Wynter's Bite | Historical Paranormal Romance: Vampires (Scandals With Bite Book 5)

by Brooklyn Ann

  “Yes, her mother made certain to thrust her at me at the soonest opportunity. Soon I shall have to take another bride to fend off the matchmakers.” Gavin released a weary sigh. Every fifty years or so, he had a female vampire pose as his wife to deflect suspicion at him remaining single too long. “But you typically hold them at bay with your reputation as a notorious rake and ravisher of maidens. If you give that yellow-haired Miss too much undue attention, you’ll either ruin her, or find yourself caught in the parson’s mousetrap.”

  “All right!” Justus held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll keep my distance from the young lady.”

  But that proved easier said than done.

  As he caught a glimpse of another eligible bachelor leading Bethany to the dance floor, he alternated between grinding his teeth in irritation and wondering what she thought of Voltaire.

  Chapter Four

  Bethany spent the rest of the evening in a daze of lightheaded happiness. Rebecca had been right. After Lord de Wynter danced with her, gentlemen did indeed pay her more attention, which placated her mother after she’d given her a furious scold.

  After Bethany had accepted the first gentleman’s invitation to dance, she’d cast Rebecca a grateful grin. The girl had given her a tight-lipped smile in return, yet her countenance had taken on a queer cast. Perhaps her new acquaintance was not feeling well, Bethany thought with a wave of sympathy.

  Her dancing partner, a squire’s son, was amiable enough, but she couldn’t help but feel that their conversation was stilted and awkward. The man didn’t enjoy reading, and seemed obsessed with gambling on horse races. Bethany just couldn’t sustain interest, no matter how much she tried. It was nothing like her discussion with Lord de Wynter. As if conjured by the thought, she saw a flash of red over her dancing partner’s shoulder.

  There he was, talking with Lord Darkwood. Their eyes met, and Bethany’s belly fluttered with the most alarming sensation. She’d been so afraid earlier, when she’d shyly made her way towards him on Rebecca’s advice. There was something vibrant and dangerous about him, this man her mother had warned her away from. His hair such a deep red that it looked sinful, his eyes green and somehow reminding her of a great cat.

  She couldn’t stop reliving the moment they’d first touched when he’d led her to the dance floor. The rapid beat of her pulse roared in her ears as his hand rested on her lower back and she’d grasped his firm, warm shoulder. When their gloved fingers intertwined, how her breath caught as electricity seemed to surge through their palms.

  He was a rake, she reminded herself. She’d even heard snatches of conversion that hinted at a past dalliance between him and their hostess, which made her stomach clench with jealousy.

  Yet now, as he tipped her a wink before turning back to Lord Darkwood, all Bethany could think of was the patient way he’d guided her in the dance, and how they’d talked of literature until their punch was long since finished. When he’d at last escorted her back to her mother, she’d felt a sharp pang in her chest, as if she’d just lost a dear friend.

  Bethany’s lips curved in a self-mocking smile. First she’d regarded him as a dangerous rogue, and now suddenly he’s a friend? Perhaps her mind was indeed addled from reading too many books, as her father insisted. Yet it had felt so good to talk about her great passion with someone who’d understood. Like she wasn’t alone in the world.

  Perhaps she could recreate the experience with a gentleman who could be a potential suitor. Ignoring her mother’s advice, Bethany attempted to discuss books with her next three dance partners. Alas, every one of them eyed her with the same impatient boredom as Lord Darkwood had.

  She cast Darkwood a quick spiteful glance. Why did de Wynter have to be friends with such a cad? As if sensing her scrutiny, Darkwood’s black eyes suddenly whipped to hers. She shivered. There was something frightening about that man. He brought to mind a villain in a gothic novel.

  For the rest of the evening, she caught de Wynter looking at her, sometimes even starting toward her as if to ask for another dance, but he never did.

  Disappointment weighed on her as her mother packed her in the carriage shortly after midnight. Decent maidens never stayed until the wee hours of the morning, after all.

