Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood 2)

Alexander snorted. "No doubt he has been waylaid by some lady or other. He's probably forgotten all about the task we set him."

"What if he's failed to discover what we need to know?" There was no mistaking the panic in Grace's voice.

"Don't worry." Elliot turned to face her. "If need be, I'll speak to Lord Sudley, and I'll not leave here until I do."

Grace hurried to the music room, sneaking back inside when she thought no one was looking. She spotted her gloves on the floor behind the door and breathed a sigh of relief. It would not take much for someone to find them and realise she was the only lady at the ball with bare hands.

Not that it mattered.

Hopefully, this would be last time she'd need to go out in Society.

As she bent down to retrieve them, she noticed the light in the room quickly diminish, heard the door creak. When she straightened, she almost expired on the spot and had to put her hand to her heart to stop it bursting from her chest.

"Lord Barrington." She gasped as the gentleman closed the door firmly behind him.

It occurred to her to scream. Surely he would behave himself in such a crowded place. But the room wasn't crowded; it was empty, dark, and they were alone.

"Forgive me for barging in here unannounced," he said waving his hands in the air. "I have recently been made aware that you are not, in fact, Miss Rosemond. I know I acted appallingly the other night. Indeed, I still bear the scars. Punishment for my uncouth behaviour, though I only have a vague recollection of events."

Grace noticed the shadow of a bruise on his cheek, the way he stood slightly off balance favouring his right side. While she appreciated the apology, something about the gentleman's manner unsettled her.

"Well, you were not to know," she said, desperate to flee the room and be reunited with Elliot on the terrace. "But you cannot behave in such a disrespectful manner. I do not think Caroline would appreciate your high-handed approach."

She should not have made her feelings known.

Not because her opinion lacked merit, but because the gentleman had a strange look in his eye. A flicker of disdain. A dislike for women who spoke their mind.

"You are so like her in many ways." He stared at the mole on her cheek before his gaze moved to her lips. "Indeed, a gentleman might convince himself you were one and the same."

A bolt of fear shot through her and she glanced at the closed door. "But you know that is not the case. You know we are kin. We are sisters. You know I am not Caroline."

He shrugged. "What does it matter? You look the same." His beady black eyes fell to the neckline of her gown. "Although you appear to have an advantage over your sister. Still, you behave in the same free and easy manner. Else why would you rush into a dark room to reclaim your gloves? You do know once Markham has taken what he wants he will discard you without thought or care."

"You make it sound as though I am a pawn to be used and discarded. I am not ignorant to the tactics employed by men. But I am bound to no one."

Lord Barrington took a step closer and Grace shuffled two steps back.

"But you could be. I shall make you the same proposition I made Caroline." Like a man suffering from a serious lack of sustenance, his hungry gaze devoured her. "Indeed, I may be inclined to increase my original offer as I fear I shall be getting rather more for my money."

It took a tremendous amount of effort not to slap him.

"And what did you offer?" Grace took another step bac

k. The aisle between the rows of chairs was the only means of escape. She would have no option but to barge past Lord Barrington's large frame.

Lord Barrington gave a sly grin. "A house, fully staffed and equipped, which I will maintain for as long as you maintain me."

Repulsed by his comment, Grace shivered. Had he not accosted her when he believed her to be Caroline, Lord Barrington would be the prime suspect on her list of gentlemen capable of doing serious harm to a lady.

"Of course, there would be a substantial monthly income," he continued with an indolent wave. "The use of a carriage and an account at a modiste of your choosing."

"So, essentially you are asking me to be your mistress?" Grace's only thought was to keep the man talking in the hope of escaping. Her options were limited. She could attempt to run past him. She could climb across the chairs or pick one up and hit him with it.

Then another option struck her. Elliot had said he could feel her passion. He had said their connection made it possible to hear one another's thoughts.

Elliot. Come quickly.

She poured every ounce of affection she had for him into the silent plea.