by Brooklyn Ann
A fast engagement. Bethany nodded, feeling a twinge of pity at her father’s humiliation. She looked at the clock and then out the dark window, praying that Justus would arrive soon, that her father would treat him well. That maybe they could escape all of this ugliness and run to Gretna Green to elope.
That is, if the Lord Vampire of Gretna Green would allow it.
The minutes ticked by faster, yet still Justus had yet to arrive. The servants bustled in and out of the room, refilling tea and reporting on supper. Bethany tried to tell herself that Justus was seeking his own meal as her father declared that they had waited long enough and ordered them to the dining room.
Bethany picked at her overcooked roast chicken and darted glances at the doorway, waiting for the butler to announce Justus’s arrival.
“I do not think your suitor is coming.” Her father vocalized her deepest fear. “In fact, I do not think he is a suitor at all, much less a mythical creature. I think you fabricated all of this nonsense in your head.” He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I’d been long concerned that you were descending into madness, but refused to see the truth.”
“No.” She shook her head.
Bethany’s mother patted her hand and addressed her husband. “Now, dear, she did suffer from quite a fall. Perhaps she struck her head. She’ll come to her senses soon enough.”
“I injured my knee, not my head,” Bethany retorted, looking at the clock again. It was already a quarter past ten.
“All the same, I think I will have the doctor examine you again.” Cecily gave her a pitying look. “Your father is right. You did not mention anything about Lord de Wynter until after your fall. Are you certain this wasn’t a dream, brought on by the laudanum?”
“It was no dream!” Bethany rose from the table, crying out as her knee flared in agony.
Mother took her elbow. “Darling, perhaps you should go to bed and have another dram of laudanum. Your injuries are clearly paining you.”
“No laudanum.” Bethany did not trust herself under the influence of that vile substance.
When the footman handed her the cane, she bobbed a crooked curtsy, biting back a scream of pain. “I will wait in the library.”
“She is mad.” Her father shook his head. “It runs in the female line in my family. If only you’d given me a son, Cecily.”
“Charles…” her mother pleaded.
Bethany refused to hear any more and made her way out of the dining room. With every painful step, Bethany prayed with growing desperation.
Please let him come. Please let him come.
Chapter Twelve
Justus awoke for the night with his heart pounding with excitement. Tonight he would ask Lord Wickshire for Bethany’s hand in marriage. Eager to be on his way, he rose from his bed beneath the house and selected his finest garb from his antique wardrobe.
Once dressed, he left the house, stopping only to pick a bouquet of flowers from his overgrown garden. He hurried to the village to seek his meal, not wanting his hunger to interfere with the night. As it was, finding a suitable victim, a drunk wandering down Market Lane alone, took far longer than Justus would have preferred. He looked at his watch and cursed as he saw that it was a quarter of nine.
He had to hurry if he hoped for Lord Wickshire to admit him. He did not dare acknowledge his worst fear, that Lord Wickshire would refuse his suit in the first place. For the first time, he regretted purposefully leaving his estate in disrepair to dissuade people from paying calls. He would convince Bethany’s father that despite outward appearances, he was more than capable of supporting Bethany financially.
As he neared Bethany’s home, sadness weighted his steps as he recalled that he would have to leave shortly after the betrothal contract was signed. He hoped that Gavin would at least let him remain long enough to host an engagement party. That way, everyone in Rochester would know that Bethany was his.
Either way, he vowed to make the most of every moment he and Bethany had together.
Just as he approached the manicured drive to Wickshire Hall, a heavy weight slammed into him, knocking him from his feet.
Justus growled in rage. How dare a rogue presume to attack him? To be lurking here by his love’s home? He would kill the bleeding sod!
A powerful knee dug into his back as the figure of another vampire seized his arms, pinning him. Justus roared and bucked, but it was no use as his wrists were shackled behind him. When he was hauled to his feet, Justus gasped as he recognized the vampires who’d captured him.
“Cecil? Benson?” His mind swam with confusion. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
Benson surveyed him coldly. “You are under arrest, by command of the Lord of Rochester.”
“What the hell for?” Justus demanded, wondering how this could be happening.
Benson’s frown deepened. “For telling a mortal what you are.”
Dread churned his gut. “The secret is safe with her, I swear. Rochester permitted me to Change her after we are wed. She will never tell anyone.”
Cecil spoke at last, eyes ominous. “I’m afraid she already has.”
“No,” Justus whispered, arms going slack in his restraints. “She would never.”
Benson shook his head. “She has. Their neighbor, Lord Tench told everyone. Apparently she was already betrothed to him. So I’m afraid the chit played you for an utter fool. God, how could you lose your head like that?”
All the fight went out of Justus at hearing that Bethany was betrothed. Why had she never told him?
“We’re fortunate that Tench thought nothing of the girl’s talk of vampires. He’s declared her to be a raving lunatic,” Cecil said as they led him into the woods, away from view. “Well, all of us are fortunate, but for you.”
Justus didn’t need Cecil to clarify his meaning any more than he needed to ask where they were taking him. There was only one penalty for revealing oneself to a mortal: Death.
