Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 2) (7 page)

"I don't want to leave." She paused and glanced down at her hands clasped together in front of her. "I … I have never known anyone I can talk to so easily. So, you have a terrible condition that is rather debilitating. I've known perfectly healthy men who are rotten to their core. What sort of a person would I be to ask for your friendship only to stumble and reject you at the first hurdle?"

Grace Denton was the most remarkable woman he had ever met.

"You don't need to fear me, Grace."

"I know," she said with a smile. "Forgive me, for storming in here and almost killing you. You have been far too kind to me and do not deserve to suffer for it."

Every minute he spent in her company caused a torturous agony to writhe in his chest and his belly.

"I presume whatever you wanted was urgent and could not wait."

She moved to the end of the bed, took the blanket and shook it out before draping it over his legs. Then she picked up her sister's diary from the floor. "It can wait until later. I'll give you some privacy so you can rest for a while. When you feel able, we'll talk then."

He couldn't help but smile. "I'll be up in a few hours." He was so tempted to ask her to stay, but he did not have the strength to fight his attraction to her. She didn't need to be seduced and pleasured by a scoundrel. The lady needed to be loved and cherished by a good man — things far beyond his meagre capabilities.

Chapter 6

"And you're sure your brother and his wife are happy for me to stay with them for a few days?" The last thing Grace wanted was to be a nuisance. Not after all the trouble she'd caused this morning. "I thought they'd recently married. Won't it be somewhat awkward?"

The carriage turned sharply, forcing her to grab onto the seat for fear of tumbling forward into Lord Markham's lap. Whenever he looked at her, she recalled the pained expression in his eyes. She recalled the look of sheer terror when she'd yanked at the drapes. Although she had been equally as scared — of him, of the strange, macabre change in his features, of the thought he might die. If only he'd told her of his terrible plight. But then she'd only known him for a day.

The realisation shocked her.

One day felt like one year.

The days spent in the company of Henry Denton ran into the hundreds, too many to count. Despite them all, he had been a relative stranger. Those ice-blue eyes would haunt her for a lifetime. The memory of such a lonely existence was more akin to gruelling torture.

She shivered at the thought.

The hours waiting for Lord Markham to rise had been spent in soulful contemplation. Whilst strolling in his garden, she'd considered a life trapped in the darkness. To never feel the sun's rays warm your skin, to never have the opportunity to lose oneself in a perfectly blue sky, was a difficult thing to comprehend.

Like a slave to the night, he was chained to the darkness. Such restrictions must inevitably cause anger and frustration to simmer. Yet tonight he appeared composed, serene, unruffled.

"They're more than happy to have you to stay," he said, and she stared at his straight teeth as he talked, wondering what trick caused them to extend.

"It will only be for a few days." Without news of Caroline, she'd have no choice but to return to Cobham. She had no idea what to do next. Perhaps she should attend another event, pose as Caroline in the hope of gathering more information. She would have to go alone. It would be unfair to expect Lord Markham's assistance after everything he'd already done for her.

For the first time in three days, she pushed her feelings for Caroline aside.

These few private minutes were probably the last she would spend with Lord Markham. The thought caused a new wave of sadness. Regardless of his reputation, she liked him, and she did not want her memory of him to be tainted by the terrifying events of the day. Judging by his reaction to Caroline's criticism of him in her diary, she assumed he received little praise for his character. Well, she could do something about that.

"Before we reach your brother's house, I would like to say something." She swallowed deeply as her cheeks grew warm.

"Say what you will. But you do not need to apologise again for opening the drapes."

"I am truly sorry about that, but no. I want to tell you that … that you are perhaps the kindest, most honest gentleman I know. I do not care what others say or what they write about you in their silly little books. There are no words to express the depth of my gratitude for all you have done to help me."

Her throat felt so tight she dare not even try to say another word.

Lord Markham's emerald eyes twinkled as his gaze drifted over her and she felt so hot she feared she'd set the seat ablaze.

One corner of his mouth curved up into a sinful smile. "You would not be so free with your compliments if you knew what I was thinking."

All the air left her lungs.

"Perhaps thinking is the wrong word," he continued in a playful tone. "Imagining seems much more appropriate."

He was teasing her, probably because he did not know how to take a compliment. "I did not say I didn't believe the salacious things I've heard. Just that I have been fortunate enough to meet the man, not the scoundrel."

"Don't dismiss the scoundrel," he said raising an arrogant brow. "Granted, he has an entirely different range of talents. But you may find you like him all the more."

"I doubt it. A man who loves with his anatomy, as opposed to his heart, can never truly satisfy either himself or the woman he chooses to please."

Lord Markham snorted. "Would you care to put such an absurd theory to the test?"

The offer sounded surprisingly tempting. After all, as a widow, she was free to pursue a liaison as long as she kept it discreet. But Grace smiled and shook her head.

"If your intention is seduction, you must do so with your character, my lord. I find boasting fills me with loathing, and the lack of genuine sentiment leaves me cold to my bones."

The thought of intimate relations purely to ease a physical urge brought memories of Henry flooding back. To lie with a man knowing he dreamed of another destroyed the soul. Recovery was slow and painful, and she would rather not experience it again.

Lord Markham leaned forward and said softly, "If your intention is to seduce me with words, you're doing a remarkable job of it."

Grace folded her arms across her chest. "May I remind you, such flattery is conducive to failure."

"What if I told you I find you enchanting?" His voice sounded smooth and rich. "What if I said, in my dreams, I have rained kisses along the soft skin above your collarbone? The sensations causing you to tremble whilst lying naked in my arms."

