Bitten By the Earl (Lords of the Night Book Two)

by Sandra Sookoo

  Felicity lowered her voice and leaned closer to Elizabeth. “She doesn’t mind his… tendencies?” Her brother clashed with his dark, cursed side, which was a dragon shifter, so she had reason to ask. It was always uppermost in their minds.

  “Apparently not. Alice is the sweetest thing, and I love having a sister.” Elizabeth’s grin faded at the edges. “I believe she keeps his wolf in check. He still runs as the animal, but he’s never gone for days anymore. And at times, Alice walks with him.” How did she reconcile herself to having a husband who wasn’t fully human, who would always bend before those beastly urges?

  Her friend’s eyes rounded as they both sat on the crushed velvet of the chair’s cushions, their skirts draped about them—emerald green silk for Felicity and ruby satin for Elizabeth, for they both loved bold colors, and it was Christmastide after all. “Will he attempt to break the curse?” The full moon this month was the last chance any of the cursed lords had for breaking the curse; otherwise, they’d need to wait five years before the next opportunity arose.

  “Perhaps, if he hasn’t already while on his wedding trip,” Elizabeth murmured. She’d been privy to his struggle with his wolf half, and wouldn’t deny being surprised that he’d opted to live beneath the curse even though he loved Alice to distraction and she him. “That is entirely his decision. Mayhap they have both come to terms with what he is and it doesn’t matter now.”

  In such a way, Alice was a much stronger woman than she. I don’t know that I could do it, could forgive such a thing, live with what the curse entails. Oh God, the horror of the bite…

  “Lucky girl,” Felicity said with a fair amount of breathless regret in her voice. “The duke is dreamy and so handsome. I might have tried to snare him at one point.”

  “Oh, stop.” She rolled her eyes. “I will not sit here while you moon about my brother.” But she laughed. “He and Alice come home tomorrow.” She stifled a sigh, for she didn’t begrudge Donovan his wife. Alice was everything sweet and darling, but it had been just the two of them for so long that she missed her brother and sharing confidences. Now things would change, in good ways, of course, but it might grow… awkward around the newlyweds.

  “You will continue to serve as Her Grace’s social secretary and assistant?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “For a bit, until she is settled.”

  “His duchess, is she wonderful?”

  “Oh, yes. There is absolutely no guile in her. She’ll fit the role of duchess well. Already she has the command and courage required. The staff adores her.” Elizabeth stifled a sigh. Would acting as secretary and personal assistant be her lot in life? She didn’t mind, for Alice was truly appreciative and she was blind so would always need the help, but surely there was something else destiny had in mind over and above that. “Perhaps the bustle of Christmastide will have me feeling more the thing.” Above all, she dreaded the holiday season, for it was much about gathering with family and being cozy in romance.

  And it drives home the point that I am not matched, and probably will never be.

  The vestiges of her brother’s curse were far-reaching despite her efforts to cloak them all in respectability.

  “Mayhap you’ll stumble upon a holiday romance?” Felicity asked with a gleam in her eye. “How lovely that would be.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “I am not of a mind for love.”

  “You are a terrible liar, Elizabeth,” her friend cautioned with a laugh. “You have long wished for the fairytale.”

  “Perhaps my tastes have changed,” she responded in a quiet voice. For in what sane fairytale was the hero a monster?

  The ladies lapsed into silence as a new dance began. The floor filled with couples moving in the intricate patterns while laughter and conversation wafted in the air.

  Felicity sucked in a breath and clutched Elizabeth’s arm. “Look there,” she hissed, excitement infusing that whispered command. “Lord Rockingham cannot keep his gaze from you. He’s been staring since we sat down.”

  “Don’t be a goose, Felicity. The marquess would never look twice at me, and you know why.” Anyone so high on the instep of the ton—especially anyone normal—wouldn’t give her the time of day due to her brother’s history and the rumors surrounding him. It had been such for years. She’d come to this ball due to being friends with the ladies of honor.

