Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 2) (11 page)

"Yes, but it was more than that. I feel different when I'm with her, as though we are the only two people in the world who speak the same language."

"Mrs. Denton believes that a man must love with his heart not just his anatomy if he is to ever truly satisfy a woman." Elliot stared at Alexander as he almost spurted blood all over his evening clothes. "Do you think it's true?"

Recovering quickly, Alexander pondered the question. "If anyone were listening to this conversation, they would think we've lost our minds. But yes, I suppose it's true. Don't ask me to explain it. You must discover it for yourself." Alexander sighed and narrowed his gaze. "Elliot, in the short time I've known you, you have always struck me as a man in complete control, of your life, your wants and desires. If Grace Denton has caused some change in you, then you owe it to yourself to pursue the possibility that there could be more to it than a fanciful attraction." He snorted. "Now I sound like a matron offering advice to a debutante."

Elliot rubbed his chin as he contemplated his friend's words. "My idea of pursuing the possibility is to use more licentious means. I doubt there are many matrons willing to offer the same advice."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"What do you know of Mr. Denton?" Alexander enquired.

Elliot shrugged. "Not much. He's dead—"

"I know that."

"She was married to him for a few months, a loveless arrangement, I gather. I sense a deep passion within her. But it is anchored down by the weight of a heavy burden."

"Perhaps he was unkind to her. Cold, even."

"Perhaps." It appeared the disappearance of Caroline Rosemond was not the only mystery to solve. Somehow, he suspected the more he knew of Mr. Denton, the more he would understand Grace.

Was he bothered enough to pursue the matter?

Damn right he was.

He had made up his mind. Nothing would deter him from his course. He wanted Grace Denton and would do whatever was necessary to achieve his goal.

They returned to the parlour to find Evelyn and Grace huddled next to one another on the sofa. Evelyn had the diary in her lap and was using the tip of her finger as a guide as she scanned the page.

"Look, here's another one." Evelyn's eyes were alight with excitement. "This one says, two … George … and it looks like Jerm."

Grace glanced over Evelyn's shoulder. "So you think she was to meet with George at two o'clock and at a place that sounds like Jerm?"

"Could be Jermyn Street," Elliot said, deciding to sit in the chair opposite and join the conversation.

"Why would she write it in code?" Alexander asked standing in front of them with his hands clasped behind his back. "Why would she have to be so secretive if it's in her personal diary?"

Evelyn shook her head and tutted. "We are reading it. Perhaps she feared someone else might discover it? I'm sure she must have had gentlemen call at her home. She probably thought it was more discreet to record it this way."

"Oh, she didn't worry about being discreet when slandering my character," Elliot scoffed.

Grace raised a brow in censure. "That's just gossip. There is a difference between recording one's own opinion and keeping a record of secret liaisons."

"Here's another one. Only this one is a meeting a few days before her disappearance." Evelyn narrowed her gaze and focused on the script. "It says, twelve … Hodges … forty-two Pic."

Elliot could think of only two possible places. "Well, it's either Pickering Place—"

"There are only two reasons to go to Pickering Place," Alexander said dropping into a chair. "To visit a gaming hell or to pay off a gaming debt."

"Or fight a duel," Elliot added, "Although I've not heard of one fought there in years. The gentlemen tend to venture out of town."

Grace gasped. "You can't think Caroline was involved in either of those things."

Alexander raised a dubious brow. "Perhaps there was an argument over her affections. If we're going to investigate, we'll need to go tomorrow evening. But you should know I'm appallingly bad at cards."

"You're in such a rush to go to a gaming hell," Evelyn chuckled, "that you've missed a vital piece of information. What does the forty-two mean? If it is a door number then it begs the question, is there a forty-two Pickering Place?"

"There's a forty-two Piccadilly," Elliot said. "It's either the apothecary or the bookshop and stationers. It's a few doors away from one of the finest brandy merchants and is also opposite the church."

Alexander coughed into his fist. "I suspect it's a few years since you've squashed into a pew on a Sunday morning."

"More than a few I'd say. But I never shirk my responsibilities when it comes to brandy. I also used to frequent the apothecary. Now my footman has inherited the task. I like their sandalwood shaving soap."

Grace smiled, and his heart swelled. "Well, perhaps I can collect your order. I'm sure it won't hurt if I call by in the morning and browse their wares, see if the proprietor's name is Hodges."

"Oh, I could come with you," Evelyn said. "With your hair hidden in a bonnet, no one will pay you any heed."

While Alexander protested, Elliot watched Grace. She seemed more relaxed, happier even. He liked the way her pretty blue eyes sparkled when she spoke of more pleasant things. He wondered how they'd look if he lavished her with attention. He imagined his nimble fingers rousing a response, knew she would glow, exude radiance in the aftermath of her release.

The throbbing ache in his loins caused him to shift uncomfortably in the chair.

When he refocused his attention, he noticed Alexander was standing. "It is impossible for me to accompany you."

Evelyn patted Grace on the arm. "Alexander suffers from the same affliction as Elliot." When Alexander clenched his jaw and widened his eyes in alarm, she added, "We can trust Grace not to reveal your secret."

Grace appeared almost happy at the news. "On my life, I will not speak a word of it," she said, putting her hand to her chest. "In truth, it pleases me to know that Lord Markham is not suffering alone. I imagine it can be quite an isolating condition."

All heads turned to look at Elliot.