  Just as Bethany was about to step into the conveyance, she spotted a glimmer of crimson. Lord de Wynter stood on one of the balconies. He raised his hand in a wave.

  She couldn’t wave back, but she flicked her fan in his direction, smiling over the lace.

  Her father interrupted the covert exchange. “Did you enjoy your first ball, my dear?”

  “Oh yes,” she said sincerely. Unable to tell him the true reason, she spoke of everything but. “I very much enjoyed the dancing and Lady Ellingsworth was a capital hostess. And her decor brought to mind a fairy kingdom.”

  His eyes narrowed in displeasure. “Fairies are not real. What have I told you about speaking of fanciful nonsense?”

  “I did not mean—” she broke off at his warning glare and bowed her head. “I am sorry, Papa.”

  As silence fell over the carriage, she scolded herself for forgetting Father’s odd terror of anything that fell beyond the bounds of realism. It seemed to consume him so much that even when they’d arrived at home, he still regarded her with a worried look as if he expected her to declare that Pegasus had conveyed them here, or pixies were on the roof.

  However, even his reprimand could not dull her happiness of this night.

  Once tucked into her bed, Bethany closed her eyes and once more relived her dance with the captivating viscount. The feel of being in his arms, his charming smile, the delight and interest in his eyes as they’d discussed Chaucer.

  And finally, that secret smile and wave from the Ellingsworths’ balcony.

  Perhaps he was interested in her. Perhaps he would even pay her a call upon the morrow!

  But he did not. In fact, no gentleman dropped by the Meads’ country house all morning. Between visits with matrons who came to call, Lady Wickshire cast Bethany censorious glares and admonished her to try harder to be charming at the next gathering.

  Yet it was difficult to muster charm when her emotions were ratcheting back and forth between disappointment that she’d misjudged de Wynter’s interest, and embarrassment for being so foolish as to think she would mean anything to someone such as him. He dallied with married women and never showed interest in green girls like her. Why did Bethany think she would be any different?

  She tried to hide her desolation as she accompanied her mother to a musicale performed by Miss Chatterton, one of the girls who had dared her to approach Lord de Wynter in the first place. Her sadness turned to joy when she saw a familiar red-haired figure sitting with the other bachelors on the far side of the music room. Their eyes met and he tipped her a wink.

  Her flesh heated all over even as she chided herself for responding to him. He could only be interested in one thing. Quickly, she averted her gaze, resolving to ignore him. But throughout Miss Chatterton’s dull plinks on the pianoforte, Bethany could feel de Wynter’s gaze on her. Even worse, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at him whenever no one was looking.

  Blast him! How was she expected to find a husband with him distracting her? Rakes promised ravishment, not marriage. Suddenly, a vision of de Wynter holding her tight in his arms flashed across her mind. Of his lips covering hers, his hands caressing her bare skin…

  Bethany bit back a gasp. What was the matter with her? Surely she did not want to be ravished!

  When silence fell and the people around her began to clap, Bethany tore her attention back to her surroundings and rose with her mother to mingle with the guests and nibble on tea cakes. She would ignore him, not look his way again. She would—

  A light touch on her elbow made her shiver. She whipped around to see Lord de Wynter smiling down at her. He held an old book in his hands.

  “I thought you might be interested in this one,” he said softly. “You may borrow it if yo
u like.”

  Their gloved fingers touched as he handed her the slim, battered volume. Once more, an electric thrill coursed through her body at his touch.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, heart blooming with delight. A book!

  He bowed. “I’m afraid I must go, but I do look forward to discussing that book in the future.” Green eyes glittering with an unspoken intensity that made her pulse quicken, he gave her a teasing grin. “I do hope you’re a quick reader.”

  With that, he departed, slinking away on soundless feet like a tiger off to the watering hole.

  Bethany looked down at the book he’d handed to her. The Faerie Queen by Edmund Spenser. Just as she was about to open the cover, she felt a light rap on her shoulder and looked up to see her mother scowling down at her. “What did he want?”