  “That may be true, yet so is the fact that he is interested.” Felicity squeezed her arm. “Even you must admit the marquess is more handsome than any man has a right to be.” She giggled. “In a world full of balding men, and aging lords with paunches, he is refreshing; the perfect fairytale man.”

  Despite the urge to deny the notice, Elizabeth looked to see which man had caught her friend’s attention. Across the ballroom where colorful skirts swished and flared, her gaze met the startling blue eyes of the marquess. Even at this distance, their clear, lake-blue hue beckoned. When he lifted a blond eyebrow in question, a furious blush blazed in her cheeks and she glanced away. There was no doubt he was pleasing in face and form, and that brief glance had her heartbeat accelerating.

  It troubled her that she cared, but his hair was too golden and his shoulders too broad and his chest too barrel-like. In short, the marquess wasn’t him.

  No one would be.

  And truly, I don’t want a fairytale.

  Why couldn’t she reconcile herself with that fact that the earl was not the one for her and move on? It had been eleven years. Yes, she was a spinster in ton terms, but as the sister of a duke, such a trivial thing as age could be overlooked in the face of her dowry. Elizabeth didn’t give a jot for any of that. She still believed in love for love’s sake. However, Rafe hadn’t been interested in love and romance all those years ago—he’d only wanted blood. What made her think anything had changed now? He was certainly still the vampire. She only had to remember those fangs, the red ring around his irises, the pain when those razor-sharp teeth had punctured her skin to remember exactly what he was.

  But that didn’t remove the ache for something she hoped he’d be.

  Felicity grinned. A knowing twinkle appeared in her eyes. “Perhaps it’s time you turn your regard to courtship now that your brother is married. I’m certain your new sister-in-law would interview for your replacement if you’d but ask and let yourself live.”

  “Perhaps…” Perhaps I don’t know how to live anymore, for ever since Rafe and I did… things, I haven’t been able to think of any other man in that capacity. None of them had managed to intrigue her like he did. Elizabeth glanced across the dance floor to where Lord Rockingham stood, still watching her. This time he casually lifted his champagne flute in salute. That couldn’t have been an accident. An unaccountable thrill danced down her spine and she sat up straighter. It had been a long time indeed since a man had paid her any mind. “He’s handsome enough, but I’m not certain…”

  Even if he was interested, her past rendered her soiled and ruined and well beyond the touch of such a lofty gentleman as the marquess.

  All because of him.

  “Come now,” Felicity continued. “You haven’t let any man close for ever so long.”

  “There’s a reason for that.” She’d never shared that horrible night with anyone. Not Felicity. Not Donovan. Not anyone. She’d kept the secret that one other knew—the man who’d taken her innocence. I cannot come to a husband as a proper bride should, especially the daughter of a duke. That had been stolen years before, when she’d been a young lady of twenty with stars in her eyes for her brother’s best friend.

  He’d taken advantage but left a horrible, sinful longing behind. What would Donovan think if she ever told him? She stifled a snort. Her brother would lock her in a room or consign her to a convent, so great was his dictate that she never have anything to do with a cursed lord.

  Even if a man managed to overlook such a thing as her sullied and complicated past, would she want him to when she couldn’t go through one day without thinking of Rafe and how his body h
ad felt against hers, how his kiss had set her aflame, how the memories of such even now had heat bouncing through her veins?

  “Men can be horrible, true,” Felicity continued, hugely misunderstanding Elizabeth’s reticence. “But the marquess’ reputation is sterling. He has never landed in scandalbroth and doesn’t do anything to invite gossip. I’ll wager he will treat you with respect.”

  So had another… until he hadn’t.

  Felicity patted her hand. “Let Lord Rockingham dance with you.” She tapped the card hanging by a ribbon at Elizabeth’s wrist. “You have no one waiting—you never do—and it is merely a dance not a life sentence.”

  “Drat it,” Elizabeth muttered, and with a forceful yank, she wrenched the card from her person and then dropped it onto the empty chair beside her. “I don’t care for such things.”

  “You need to enjoy yourself,” Felicity cautioned with a small frown. “We all do, and if we have to make ourselves bolder to do it because of what our brothers are, so be it. If our places were reversed, I’d sprint across the floor to talk with that man.”

