The Cynfell Brothers

by Samantha Holt

  Oh dearie dear, what an evening. Lila should never have slipped out of the ball, but she had longed for a little space from her many, many suitors. It was all terribly good fun receiving attention from so many men, but it was wearying after a while and she had only been in London for a week. It was certainly a big adjustment.

  After a quick nip of brandy given to her by her grandmother, she was beginning to feel like her usual self, but she did wish all these people would leave her be. Exhaustion edged into her mind, and she resisted the desire to yawn. Her aunts and uncles were still crowded around her as though she might faint at any moment, when really all she longed to do was escape her tight corset, pull down her hair fully, and curl up in bed with a nice cup of tea and maybe a slice of cake.

  Hmm, yes, that was an appealing image.

  She bit back another encroaching yawn.

  Lord…oh she couldn’t remember his name so she called him Lord Curly Wurly due to his ridiculous moustache, was being particularly attentive. Lila kept catching the look her grandmother swung her way. This look said Lord Curly Wurly would be a fine husband. Lila wasn’t so sure. How did one kiss someone with such a ridiculous moustache?

  After all, once she was married, she intended to do much kissing. She’d dreamed of kissing men for years, and she could not wait to find herself a handsome husband who adored her and longed to kiss her every moment of the day.

  Lila tried not to stare at the moustache as it moved with his words. She missed most of what he said, but he spoke of her courage and if she needed anything...

  She snapped her gaze up. “Thank you, L—my lord. I will be quite well.”

  Lila would. She’d been waiting for her time in London for forever, and not even a murderer would spoil that. Being trapped in the countryside with only her dogs for company, she’d dreamed of what it would be like to be in London. When her parents had announced they finally wanted her to seek out a husband—at the grand old age of one and twenty no less—she’d hugged her father so tightly he’d nearly fallen over.

  By the time she’d extricated herself from her concerned suitors and family, her rescuer’s brow had deepened with grooves of annoyance. She swallowed. Why had he remained lingering in the hallway if he had not wanted to stay?

  Lila approached, feeling a little like the lion tamer stepping carefully toward the beast. His top lip was almost raised in a snarl as he eyed the hordes of suitors while they made their way out of Spencer House. However, when his gaze landed upon her, his stance and lips softened.

  Of course, she’d heard of the Cynfell brothers. They were notorious, and women were warned to stay well away, even if the marquess was one of the richest men in England. Besides which, he was now married so there went the title. While Ash Cynfell certainly lived up to the tales and reckless handsomeness, she could not quite imagine him seducing swathes of virgins. His scowl would surely keep them at bay.

  “You need not remain,” she told him when she came close. “It is so very late.”

  He cast a glance toward the men still moving reluctantly out of the door. “I did not see anyone else leaving.” Ash eased himself away from the wall and unfurled his arms.

  Goodness, that one simple movement left her mouth dry. There was something simply fascinating about watching the flex of his arms against his shirt.

  “Oh.” She tugged the jacket from around her shoulders and handed it back to him.

  Ash stared at it for a moment and slung it over one arm.

  Then his gaze struck hers again. His eyes were brown—a deep, molten chocolate brown. It was as though he knew of her weakness for the confectionary and had deliberately decided that, yes, today he would have chocolate brown eyes just to torture Miss Lila Radley. Of course, that was a preposterous notion but it made her lips twitch.

  His gaze dropped to her lips, and the furrow between his brows deepened. “I need a private word with you.”

  Her stomach danced at the words. She peered around at her family—her many, many cousins and aunts and uncles—all of whom cared for her but had a tendency to become easily distracted. At present, most were preoccupied by the fare wellings of the important men who had come really to decide if she was good enough for them.

  It was odd how excited she had been beforehand, but now she was not so sure about being weighed up by all these strange men. She would almost prefer they were staring at her with a deep, somewhat confused scowl.

  Ridiculous. This was what she’d been waiting for. This was her moment to shine.