  “He loaned me a book.” Bethany made sure to emphasize the fact that he hadn’t given it to her. Her mother would have an attack of the vapors if a man gave her daughter any sort of gift without a formal betrothal in place.

  Cecily’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Why would he do that?”

  “During our dance last night, we discovered that we share a common interest in medieval literature,” Bethany explained warily, knowing Mother disapproved of her broaching such topics. “So he thought I may enjoy this one. Hardly the behavior of one with improper intentions. Look.” She pointed at the far end of the room where Lord de Wynter was bowing to Lady Chatterton. “He’s already leaving.”

  “So he is,” Lady Mead murmured with patent relief.

  Why was he leaving so soon? Bethany wondered. Had some emergency come up? Another thought teased her mind, filling her with such pleasure she grew lightheaded.

  Or did he only come here for the sheer purpose of bringing me a book?

  Chapter Five

  Justus delivered his farewells to Lady Chatterton, praising her daughter on a magnificent performance, though to be truthful, he’d hardly paid attention. All his focus had been dedicated to discreetly slipping the book to Miss Mead in such a way that would not compromise her reputation. And, of course, ignoring that inner voice demanding why it was so important for him to give some debutante a book in the first place.

  Lady Chatterton crooned in token disappointment at Justus’s early departure, but her eyes were on Lord Darkwood as the most desired match for her daughter. She was hunting the wrong fox there, Justus thought with a chuckle. Unless she fancied the idea of her little heiress growing fangs and drinking blood.

  Gavin would only marry other vampires once or twice a century. And those marriages were in name only, for the sole purpose of driving back match-making mothers. Justus much preferred to be the bane of said mothers, carefully refining his image as an unrepentant rake and ne’er do well. He didn’t have time for a wife, as his duties as Gavin’s second in command left little room for even the pretense of love.

  Such duties awaited him now. First he was to meet with Benson, the third in command for a report on the south half of the territory, then together they were to round up all of the vampires of Rochester for a Gathering.

  A scent drifted on the night breeze, making Justus’s lips curve upward with grim satisfaction. Now it was time for one of his most important duties. With lightning speed, he dashed behind Chatteron House to find a rogue vampire lurking behind the stables.

  The rogue took one look at him and his eyes went wide as saucers. He turned to run and Justus seized him by the collar of his ragged coat.

  “I- I’m lost, Governor!” the vampire stuttered, writhing like a worm on a hook.

  “If that were the case, you’d have asked me for directions instead of trying to run,” Justus replied with a smirk. “All the same, I’ll be glad to escort you to snug accommodations during your visit. That is, unless you have a writ of passage from your lord?”

  The rogue struggled harder. “Piss off, you limey ginger!”

  Justus cuffed his captive so hard the vampire spat blood. “That’s enough talk until Lord Darkwood comes to question you.”

  As swift as possible, he dragged the rogue to Darkwood Manor, and after making sure the human servants were otherwise occupied, tossed him in a cell in the hidden dungeons. The rogue’s curses echoed behind Justus as he made his way out of the dungeons.

  Blasted curs. Rapists, thieves, and careless ones who broke the law and killed humans, rogues were vampires exiled by their lords when a death sentence seemed too harsh, or perhaps they simply lacked the stones to execute a criminal. The rogue could then become a citizen of another vampire’s territory if they applied for lenience. However, such was rarely the case. Most Lord Vampires killed rogues on sight. Some threw them off their property to be killed by another. Lord Darkwood was especially prone to killing rogues, though at least he gave each one he captured a fair trial first. Only one had become a Rochester vampire as Gavin discovered that the vampire had only been exiled for courting a vampire in another territory without permission. Three he chased off when he was in a merciful mood. The other scores had been beheaded and taken out to the garden for the sun to burn away their remains.

  Justus shook his head. The system and reasoning in dealing with rogues was impractical and often hypocritical. Far too many lords were opting for exile rather than execution. It seemed there were more rogue vampires about every night. Were Lord Vampires growing so lax they were failing to give death when deserved? Or were all vampires to blame for not being more careful on who they Changed? It was only a matter of time before efforts to prevent rogues from banding together would fail and someone would have an insurrection on their hands.