Oh, he was extremely good at this game.

"Then I would tell you that your words are capable of rousing my desire. But such words cannot inflame my heart. Such words cannot stir a passion so deep I would die without it. I could never settle for anything less."

"Then you suggest I am doomed to fail. You should know, failure is not a word I am comfortable with."

She wondered if his illness made him bolder. If fighting against such rigid constraints is what forced him to avoid life's complications. One mistake and he could die. To live knowing your life dangled precariously, surely hardened a heart to all emotion.

"You forget, I have experience of your heartless kisses. The memory is not one I care to revisit."

He sighed. "I agree. It was a pretty poor show. I won't make the same mistake again."

Grace's heart fluttered at the declaration. "It is the mark of a true gentleman to own up to one's faults."

"You value honesty, and so I am more than happy to give it to you."

Why did he make his last remark sound the most salacious of all?

The carriage ground to halt, and she fell forward. Lord Markham put his hand on her elbow to steady her, the considerate gesture doing far more to warm her heart than his bawdy banter.

"I shall have a word with my coachman concerning his sloppy driving. I fear Gibbs can be quite reckless in his pursuits."

She smiled. "Well, they say one's staff takes their lead from their master."

He laughed, his eyes alight with amusement. "I concede," he said holding up his hands after helping her down to the pavement. "You are the victor in this bout of quips. But know that I shall look forward to a rematch."

Lord Markham was still smiling when the butler escorted them into the hall and tapped lightly on a door to his left.

"Just give us a minute," a masculine voice boomed from behind the door.

Grace heard mumbling, giggling, what sounded like someone banging into a table.

Lord Markham coughed into his fist. "I think we have arrived at a rather inopportune moment."

"I told you this wasn't a good idea," Grace whispered.

"You may come in, Radley." A feminine voice called out to the butler. As he opened the door, they heard her whisper, "Will you stop it. Someone's here."

The butler, maintaining an impassive expression, announced them at once.

Lord Markham placed his hand at the small of her back and ushered her forward. "Mrs. Denton, may I present Lord and Lady Hale."

Offering a demure curtsy, Grace was surprised when Lady Hale stepped forward and took her hands. She had a rosy glow to her cheeks and strands of hair had fallen loose from her simple coiffure. "You must call me Evelyn," she said with a warm smile. "And my husband is Alexander. Any friend of Elliot's is a friend of ours."

Lady Hale walked over to Lord Markham. "Aren't you full of surprises," she said as he brought her hand to his lips.

He offered an affectionate smirk. "It wouldn't do to be too predictable."

"Your brother tells me you're recently married," Grace said as Lady Hale gestured for her to sit down. Lord Markham sat beside her on the sofa, stretching his legs out languidly. "May I express my felicitations."

Lord Hale narrowed his gaze. "You understand that we are not brothers in the usual sense?"

Lord Markham turned to her. "We are closer than family, hence my use of the term."

"Ignore Alexander," Lady Hale said. "They're brothers when it comes to the things that matter … friendship, trust and loyalty."

"Forgive me for disturbing you," Grace said. "I don't know what Lord Markham has told you regarding my circumstances."

"We understand your sister is missing," Lady Hale replied, her tone empathetic. "We understand you're on your own here in London, and Elliot feels it would be more appropriate if you did not stay at the home of an unmarried gentleman."

While Lady Hale did most of the talking, both Lord Hale and Lord Markham exchanged numerous glances, leading Grace to believe they were having a silent conversation.

"Not to mention the fact I almost killed him this morning," Grace added. "I'm sure he'll rest easier knowing I'm not about to tear into his chamber and rip open the drapes."

Lord Hale shot to his feet, his frantic gaze travelling over the length and breadth of Lord Markham. "Were you hurt?"

Lord Markham waved for him to sit. "A little scorched. Mrs. Denton mistook my reluctance to get up for indifference to her plight."

Yes, and for one heart-stopping moment, she had almost fainted at the shocking sight. "Thankfully, he had a decanter of bl … he had a drink to hand else I don't know what would have happened."

Both Lord and Lady Hale's mouths fell open, their eyes wide as they gaped at her.

Lord Hale cleared his throat. "Elliot told you about his affliction?"

"Of course. I have never been so frightened. His eyes were so terribly dark, almost black. I thought he was going to die."

Unless she was mistaken, Grace noticed Lady Hale smile. "Forgive me," Lady Hale began. "I do not mean to make light of such an awful experience. Elliot is such a private person. I … we are just surprised he told you."

"Under other circumstances, I doubt he would have mentioned it." Grace screwed up her nose and shook her head. "It is such a debilitating illness. I don't know how he manages."

"I am still here," Lord Markham said. "And I manage perfectly well. You make me sound like half a man."

Grace couldn't help but offer him a sultry smile. "I'm sure you do nothing in half measures, my lord."

His intense gaze drifted over her face before lingering on her lips.

Now it was Lord Hale's turn to smile. "You know, I do recall having a premonition in this room, not too long ago. When we were discussing who would be next to fall. You rebuked the notion that love—"

"Yes, yes. There's no need to drag it up," Lord Markham interjected. "I recall the conversation and am still of the same mind. As I explained to Mrs. Denton, I am not comfortable with intimacy."

"Indeed," Lord Hale replied as he studied her. "So you have led me to believe."

Lady Hale stood. "I assume you've not eaten, Mrs. Denton. I know how lax Elliot is when it comes to entertaining guests. Let me show you to your room while Mrs. Anderson prepares dinner."