  Lila motioned to the smaller drawing room at the side. Though she debated leaving the door open, she opted against it. No one would notice a brief disappearance amongst the chaos.

  And now she was shut in a room with this handsome man. Her corset seemed to grow tighter as she moved away from the door and waited for him to speak. He paced to the window, peered out.

  Lila scowled at his back. “My lord?”

  He appeared almost surprised she had remained when he faced her. He eyed her again as if she were some strange riddle he could not make out.

  “Have you spoken with the police?”

  “Of course, I told them everything I saw, though it was not enough I fear. I can hardly recall his face.”

  “And what did they tell you of the murder?”

  “Very little. I mean what could they possibly know already? It was the act of a madman, surely?”

  “A madman who has escaped.” He curled a fist.

  His tone sent a chill down her spine. “They assured me they will capture him.”

  “Miss Radley, I think you should consider leaving London. It’s not safe here.”

  Lila stared at him. She hardly knew this man, and yet he thought it reasonable to tell her what to do. “I will not.”

  The words came out harder and more flustered than she’d intended. She drew in a breath and adopted a delicate smile—one she’d practiced over and over in the mirror as she’d imagined curtseying to all the handsome, fine men in London. She never thought she’d be doing it to a man who was at present staring at her as though she had just stripped off all her clothes and done a jig in the middle of the drawing room. He appeared thoroughly perplexed by her refusal.

  “My lord, I have only just arrived in London, and I know I may not look the sturdiest of characters but be assured, I will not let such a matter ruin my time here. No doubt it shall take some time to forget, but I think it will be far easier to forget it amongst London society than out in the country.”

  “You will not find it so easy to forget if you end up in danger,” he said grimly.

  “What could possibly happen to me? I am never alone, even if I wish to be—”

  “You were alone tonight,” Ash interjected and took a step closer as if to intimidate her.

  Lila squared her shoulders. While she might look every part the delicate debutante, growing up on her parent’s estate had taught her much. She was not unused to dealing with boorish creatures—usually in the form of a horse or a farmer’s stubborn pig—but she would not be intimidated by Ash Cynfell, even if his chocolatey eyes had turned thunderous.

  “I made a mistake and I shall not make it again,” she assured him coolly.

  “And you think your family can protect you?”

  “Protect me from what? My lord, if I were a murderer, I would be halfway across the country by now, not waiting around to commit another crime.”

  “You are not a serial killer.” He’d inched closer again at some point and now perhaps only a pace separated them.

  Lila placed a hand to the delicate marble-topped console table next to her to steady herself. “A serial killer? L-like the Ripper?”

  He nodded slowly.

  A laugh escaped her. “Do not be silly. This was a horrible, horrible act, but surely someone would have said. The papers would have written something about it by now.”

  “I should imagine after the Ripper murders, they are wanting to keep it quiet. After all, they won’t want a pan
ic or to risk any of those copycat murders.”

  A chill ran through her, and she wished for the subtly scented comfort of his jacket. She recalled tales of the Ripper, even though she had been but a young girl when the murders took place. But her older brother, who had left to study in Europe many, many years ago, had loved to terrify her with stories of him.

  Her head spun a little and nausea rolled in her stomach as flashes of blood and the cry of a dying man raced through her mind. Ash put a hand to her arm to steady her.

  “Let’s get you some air.”

  Though tempted to reply with something pithy about her safety, she had grown too light-headed so allowed him to lead her out. He kept a hold of her arm while they made their way down the steps and along the side railings. Ahead, she could see the police around the man’s body and a few people lingered while they waited for their carriages to be brought around. What had started as an exciting, wonderful evening of dancing and flirting had become so very grim. She sighed. Oh deary dear.

  Lila concentrated on drawing in breaths while Ash helped her rest against the stone plinth in front of the house.

  “Can I get someone for you?” he asked, concern etched into his brow.

