Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood 2)

Elliot cast a sympathetic smile. "The only thing I'm afraid of is losing Grace. I'm in love with her. I will wait a lifetime for her if need be. I'm not interested in anyone or anything else. But we will always be brothers. My home is your home. Nothing can break the connection or the bond that exists between us. Yes, we have paid dearly for those nights in Bavaria. But we have gained something precious in the process. Friendship and love and loyalty. Qualities I may never have possessed had it not been for our terrible affliction."

In the crowded ballroom, Leo threw his arms around him. "Then you must go to Cobham, my friend." He pulled away and grasped Elliot's upper arms. "You must fight for your love as you fought to save me, as you fought for Alexander and Evelyn."

Elliot felt a wave of sadness wash over him. "What will you do?"

"I shall do as you suggest. I do have something in mind," Leo replied cryptically. "I too must have a purpose. And when I have achieved my objective, I shall come visit you, wherever that may be. Now, get yourself off home and leave me to drown my sorrows between Melinda Jefferies' padded thighs."

Elliot grinned, but then the corners of his mouth drooped. "You will be alright? Tell me you'll not satisfy your thirst on the Season's most coveted debutante?"

Leo waved him away. "I'm over that. I have my sights set on a much great prize. But I'll tell you more when I see you next."

A sudden sense of foreboding flared, but Elliot pushed it aside believing it stemmed from his reluctance to say goodbye. "We will see each other soon," he said to reassure himself more than Leo. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it. Grace loves you. I heard the words from her own lips. I could feel it radiate from her like a beacon."

"I pray you're right."

After embracing Leo once more, Elliot left Viscount Thorpe's ball with a renewed sense of optimism. Before leaving for Stony Cross, Evelyn had told him of Grace's love for the countryside. She had intimated he could spend his time between London and Yorkshire. Hell, the staff at Moorscroft would have a fit of apoplexy if he informed them he intended to take up residency. Some adjustments would need to be made. With any luck, Grace would help him deal with the traumas associated with his affliction.

As he climbed into his carriage, two questions pushed to the fore.

Would Grace consent to be his wife?

Would she choose love over loyalty?

Chapter 22

"I swear, no matter what I eat it all tastes awfully strange," Caroline said turning her nose up at her dinner. She pushed the plate away with a look of disgust. "Unless it's fish. Yet that makes my stomach grumble so loud it sounds like there's a bear trapped inside."

Grace glanced at their mother, pleased that she had decided to sit with them this evening. Since returning home after tending to her infirm aunt, she had been distant, far too quiet. Caroline's news had come as a huge shock and a bitter disappointment, not that her sister cared. Caroline had no shame and went out of her way to mention her condition at every opportunity.

Indeed, her sister's constant complaining was beginning to grate.

"It's as though cook has sprinkled a thousand iron filings over the beef and all I ca

n taste is gritty metal," Caroline continued. She glanced across at Grace. "You're quiet this evening. Are you going to tell us all what's wrong?"

Grace feigned surprise as she had no intention of discussing her dilemma with anyone. "Wrong? Nothing is wrong. I am perfectly fine. The beef tastes like beef and so what have I to complain about."

Caroline narrowed her gaze until her eyes were but beady round holes. "You've not been yourself of late. If something is troubling you, you only need say." Her hand flew to her chest. She stuck out her tongue and grimaced as though she'd been foolish enough to suck on a slice of lemon. "Oh, it's revolting."

"Caroline," their mother said by way of a reprimand. "Must you behave so crudely when we're seated at the table?"

Caroline inclined her head. "Forgive me. I'm sure I shall get used to it."

Grace brought her napkin to her lips, which was an excuse to smell the sandalwood shaving soap she'd rubbed into the skin on the inside of her wrists.

As she inhaled deeply, an image of Elliot flooded her mind. Her heart swelled with love, her soul cried out in anguish.

She could cope in the daytime.

Caroline kept her busy, demanding to bathe every morning and evening, wanting her hair brushed a hundred times, convinced it was the only way to prevent it losing its lustre.

Grace didn't have the strength to argue. Her body moved in a series of mechanical motions yet some fundamental part of her was missing. A part of her still dwelled in London, in a bedchamber in Portman Square.

The nights were an entirely different matter.

The nights were unbearable. Sleep eluded her. Even when she did manage to drift off, Elliot bombarded her dreams with his handsome face and witty remarks. The pain upon waking — only to realise it had all been a figment of her wild imagination — was often worse than the pain of living with the knowledge she had lost her one true love.