  You are not me, nor do you know why I do what I do.

  Despite the folly of it, Elizabeth threw a glance about the room, searching for a gentleman with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes that had a tendency to have a faint red ring around the irises when he was under the influence of high emotion. She blew out a breath. Of course the Earl of Devon wouldn’t attend, for he only saw her in passing now, and the last time had been when Donovan had been tried to repair the shattered pieces of his marriage. And what would she say to him anyway?

  Over the years, she and Rafe had become wary friends out of necessity due to his friendship with her brother, but she could never forget. She’d purposefully kept him at arm’s length, perhaps due to her fear of him as well as the fear of her own desires. Yet, neither could she forgive—

  “Oh, he’s coming over!” Felicity whispered and once more shook Elizabeth’s arm.

  Her pulse kicked up as she started, assuming her friend meant the earl. Then her stomach flipped, for it wasn’t Rafe at all, but the marquess who approached their position with determination sparkling in his eyes. When Felicity bounced to her feet, Elizabeth clutched at her hand. “Don’t you dare leave me,” she hissed, but her traitorous friend pulled away. She fled the area as if her skirts were on fire.

  Bloody hell.

  The Marquess of Rockingham stood before her, his lips tipped in a smile, his shoulders blocking her view of the dance floor. “Lady Elizabeth.”

  “My lord.” Not having any other recourse, she stood and offered him her gloved hand, which he took and carried it to his lips, placing a brief kiss on her middle knuckle. Rafe used to do that, back when he’d made an effort at courting, before he’d broken her trust and given her nightmares instead.

  “I am glad you attend tonight,” the peer continued, his deep baritone rumbling in her chest. He held her hand a few seconds longer than proper. On the dance floor, the current set winded down and polite clapping ensued.

  “Thank you.” At the last moment, she tamped down the urge to roll her eyes. Stop being such a goose, Lizzy. “Uh, I mean the ladies Dorcas and Letty are acquaintances of mine. I wished to give them my support.”

  “Indeed.” He said nothing else.

  Elizabeth blew out a breath that ruffled the curls on her forehead. “Why are you here tonight, my lord?”

  “Suffice it to say I’m intrigued with the viscount.” And then he smiled, and it was devastating to her insides. Peculiar, indeed.

  Was he in earnest? Hard to tell. Perhaps she harbored an overdeveloped sense of protectiveness regarding her brother and his afflicted friends.

  “Oh.” Tingles swept over her skin. At one time, this man would have been her ideal for a romantic partner, the hero of the fairytales. Did she still think that? He certainly didn’t have fangs, and his attention was flattering. How long had it been since any man in the ton had sought her out? Perhaps her tireless work to convince the powers-that-be her brother wasn’t the threat the rumors said had paid off. Whatever was responsible for this boon, she couldn’t help but say a prayer of thanks. Even if she wished he were someone else entirely. “I’m not intimately acquainted with Lord Mountgarret.”

  “I have also been curious as to what club he attends, for I have seen him or your brother at White’s, Brook’s, or any of the usual haunts,” the man continued.

  There was a reason for that, but she’d never tell. His interest in the men was confusing and surprising. Did he have a nefarious purpose in mind, or was it indeed simple curiosity and the interest of expanding his circle that motivated him?

  She shrugged. “I am not privy to that information, and it isn’t appropriate conversation by half.” Yes, it was a lie, but one she needed to say out of safety.

  “Fair enough.” The marquess held out a gloved hand, recalling her attention to his face. There wasn’t anything malevolent she could see in his eyes. “I’d be honored if you would grant me this next dance.”

  “Well, I…” She couldn’t very well be rude, for she had no excuse as to why she couldn’t dance with him, especially as half the room looked on. It wasn’t every day that a gentleman with such a title singled a lady out. Yet, he wasn’t the gentleman she wished to see most of all. Don’t be daft, Lizzy. Rafe wasn’t a gentleman by any stretch of the word. If he was, he wouldn’t have done what he’d had, or he would have offered for her after he’d done it. She would have refused him soundly. There was no other choice. Then why couldn’t she banish the earl from her thoughts after all this time? Why is my life so complicated? Stifling a tiny sigh, Elizabeth nodded and slipped her fingers into his. Perhaps encouraging the marquess was just the thing she needed to blow away the blue ruin she’d clung to for far too long. “That sounds delightful.”