  She wondered then at the lines in his brow. He wasn’t an old man so what had him so pained in life. He must take things seriously indeed. It was hardly the right circumstances, but she was willing to wager he rarely smiled even in the best of them.

  Lila shook her head. The last thing she wanted was her aunts and cousins fussing over her. She’d had enough of that tonight and was weary of it.

  “I just need a few moments.”

  He nodded stiffly and set to pacing slowly in front of her, like a sentry guard at Buckingham Palace.

  “You’re making me dizzy,” she told him softly, although that wasn’t really the truth.

  He made her uncomfortable. In an odd sort of way. In a she longed to tear off her bodice and press herself against him sort of way. It made her feel hot and fidgety and did not help with the whole struggling to breathe and feeling sick thing.

  He paused. “Forgive me.” Hands clasped behind his back, he eyed her. “You should leave London.”

  “Yes, you said that, and no, I will not. I will not let some madman ruin my time here.”

  “I suppose you do not wish to be taken away from your suitors.” The bitter tone to his voice surprised and riled her.

  “No, I do not,” she snapped. “By the time my stay in London is at an end, I fully intend to be engaged.”

  His eyes flared. But why?

  “You should have caution, Miss Radley. Marriage is not something one should take lightly. It is not a game.”

  “Are you married?” She knew he was not—an aunt had muttered as much—but she was trying to make a snide point. It was odd. She had spent her whole night being pleasant and charming, but with this man, to whom she owed her life, she could not seem to summon her carefully practiced manners.

  “I am not.”

  Lila gave a tiny triumphant smile, but it seemed to be lost on him.

  “Any one of those men could be the killer.”

  A tiny giggle escaped her as she imagined Lord Curly Wurly brandishing a knife. “Do not be ridiculous.”

  “For all you know, it could have been someone attending the party tonight.”

  “I think I would have recognised him. Besides, I hardly noticed anyone attired in blood-soaked clothing, did you?”

  “The best place to hide is in plain sight.”

  “And you’re an expert on this are you?”

  Ash’s jaw twitched as he eyed her. “You really are determined to get yourself hurt. I should go to your family and demand they protect you.”

  “And they shall laugh just as I have. They no more want to end my stay here than I do. A good match shall be good for all of us.”

  It was true. Her father owned a baronetcy and her mother came from good family, but they were wanted more for her—all of them. From a young age, Lila had been seen as their great hope. Blonde, pretty, sweet-natured. And then she’d grown into a woman with an enviable figure and her mother had told everyone that there was simply no way that she would not attract a wealthy, powerful man, because why else had she been born so blessed? Born into a family of generally awkward and slightly scatter-brained relatives, Lila had always been aware she was different from them all.

  And yet not so much. She’d been awkward once. Her brain liked to jump from place to place too. But she had worked hard to become graceful and to focus on whatever the eligible gentleman in front of her had to say. Lila had become an expert on being the perfect debutante—all from her own bedroom. Those hours of practice and pretending were paying off.

  She suppressed a yawn. It had been more tiring and less exciting than she’d thought it would be.

  “You should get some rest,” Ash told her.

  “Some of the guests are not yet gone.”

  “And you have just witnessed a murder. I am sure they will understand. Bloody hell, you’re a stubborn mule, are you not?”

  Lila fluttered her lashes in surprise. She hadn’t meant to rile the man. Really, she was most grateful to him, but whatever she said came out wrong. Ash Cynfell was an eligible bachelor. Why could she not use her charms on him?

  Too tired, that was it. She needed some rest and tomorrow she would offer him her heartiest and most charming thanks.

  A gentleman approached, and Ash stiffened. Lila remembered dancing with him but couldn’t recall his name. As he came closer, the familiar scent of too much cologne also reminded her how she’d had to breathe through her mouth lest she pass out from the overpowering smell.

  “Miss Radley.” He dipped low. “Thank you for a charming evening. I am so sorry it ended like this. I hope you will not object to me calling upon you in the near future.”

