve. Where are you?”

“Shut the hell up,” Alexander roared, his fists clenched at his sides ready to pummel the smirk off his face. He’d been so busy listening to their comical banter he’d forgotten the reason he’d stalked after them. “Damn you, there’s no way you could have heard me.”

“He’s so angry,” Devlin said with a chuckle. “Who is this Eve anyway?”

“Her name’s Evelyn Bromwell,” Elliot said. “I asked around when I saw them dancing together.”

Alexander could not control the rush of pure rage. He flew at Elliot Markham and grabbed him by the throat. “Leave her the hell alone.”

Elliot wrapped his hand around Alexander’s and with equal strength pulled it away. “You have nothing to fear. I would never betray a brother by hurting someone he cared for.”

“A brother?” Alexander spat. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else. So you can stop bloody well following me around and prying into my affairs. I won’t tell you again.”

The need to find Miss Bromwell and check that all was well overpowered all other thoughts and Alexander turned and strode towards the door. Besides, he had heard enough from these two degenerates.

“Better run home before sunrise,” Devlin shouted. “Better not bite anyone on the way out.”

Alexander froze. An icy chill seeped into his veins. They knew his secret, and if he didn’t silence them, his nightmare would soon become a reality.

He turned on his heels and marched back towards them.

Elliot held his hands up as a sign of surrender. “Wait. Show him, Leo. Show him why he’s our brother.”

Devlin stepped forward, shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat and threw them onto the bench. Yanking his shirt out of his breeches, he pulled it up to reveal the mark on his chest.

Alexander sucked in a breath. The mark: a cross inside a circle of thorny twine was identical to the one seared into his chest. It didn’t make any sense. That night in Bavaria, he’d woken from the torturous dream to find his body branded with the unusual drawing. He’d not felt the iron burn his skin, nor did he know if the golden devil was responsible.

“I don’t understand,” Alexander said shaking his head. “We bear the same mark. But how did you come by it?”

“I have it too,” Elliot said. “Ever since the night I met a golden-haired goddess with razor-sharp teeth. We call it the mark of the brotherhood.”

“Well, the ladies seem to like it,” Devlin added as he dressed.

Alexander struggled to comprehend what they were telling him. “The golden-haired woman, she said there were more, but I didn’t think —”

“To find them in a ballroom in London,” Elliot interjected.

A million and one questions flooded his mind. “Do you have the same … the same afflictions?”

Devlin chuckled. “We live for the night. We have the same desperate thirst for blood. We heard you call out to your lover.”

Alexander gritted his teeth. “Miss Bromwell is not my lover.”

“But you want her to be,” Elliot said.

There was nothing he wanted more. But he could not risk hurting her. “How do you move about in society without … without hurting anyone?”

They both looked at him as though he’d grown an extra head.

“Why would we hurt anyone?” Devlin said. “Oh, you mean biting people and draining their blood. As a mortal man, I loved beef. That doesn’t mean I jumped on every cow I saw in a field. The occasional one, maybe.”

“Ignore him. It is a case of control,” Elliot said. “Anger doesn’t help. When you’re angry, you’re more prone to unpredictability. Frustration is another trigger. Which is why I readily accepted Lady Conley’s offer. You’d be surprised what can be achieved with a calm mind. We have even trained our bodies to eat small amounts of food. It’s not pleasant but …”

“Do people not question why you do not move about in the day?”

“Most dissolute peers don’t rise until three,” Devlin said. “We are not any different. We are not the only men who fall into bed at dawn.”