  By the time he met up with Benson, the vampire was pacing around the oak tree in front of his house. “Late again,” Darkwood’s third in command snapped. “Don’t expect me to keep that from His Lordship.”

  “Oh, don’t trouble yourself, I’ll tell him,” Justus said airily as he tightened his grip on his struggling captive. “You see, I’d caught a rogue on my way to meet you.”

  Benson stepped back, flushing in embarrassment. “I see. Well, very good. His Lordship will be pleased.” The corner of his mouth twisted in irritation. “Blast it, how do you do it? I swear, you’ve captured more rogues than Darkwood and I combined.”

  “In this case, it was sheer luck. The sod was creeping around behind the Chatterton stables. I merely caught him on my way out. Convenient, but hardly anything admirable on my part.” Justus shrugged. “In other cases, perhaps I merely get lucky then as well.”

  Grudging respect glimmered in Benson’s eyes. Taciturn and steadfast, he and Justus always clashed, although if it came down to it, each would die for the other. “See that you maintain that luck. Now, how fares the southern half of the territory?”

  “Fairly quiet aside, aside from the rogue I captured.”

  Benson nodded in satisfaction at the thought of order. “Good. Things in the north region are peaceful as well, though I did have to have a word with one of the younglings about being more discreet in the hunt.”

  Justus held back a yawn. It wasn’t that he wanted trouble in Rochester, exactly. But did things have to be so dull around here? Maybe he’d ask Gavin to send him on another mission to spy on his neighboring Lord Vampires. London would be good. The Duke of Burnrath, the current Lord of the City, always merited some scrutiny.

  “Well, let us fetch our people for the Gathering,” Benson finished and started down the dirt path illuminated with dappled moonlight.

  As they walked, Justus attempted to strike up a conversation. “I just finished reading The Monk. Quite salacious. Have you read that one?”

  Benson’s lips curled down with a touch of derision. “I am far too busy to read.”

  Justus sighed and fell silent. Perhaps he should loan the book to Miss Mead. On second thought, to give a maid such a torrid novel would likely cause a scandal.

  Benson didn’t talk much as they rounded up the Rochester vampires, instructing them to go to the Gathering place, beneath the
ruins of Rochester Castle.

  Gavin awaited them, pacing on the dais, his hands behind his back. Benson and Justus joined him on either side, facing the incoming vampires with mild, yet stern gazes.

  Once the chamber was full, Gavin raised his arms for silence and greeted the assembly. “Vampires of Rochester, it brings me joy to see all of you present and well…”

  Although Gavin was called “Ruthless Rochester” under the breaths of the common vampires, he truly did care for his people. It was just that he had little tolerance for disobedience. If one were to be honest, no tolerance at all. Justus knew that Gavin had been brought up in the monastary, to train for the priesthood, and that something had happened to him to make him not only abandon that course, but had also made him overly harsh.

  This Gathering was more sedate than others as no one had stepped out of line and thus no punishments were to be meted out.

  Instead, Gavin related what information he thought his people should know, and then in turn listened to news and grievances from them.

  Dull. Even his report of the rogue in the dungeon did nothing to liven up the evening.

  “And to close this meeting, I am pleased to announce that it is Alexander’s fifty-fourth year as a vampire. Alex has been a Rochester vampire since the night he was Changed by Susan and….”

  As Gavin went on about Alex’s accomplishments, Justus’s attention wandered. Against his better logic, his thoughts strayed to Miss Bethany Mead. Her inquisitiveness, her intriguing air of mixed innocence and wisdom. How her wide blue eyes had lit up with joy at the sight of a dusty old book. How her succulent curves had been emphasized by her pretty muslin dress.

  Applause rang out for the guest of honor, and Justus joined in a moment too late, earning a black look from Gavin. Everyone made their way to the banquet hall, where tiny cakes and miniscule glasses of champagne were spread across the large table, portioned so as not to impact a vampire’s digestion. Gavin nudged Justus with his elbow.