  Lila glanced over the reedy man with his hair covered in so much pomade it looked as though one could ice skate upon it. What was his name? He was an earl, perhaps. Or maybe even a duke.

  “I-I thank you, my lord.” She almost whispered the last part for fear of getting it wrong, but he accepted it. He couldn’t be a duke then. Thank goodness.

  He reached for her hand and she was going to let him take it, but Ash stepped in and slapped his hand away. Before she had quite registered what had happened, Ash had the man pinned against the railings outside of the house. The lord’s face grew purple.

  “My lord, what are you doing? Release him.” She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away but never in her life had she felt so powerless.

  “The blood on your shirt. Where did it come from?” Ash ground out.

  Never before had Lila seen so much fury and restrained strength. Yes, the earl or the duke or whatever he happened to be was not in the best of positions, but she had no doubt if Ash wanted to kill the man, he could with ease. It was a little thrilling for some strange reason.

  “What blood?” Lord Pomade gargled.

  “On your shirt. Where did it come from?”

  “A-a nose bleed.” The man’s voice came out a strangled whisper. “I am prone to them.”

  Ash held him there long enough that Lila feared the man’s head might simply pop off. Slowly, he released him, and the Earl of Pomade readjusted his necktie and drew in several ragged breaths. It was only then that Lila noted the blood spots in the man’s shirt. Ash had thought him the killer.

  Oh my. Her stomach swooped a little at the idea of him running to her defence once more. It was much easier to appreciate when she was not in real danger.

  “Miss Radley.” Duke Pomade offered a stiff bow and retreated quickly with a wary glance at Ash.

  “Good night, Lord Pom—” She clapped a hand over her mouth and eased it away. “Good night, my lord.”

  The lord swung a look between them both and clearly concluded they were the maddest people he had ever encountered. Before she could scold Ash for his awful manners, a gentleman approached. One of the policemen
, she realised. He wasn’t wearing a bobby’s uniform, but she’d heard someone call him Chief Superintendent.

  The shadows from the street and his tall hat hid most of his face, but he was at least as old as Lord Pomade and a hint of grey hair revealed itself when he turned his head to her.

  “Miss Radley, may I have a word?”

  She nodded, glancing back at Ash to see his fierce scowl. Lila held up a palm as though trying to assuage the beast. He gave a resigned dip of his head and backed away.

  “How can I help?” she said to the officer.

  “If you will just come with me, Miss Radley.”

  The officer took her arm. She released a tiny startled sound. She’d been manhandled plenty this night, but she hardly expected an officer of the law to touch her inappropriately. Tugging her arm from his, she turned. “Why do you need me, officer?”

  Her heart stilled when lamplight flooded his face. It had been dark before and all she had really focused on was the knife. But she saw it now. The killer. Her knees nearly gave way, but the man grabbed her.

  No, this wasn’t a man. He was a monster. In the depth of those ice-grey eyes, she saw the truth. Here was a killer, a man who thirsted for blood. An understanding ran between them. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and now she’d pay for it. Now he wanted her blood.

  Her skin grew hot and prickly. The need to act flooded her veins. She twisted, but he grabbed her by her hair and clamped a hand over her mouth. She screamed against a clammy palm and stomped her foot down hard but her slippers had little effect. He was easily over six feet tall. She had no chance against him.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Her debut was going to be an endless parade of parties and flirtations. Now she would likely suffer the same as that poor man. Torn apart by a blade. The images of blood and flesh tearing filled her mind and the thud in her head began to deafen. Her vision grew blurry, but she pushed down hard with her feet again and wriggled against his hold. Lila tried to open her mouth to bite on his hand. However, he had her mouth clamped painfully shut.

  A cry tore from her, muffled by the damp palm. Whether it was her imagination going wild nor not, she could have sworn the metallic scent of blood clung to the chief. Her stomach gave a little lurch, and she cried out again as he dragged her farther into the shadows—away from everyone. Away from her rescuer.