Moonspun Magic (Magic Trilogy 3)

“I will ensure it’s done tomorrow.”

“When we leave, Damien will probably have it unboarded again.”

“With all the servants knowing about the passageway? I imagine that he might find himself with a problem—the servants just might use the passageway for their own trysts.”

Rafael didn’t tell Victoria when he was going to speak to Damien. He simply waited until she went to the nursery to visit Damaris. He ran his twin to ground in his estate room. As he closed the door quietly behind him, Damien turned from his position at the window. His expression was thoughtful, his arms crossed over his chest.

He said nothing, merely watched Rafael stride to the single leather chair beside the small marble fireplace, sit down, and stretch his long legs out in front of him. “We must talk.”

“Do you really think so?”

Rafael kept firm control of his temper. He steepled his fingers, saying easily, “It’s time for home truths, Damien. I was sorely tempted to kill you for your lies about Victoria. I was sorely tempted to kill for your seductive playacting with my wife. I was sorely tempted to kill you once I realized you had watched Victoria and me making love. Regardless of my own personal feelings toward you, I’ve nonetheless always believed you a complex man, and no matter what wickedness you did, I still believed you held some honor dear. But our actions toward both Victoria and myself have been distasteful, reprehensible, and dishonorable.”

“What did she tell you? Did she claim I’d tried to seduce her? I find that mightily amusing, Rafael, particularly since all I’ve tried to do is warn—”

“I suggest you shut up,” Rafael said. “Really, brother, you are very close to physical harm at this moment. There’s no more reason to lie to me about Victoria, about anything.”

“This is how you repay my hospitality? You attack me? Insult me?”

Rafael could only stare at his twin. “You’re amazing, truly. Victoria and I will leave on Monday, but before we do, I must have done with your unorthodox and quite filthy little club. I assume you spoke with Johnny Tregonnet after I took my leave of him at the Ostrich. I trust I didn’t break his jaw.”

Damien merely shook his head, turning his back on his brother to stare out the window onto the western lawn. Two gardeners were scything the now thinning fall grass, their movements practiced and graceful.

“I suppose I was a fool,” Damien said in a meditative voice, “to keep that note from Johnny. But who would have thought that you, brother, would discover the passageway?”

“Suffice it to say that I did.”

“May I inquire why you are so terribly intent on destroying our private little club?”

“Did you know, Damien, for the past five years or so I’ve been something in the nature of a spy for England against the French? No, I guess there was no reason for you to imagine such a thing. Well, in any case, it no longer matters because my skulduggery days are over. I accepted just one last assignment from Lord Walton at the ministry. You see, no one would have ever bothered about this ridiculous little Hellfire Club if you hadn’t raped Viscount Bainbridge’s daughter by mistake. It was the fatal error. Now your little club must be disbanded, the Ram—that phallic ass—brought to justice.”

Damien scoffed. “Brought to justice? All the world is to know that Viscount Bainbridge’s precious daughter was raped by eight men? You jest, Rafael. No father would want that public.”

“I suppose I should have been more specific. Once I discover the identity of the Ram I will tell Lord Walton, who will in turn tell the viscount. The Ram will be given two choices: first, he can leave England forever, or second, he will die. Removed from this earth like the scum he is, no duel, nothing that could smack of honorable differences between gentlemen. No, removed, quickly.” Rafael paused a moment, closely watching his brother’s face. He read little there, frustration perhaps, and a touch of fear and maybe aggression. But not a single great emotion to sweep all others before it.

“No one will grieve for him, you know, not for a twisted evil creature like him. I don’t really want you dead, Damien. No matter that you’ve more than likely enjoyed yourself mightily raping young girls. But it will stop. You will stop.”

Damien said nothing. He picked up a silver letter knife from his desktop. He gently slid the razor-sharp edge along the pad of his thumb.

“What about Elaine? Have you no feeling for her at all? You also have an adorable daughter, and an heir to be born shortly. What the hell is the matter with you, Damien? Why have you continued to play the satyr? Oh, yes, two can use the peepholes, you know. I saw you and Molly. I had wondered the day before why the girl’s mobcap was crooked and there was a vacuous smile on her face. Why, Damien?”

Damien raised his head from concentrated study of the letter knife. He looked at his brother squarely. “Boredom,” he said. “Pure and simple boredom.” He laughed at Rafael’s incredulous expression. “You believe I should be satisfied being Baron Drago, owning Drago Hall and all its damned antiquity? You believe I should continue deliriously happy with a woman whose only claim to my affections is the yearly dowry payments made me by her damnable father?

“You believe I should be content wandering about my acres, counting the trees that dot my land? You believe it the best of all possible outcomes for me to have wed at the age of twenty-two? Lord, I hadn’t even begun to live, and there I was with a damned wife. Surely you can’t be that blind, brother, you who prevented boredom quite effectively through your spying adventures, you who had no worries about how to maintain this hideous pile of stone, no damned responsibilities toward the Carstairs line. Even now, you thumb your nose at me, at all the aristocracy, and calmly enter the tin-mine trade after making a fortune as a merchant. Even now, you find yourself married to a woman who has brought you fifty thousand pounds.

“I have resented you for many years now, Rafael, more years than I care to consider. I know you must sometimes remember Patricia—yes, I recall her as well, the silly little fool, though her last name eludes me. I enjoyed taking her from you. I enjoyed plowing her, knowing that you watched. You were always much too much the careful, sincere lover when what dear Patricia wanted was forcefulness and dominance. But that was years ago, too many to dredge up now.”

“Far too many,” Rafael said.

?

??I will leave Victoria alone. Her leg is quite ugly with its ridged red scar. It was simple sport that last time—seeing if I could fool her into my bed. No, I don’t want her.”

Rafael stiffened, his fists clenching. “It is enough, Damien. Surely it is enough.”

Damien shrugged, an elaborate motion that was identical to his twin’s. “You know, I do believe that I will give you the Ram.”

“I beg your pardon?”