His chest felt warm, his cock pulsed with the need to reward Grace for her caring comment. "It can be lonely at times," he heard himself say. They were words he had never uttered before, not in company, not even to himself. But he recognised the truth in them, knew they formed the basis of all his hidden fears. The need to be intimate with her, to drive away the debilitating thoughts, pushed to the fore.

Alexander must have sensed his torment as he turned to Grace and changed the subject. "Earlier, in the carriage, you said the evening was not entirely wasted. What did you mean by it?" Alexander clasped his hands behind his back again as he waited for her reply.

Grace looked up at him. "A lady approached me in the retiring room."

"It was Lady Sudley," Elliot informed.

"She expressed concern over the incident with Lord Barrington and enquired as to Lord Markham's involvement." Grace glanced at him, as she had not mentioned the lady had asked about him. "She studied my reaction with interest, studied my features. It seemed odd."

"More than likely, she's only interested in gossip." Alexander waved his hand in the air dismissively. "It's to be expected. But I'm certain they'll be talking about someone else tomorrow."

Something niggled away at the back of Elliot's mind. "I'm just surprised a lady of her standing would converse with a courtesan."

Alexander shrugged. "Perhaps being in the retiring room offered an opportunity too good to miss. To be the bearer of such a juicy piece of scandal would place her in an elevated position amongst her peers."

Appearing oblivious to their conversation, Evelyn tore her gaze away from the diary. "So, the night Caroline disappeared, she met with someone called Mark at nine o'clock." She turned to Grace. "She did leave in the evening?"

Grace nodded. "And she walked, so it couldn't have been too far."

Elliot sat forward. "Does she always walk the streets alone at night? Did you not caution her regarding such folly?"

Grace gave a resigned sigh. "No one can tell Caroline what to do. She makes up her own mind and never yields even when she's wrong."

There it was again, Elliot thought, the slight hitch in her voice. He suspected she had borne the brunt of Caroline's selfishness on many occasions.

"The
ham
could stand for Ham Yard or Hampstead Street," Elliot said, clutching at anything that meant shifting the focus away from his name. "But both of those places are too far to walk to at night."

Evelyn closed the diary and handed it back to Grace. "I think we need to go back before we can move forward. We need to build a picture of where she went before she disappeared."

Alexander folded his arms across his chest. "You mean you want to go shopping in Piccadilly."

"Snooping not shopping," Evelyn said with a grin. "And in the evening, you may go to a gaming hell."

"I am not half as excited as you are," Alexander grimaced.

Evelyn turned to Grace and patted her arm. "We'll leave mid-morning."

Grace offered a grateful smile and turned to Elliot. "Could I trouble you for one more thing this evening?"

She could ask him for anything, and he would gladly give it. His wicked mind conjured all sorts of salacious scenarios. The hard lump in his throat felt like nothing compared to the hard lump in his breeches.

"Of course," he said bowing his head.

"You have your carriage here. Would you mind escorting me to Arlington Street?"

Elliot's heart skipped a beat as he narrowed his gaze. "Not with the intention of remaining there?"

"No." She shook her head. "I think it prudent to be certain Caroline has not returned before we go racing around town on a fool's errand."

It was a logical request.

"If we find her lounging on the chaise, I swear I will not be able to curb my tongue or my temper."

Grace snorted. "If we find her lounging on the chaise, I'll be the first to hit her over the head with a chamber pot."

In truth, he did not feel anger towards Caroline Rosemond. Not for leaving her sister alone without saying a word, not even for writing his name in her blasted diary.

How could he?

If anything, he owed her a debt of gratitude for the beautiful gift she had left behind. For the only woman who had ever managed to penetrate his arrogant facade. The only woman capable of warming his cold heart.

Chapter 10

From the moment they pulled up outside her sister's house in Arlington Street, Grace knew they would not find Caroline inside. It looked too dark, too desolate and lonely.

"Let me walk in first." Elliot stepped in front of her, protecting her like a shield, and she held onto his sleeve as they navigated the gloomy hallway. The cold air held a damp, earthy smell, supporting her theory that the house still lay empty.

"Thank you for agreeing to come with me," she whispered.

Having spent two days alone in the house, she should have had no problem nipping back in on her own. Of course, Elliot would not hear of it. How very different he was to Henry, she thought.

After checking all of the rooms leading from the hallway, Grace tapped Elliot's arm. "Perhaps we should check her bedchamber."

"What about the kitchen?"

"I doubt Caroline would even know where it is," she said with a chuckle.

"If we're here, we may as well do a thorough search."

"Very well."

They made their way to the kitchen. The black shadows became clearer as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. When she entered the room, she had no trouble spotting the wicker basket filled with provisions sitting on the table.

"They weren't here before." Her voice revealed her surprise, and she pointed to the basket desperate to examine its contents.

Rummaging through, she found bread, a few eggs and a jar of strawberry preserve, amongst other things.

Elliot picked up the cube of wrapped butter, turned it over in his hand and then placed it back into the basket. "One of her servants must have brought it here for you. But why leave? Why not stay?"

"Perhaps she did wait but thought I'd gone home, back to Cobham." Grace could have stamped the floor in frustration. "It was wrong of me to leave. I should have stayed. I should have waited. Mrs. Jones might have been able to tell me more."

"There's no point dwelling on it now. Besides, Barrington is far too unstable. You would not wish to be here alone if he came knocking."

Grace snorted. "Instability is a trait I am used to dealing with."

She met his intense gaze, his emerald eyes sparkling sinfully in the darkness. It felt as though her stomach held a thousand loose feathers, all floating about in a bid to torment and tickle.

"Are you referring to your husband or your sister?"