Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood 1)

“Forgive me,” she said, overcome with a desperate need to wipe the smirk off his face. “What else was I supposed to think when you have the mouth of a sewer rat?”

“This is an interesting game,” he said showing no sign of offence. “I cannot recall the last time my mind was as stimulated as my —”

“I do not need to hear more of your vulgarity.”

He put his hand on his chest and laughed. “My vulgarity? Have you cared to glance in the mirror? Your hair gives the impression that you’ve recently been tumbled. Your gown is far too small and at any moment. I am in danger of being blinded. Your lips are red and swollen from—”

“It is lip rouge,” she said thrusting her hands on her hips. At least, she hoped that’s what was in the silver cachou box. Their mother had often said such things were naught but selfish vanity to mask a weak mind. “And I have put on weight since I last wore this dress. There is nothing vulgar or lewd about any of it.”

“Are you not a courtesan, Caroline? Do you not openly court vulgarity?”

Grace suppressed a gasp upon hearing her sister’s name pass from his lips. She knew the depths of her sister’s disgrace but saying it so openly made it seem so crude, so terribly heartbreaking.

“I am a lady, my lord,” she said unable to control the anger that infused her tone, “and I ask you to have a care. I have tolerated your uncouth manner for long enough.”

When he smiled, she knew she had made a mistake.

Lord Markham bowed. “Please accept my humble apology.” There was not even a hint of sarcasm in his tone, and she felt a shiver race down her spine as she suspected her worst fear was about to come to fruition. “I’m afraid your deception forced me to blunt.”

“My … my deception? Now you’re speaking in riddles, my lord.”

“Despite wearing her necklace, I think we both know you’re not Caroline Rosemond. The question is, who the hell are you and what do you want with me?”

Chapter 2

Elliot watched the lady’s lips move, but no words came out. He had seen through her guise almost instantly. Even a king’s hosier with access to the finest silk stockings couldn’t pad a corset sufficiently to make small breasts appear so deliciously soft and plump.

Indeed, he was still trying to determine whether he was so aroused by the lady’s witty banter, he felt angry he’d not get the chance to bury himself inside her. Or, was he so angry with her for mistaking him for a fool, the need to command and conquer had caused desire to ignite.

Either way, anger and desire whirled around inside to leave him both frustrated and highly irritable.

“Let us find somewhere a little more private.” He cupped her elbow, his grip firm as he steered her towards the terrace.

“Where are we going?” she said tottering along beside him, and he could hear the nervous flutter in her voice. Caroline Rosemond would have offered a flirtatious remark, suggesting she was game for whatever vigorous pursuit he had in mind. Although there was always a price and he’d never been willing to pay.

“To find somewhere quiet so we can talk.”

The lady began mumbling to herself, her words softer than a whisper.

When he reached the doors leading out to the garden, she shrugged out of his grasp. “We can’t go out there. What if someone should see us?”

“You forget, the majority of the guests will assume you’re Caroline Rosemond. Trust me, she would have no problem being seen alone in the garden with a gentleman.”

She grabbed his sleeve and tugged it, forcing him to lean closer. A waft of orange blossom tickled his nose, the scent sweet and refreshing. “I think we have already established I am not Caroline. What if someone else sees through my disguise?”

“The only way that’s going to happen is if you continue to grumble and complain. Hold your head up and walk like you’re desperate to be alone with me.”

What if he tries to kiss me?

Her silent question bounded back and forth in his head. It was the first coherent thought he’d been able to hone in on. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to press myself upon your innocent lips,” he added though he was tempted to see if she tasted as good as he imagined.

“I did not presume you would. But perhaps they are not so innocent.”

“Of course not,” he said suppressing a grin. He’d bet fifty guineas she’d turn into a quivering wreck at the mere mention of anything more salacious than kissing.

He liked the way she puckered her lips when annoyed. It made a change from the sultry smiles and provocative pouts usually cast his way. When she’d squared her shoulders, she’d offered him another little treat. Although little was hardly the right word to describe such a plentiful display. They were soft, heavy and utterly magnificent.

“Are we to stand here all night gaping?” she said, and he shook his head in a bid to focus on the matter at hand. “People are beginning to stare.”