But without Bethany, he wasn’t so certain he wanted to live anymore anyway.
When they reached Darkwood manor, Justus saw the Lord of Rochester pacing back and forth on his great front terrace.
Gavin turned and met his gaze. The mingled anger, sadness and pity in the vampire’s eyes struck Justus like a fist in the gut. “How could you do such a foolish thing? How could you betray us like that?”
“There has to have been some sort of mistake,” Justus said. “She wouldn’t have willingly revealed that information.”
“I do not give a tinker’s damn what drove the girl to open her mouth,” Gavin growled as he gestured for Cecil and Benson to drag him into the house. “The fact is that it was done.”
Darkwood Manor was empty and silent as a tomb. Rochester must have sent his elderly mortal servants to bed, so they wouldn’t intrude on this night’s business.
The Lord Vampire crossed the hall, and opened a concealed door within the wall. “Lock him in the dungeon until his trial. We have to do all we can to minimize the damage he’s caused.”
“Wait,” Justus shouted. “Gavin, we’ve been best friends for centuries. Please, listen to me!”
His former friend’s face was cold and implacable as he turned his back without a word.
Justus’s mind reeled with disbelief as Cecil and Benson dragged him down the stairs, past the cellar, and down to the dungeons that had been designed to hold the strongest vampire. Justus had thrown many a rogue into these cells. He never imagined that he’d be occupying one himself.
For a moment, he considered breaking free of Cecil and Benson’s hold, but even if he managed to, running with shackles would slow him down and Gavin was likely waiting at the top of the stairs with his sword in case of just that.
After shoving him into the corner of the cell, Cecil secured the shackles to a thick steel chain that would only be long enough for Justus to sink to the floor.
Benson met his gaze, eyes full of pity. “I wish things did not have to be this way. Maybe His Lordsh
ip will grant you mercy.”
Cecil nodded. “Of all the vampires I know, you were the last I expected to break this particular law.” His lips curved in a humorless smile. “I’d expected you to break our other rules, but never that one.”
Justus managed a half-hearted chuckle that came out more like a sob. “I understand. And know this. I bear neither of you ill will for doing your duty.”
Both vampires bowed their heads, whether in mourning or respect, he did not know. They then turned their backs and left the cell, locking the steel cage door behind them. And Justus was left alone in the darkness.
He slumped against the cold, damp stone wall and closed his eyes. Bethany couldn’t have betrayed him. He’d tasted the truth and purity of her love when he’d drank from her. Something must have happened, some sort of coercion.
Another thought came to him that somewhat lightened his heart despite his dire situation. He’d also seen nothing of a betrothal in her memories when he’d fed from her last night. She must not have known about it until today. Had the shock of her parents telling her that she’d be handed off to an old lecher stunned her so much that she’d declared she would marry a vampire instead?
No, that was still too illogical of a leap. There had to be something else that prompted such an outburst. Yet no matter how much he wracked his brain, Justus could not discern what had prompted her to reveal such a dangerous secret.
No matter, this was all his fault. He should have banished Bethany’s memory that night and not revealed the truth of his kind until they were wed. But in his foolish arrogance, he’d reveled in the joyous revelation that she loved him despite learning that he was a vampire.
Now he would die for that arrogance and Bethany would never be his after all.
Was she even now wondering where he was? Would she be heartbroken when he never arrived and miss him terribly? Or would she curse him for a faithless cad?
To further salt the wound, would she be married off to Lord Tench after all? With the man declaring her to be insane, he did not sound too keen, yet Bethany was a beauty, so he may well change his mind. Justus’s heart burned in agony at the thought of her with another man, yet he did not wish her to spend the rest of her life as a heartbroken spinster, pining away for him.
As he closed his eyes, imagining the possibilities for Bethany’s future, a horrifying realization made him jerk upright in his chains.
Gavin’s words to Cecil and Benson echoed in his memory. “We have to do all we can to minimize the damage.”
“Oh God,” Justus croaked through numb lips. What if he meant to harm Bethany?
Chapter Thirteen
Bethany awoke with a burning cramp in her neck. Daylight streamed through the library windows, testifying the worst. The breath in her lungs froze as if full of January air. Last night hadn’t been a nightmare. Justus hadn’t come. She’d given the butler fervent instructions to notify her immediately of his arrival and had waited, facing the clock with a book on her lap that she’d never even attempted to read. Had he changed his mind? She didn’t think so. Father said that Lord Tench had spread the word far and wide that she’d said Lord de Wynter was a vampire. Either Justus was now angry with her for betraying him, or worse. He’d told her that revealing his secret to a human was forbidden. Had his Lord Vampire punished him?
She shook her head, refusing to entertain the worst. Surely Justus’s Lord would understand when Justus explained that he would Change Bethany. But the morning light cast a pall over her heart, refusing to abate her terror.
She must have fallen asleep after two in the morning. Rubbing her neck, she reached for her cane and rose to her feet, hissing as her swollen knee protested. If the pain continued with such severity, she may have to relent and take some laudanum.
Thumps and grating sounds along with rapid footsteps reached her ears then. It sounded like her house was occupied with an army.