  All too soon, Lord Rockingham pulled her onto the parquet dance floor, and they assumed the correct position for a waltz. Once the string quartet played the opening notes, the marquess set them into motion.

  Elizabeth hadn’t danced for some months. There had been little opportunity and even less social engagement, and when her mother had died years before, her brother had had the music room permanently closed until he’d married Alice. The fact that the marquess had an excellent grasp of the steps didn’t escape her. He felt powerful as he held her with the lightest of touches, and they moved together as if they’d partnered each other for years. “You dance divinely, my lord.” It was an appropriate statement to utter while other couples swirled around them, for it was the truth.

  “Thank you. As do you, Lady Elizabeth.” As he guided her through a turn, his hand at the small of her back tightened ever so slightly.

  A tiny curl of heat unfurled in her belly. “Please, call me Elizabeth. I’m not one to stand on ceremony.”

  The smile he gave her was as polite as the rest of his bearing, but it reflected in his eyes, and she realized how tall he was, dwarfing her average height by nearly a foot. Rafe was only six inches taller than she, and he used to tuck her head beneath his chin just so…

  No! He’s part of my past, and I am moving forward. Finally.

  “Neither am I, so do please call me Oliver. Though the Watson family is rather large and sprawling, we’d confuse everyone if we demanded the use of titles when together.” When he laughed, the rich sound flowed around her like honey, and she wracked her brain to remember his relatives and their multitude of titles within the ton.

  “I will.” Suddenly shy, which wasn’t like her at all, Elizabeth fixed her gaze upon the starched folds of his cravat. A sapphire stick pin winked from those snowy depths, the stone almost the same color as his eyes. “Be certain you dance with the ladies of honor this evening. They shall dine out on that for months,” she said with a smile.

  Forever trying to manage everyone’s lives, are you, sister? The favorite admonishment of her brother rang in her ears.

  Well someone has to, was her favorite response, though the irony
wasn’t lost on her now. She knew what was best for everyone around her… except herself.

  “I absolutely will.” Then he dissolved into small talk, consisting of the weather and the social events they were both to attend. Finally, he said, “Will you remain in Town for Christmastide?”

  The muscles in her stomach clenched in both alarm and anticipation. “For this year, yes. My brother returns from his wedding trip tomorrow, and I rather doubt he’ll wish to upset the household again so soon by traveling to his country estate.”

  A chuckle emanated from her partner. He leaned closer. “I didn’t ask after your brother’s plans, Elizabeth. Though I do respect Manchester and find him intriguing enough, he is not who holds my interest.” The way he said her name sent a thrill down her spine. “I wanted to know about your plans.”

  Gentle heat stung her cheeks. For so long she’d existed in Donovan’s shadow that it was a novel idea someone took notice directly in her. “Ah, well, that’s the thing. I live with my brother, and what he desires is what occurs, so in London we shall stay.” Not that it was a bad thing. Traveling to the castle in the country over shoddy roads and in wretched weather didn’t sound appealing.

  And Rafe wouldn’t be there.

  “Yet what do you desire?” he asked in a barely-there whisper as he turned her again through the steps of the waltz.

  Someone all too wrong for me. A tremble began at the base of her spine and slid upward. Perhaps Felicity was right. She should make the attempt at settling her own life. Elizabeth raised her gaze to Oliver’s. “I desire peace and happiness.” Then she offered him a smile, which was as good as giving him an invitation.

  Would he take it? Anxiety crawled over her skin. Lud, it had been an age since she’d let herself approach the Marriage Mart. Perhaps she was out of practice.

  He said nothing as they finished the dance. Once they stood on the floor, politely clapping their appreciation, he put his head closer to hers. “I would like to call on you in the coming days, perhaps take you driving when it’s fine or accompanying you around London if the weather is foul.”