Hobbling out of the library, Bethany saw a pair of footmen hauling a trunk down the hall. Then another passed her, carrying her mother’s traveling valise.
She stared in stunned disbelief. Her father had meant his words when he’d said they’d be leaving the county. Panic hammered her lungs, making her stays impossibly tight as her mother’s voice reached her ears.
“My lord husband, must we go through with this?” The rife pleading in Cecily’s tone made Bethany pause.
“We have no choice.” Her father responded coldly. “We are ruined here. If I am to have any hope in recovering my reputation and political position, we must leave and erase all traces of scandal immediately. I will not allow softness to destroy me, like it did my father.”
Bethany leaned against the door frame, feeling ill. Father truly thought her mad and was ready to uproot the whole family back to London today, with nary a chance for her to explain herself or send word to Justus.
Panic fluttered in her stomach. How would Justus be able to find her then? Or would he even want to find her after she’d blurted out his secret and endangered him and his people?
Tears prickled the back of her eyes and she blinked them away. He had to forgive her. He had to still love her.
Again, fear seized her heart in an icy grip. What if Lord Tench sent men to kill him? Or had the Lord Vampire of Rochester denied his request and ordered him to stay away from her? And how was she supposed to find out if they were leaving?
Her mother swept into the hall, taking Bethany’s elbow. Her face was pale and her eyes darted away from Bethany’s face. “Let us have breakfast before we depart.”
“Must we return to London so soon?” Bethany was unable to hide the desperation in her voice.
Lady Wickshire’s face flushed, and for a moment it looked as if she would say something, but then her gaze returned to the floor. “We must leave the area to save your father’s reputation. Out of sight, out of mind.” Her lips thinned grimly at the last.
Father was not in the dining room, and for that Bethany breathed a sigh of relief. She did not know how she would hold her temper and refrain from castigating him for ruining everything.
Her stomach revolted at the plate of scones and sausage set before her, but her mother would not stop harping until she managed a few bites. A maid set a cup of tea in front of her with a nervous look as if expecting Bethany to erupt into hysterics as she had last night.
Mother smiled tightly. “It’s extra honeyed, just how you like it.”
Bethany took a sip and grimaced. Beneath the almost cloying overpowering taste of honey was bitterness. She set the cup down. “I think this was steeped for far too long.”
Instead of apologizing and taking the cup away, the maid looked at her mother as if in mute inquiry.
Mother’s frown deepened. “The servants are overburdened with preparations for our journey. They do not have the time to make another cup. Now drink it.”
Guilt drowned her at the thought of inconveniencing the overworked servants further. They must be terribly burdened for Cecily to take notice of their plight. Bethany lifted the cup and forced the bittersweet liquid down as fast as she could, trying not to show her distaste.
When the cup was empty, Mother nodded to a footman, who passed Bethany her cane.
“Your trunks have already been loaded,” Cecily said. “Let’s get you into the carriage. Your father wishes to depart on the hour.”
The footman remained at her side as they walked from the house. Bethany was grateful for that fact as a sudden wave of dizziness nearly made her stumble on her way into the carriage. If not for his steadying hand, she doubtless would have toppled onto the cobblestones.
Mother had not been exaggerating when she spoke of Father’s urgency. He already waited in the bench across from her and Mother and signaled the driver to be off the moment they were seated.
Bethany reached under her seat for a novel she’d stashed there and gasped as her father snatched it out of her hand. “No more reading. That is likely what put you in such a hysterical state. I knew
I should have forbidden you that nonsensical tripe in the first place.”
She frowned in wounded disbelief. No more reading? Did he mean for the journey, or ever again? How would she survive without books? Without Justus?
Before she could protest, a sensation of hazy heaviness settled over her like a wool blanket. Bethany recognized the feeling. No wonder her mother had insisted that she finish the tea that had tasted so bitter.
She whipped her head around to face her mother. “You drugged me?” Even as she spoke, her words slurred like a drunkard’s and a heavy drowsiness engulfed her like a shroud.
Cecily nodded. “It was for your own good. Your knee was clearly paining you and we have a long trip.”
Outrage made her quiver in her seat even as lethargy weighted her limbs like lead. “You… had no… right,” she murmured, sleepy from the swaying carriage.
“I’m your mother,” Cecily said, though her cheeks flushed with guilt. “I had every right.”
No longer able to hold up her head, Bethany leaned against the carriage window. Her eyes widened, despite the drowsiness from the drugs. “This isn’t the road we take home. I thought we were returning to London.”
“We are,” her father said gruffly. “You are not.”
Chapter Fourteen
Justus awoke cold and cramped, his stomach roiling with hunger. His bloodthirst hadn’t been this intense since he was a youngling. And why has he so damned cold and uncomfortable? Foreboding filled him, urging him to keep his eyes shut, but he opened them anyway— and immediately regretted doing so.
The sight of the damp stone walls and thick steel bars of Rochester’s prison cells was like a blow to the stomach, assaulting him with memories of every tragic catastrophic event that transpired last night. Being intercepted on his way to Bethany, when he’d been so close he could smell her. Cecil and Benson arresting him, saying she’d done the unthinkable. And that she was betrothed to another.