Blood Secret Page 19

  Lucy closed her eyes. That was why she did not see his hand come to her. His palm, warm and soft, settled against her skin. She felt the light scratch of his fingertips and swallowed back a moan. She was too tired to fight. Or perhaps she finally didn’t know what to fight for. She had always fought, in her own way, for her family’s safety. She had been willing to be ruined to protect her family. But now she had no idea how to beat back enemies, for she no longer knew who her enemies were.

  With eyes closed, she whispered, “I mean Jack has changed. He was always careless, but I never would have dreamed he would willingly, deliberately hurt us.”

  “I don’t know how willing he is, Lucy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I overheard him, he said he had no other choice. He might have captured you because he feared for his own life.”

  “Of course he would sacrifice mine in place of his,” she said bitterly.

  “I expect he was very afraid, love.”

  She opened his eyes. Sinjin’s image was watery, as though a shimmering wall stood between them. It was the glossy barrier of tears. She blinked fiercely. “He is a coward. And you—you could have taken James and run away. It would have been better for James. Instead you stayed.”

  “You know why, love, don’t you?”

  How soft and coaxing his voice was. Her own kind had turned against her, yet the dragon slayer had not hurt her. “I have no idea why.”

  Before he could answer, she added numbly, “I keep remembering all the things I used to do with Jack. Now that is all lost to me. It is as though he is dead—the brother I knew certainly is.”

  “Shh. I know what it is like to lose family.” His arms encircled her, his embrace firm, warm, and strong. One stubborn tear dropped out of her eye and splattered on her cheek. Oh God, she should not do this. It was madness to cry against his chest.

  But he pulled her there, with his arms around her. “It is all right to cry, Lucy. It will help.”

  Heaven help her, she trusted him.

  He insisted she eat.

  Lucy did not know how Sinjin was fighting his need to sleep. He had explained to her that it was not like human sleep: it was almost impossible for a vampire to deny; his body simply shut down during daylight. Yet somehow, Sinjin fought it to stay with her. Finally, when she had filled her stomach at his command, though she had no appetite, she became the one to make demands. She forced him to get into bed. His arm had locked around her waist at first, until she begged him to let her go to her sisters.

  “All right,” he said. “But don’t try to escape, Lucy. Your brother would likely catch you. Or a slayer could. I suspect by this point, my prince—the vampire demon that commands me—has guessed that I’m not going to do my duty. He will send someone else. Someone who will be instructed to kill us all.”

  Her stomach threatened to toss up all the food at that thought, but she gained control. She nodded, then left him. Armed with Sinjin’s directions to her sisters’ rooms, she made her way down the hall. She wore the dress he had acquired for her. It was deep blue silk, and surprisingly demure, with a rounded neckline that came high on her bosom.

  Lucy moved down the hallway as quietly as she could. Carpeting absorbed her footfalls. It seemed silly but she imagined there were women resting behind the various closed doors and she ... didn’t want to disturb them. Then she reached a gallery—an open curve of the hallway, framed with wrought-iron railing, and from it she could see down into the foyer.

  She’d always thought brothels were active at night. Apparently, they were very busy during the afternoon. Two gentlemen stepped into the foyer, admitted by a footman in powdered wig and immaculate scarlet livery. Each doffed his hat at the same time, revealing identical curls of white-blond. Two women sashayed out to the gentleman, their full bosoms jiggling in low-cut dresses. Both men grinned, showing dimples in the exact same place on their right cheeks and flashing matching blue eyes. Twins. Remarkably handsome twins. The men were perhaps two-and-twenty, slender and broad-shouldered.

  Lucy squinted, trying to look at the teeth as the men spoke and laughed. No fangs. They looked normal. Ordinary. Not vampires.

  Then she blinked. One of the blond gentlemen had bent to his lady’s breasts and was licking and suckling them, leaving damp marks on her pink silk dress. The other had pressed his woman to the wall and was sliding his hands up her skirts.

  A plump woman waddled forward. Diamonds glinted on her large expanse of bosom, and she had a rounded stomach and generous hips, obvious beneath her filmy cream silk gown. Her gray hair was piled on her head. Withdrawing a fan, she sharply tapped the shoulder of the man suckling the woman’s breasts. He straightened abruptly, blushed, and gave an apologetic bow. He called something to the other man, who removed his hand, let the girl’s skirts fall. Both ladies grasped their gentlemen by the wrists and towed them down the hall.

  What had she been doing? She’d intended to find her sisters, yet something had compelled her to watch the scene.

  Suddenly she realized the girls had been smiling. They had looked delighted to receive the ... gentlemen callers.

  The door opened to admit more men—in the space of a few minutes, five came through the door, one at a time, and each man went off with a girl. It happened so swiftly, it seemed the women knew to expect the men. A great number of gentlemen, it appeared, liked to seek pleasure in the afternoon.

  Lucy’s cheeks were warm with a blush. She had to stop gawking and find her sisters. Turning abruptly, she rushed down the corridor. The private rooms were at the back, but she must have made a mistake—she followed four twisting, twining corridors, and she had no idea what would be the “back” of the house. The brothel must be made up of several houses joined together. Either that or it was an enormous mansion.

  Finally she found a door at the end of a hallway, and there was nowhere left to turn. This had to be it. She turned the knob and eased the door open.

  Goodness. She glimpsed a woman, nude, bent over at the waist. A man’s erection was rhythmically disappearing in the woman’s mouth as her lips bobbed up and down on it. And a man was thrusting into her from behind.

  Two men. One woman. Lucy was stunned. For a moment, she couldn’t move and she stared as the man’s hard stomach collided with the woman’s generous bottom. Then both men turned at once and saw her. Both smiled. One crooked his finger in invitation.

  She retreated, pushed the door closed, and fled.

  Now her face was flaming. Even after all the naughty things she’d done with Sinjin, she wasn’t able to see other people do it and not run in panic.

  She rushed back the way she came. At the end of the hallway, she turned to the right—certain she had come from the left. In seconds, she was hopelessly confused.

  Doors had been left ajar here, and erotic scenes were taking place in each room. Lucy tried to walk without looking, but she couldn’t seem to stop taking peeks.

  A woman bound hand and foot, writhed on the carpet while a gentleman licked her pussy. In another, a man stroked his large erection while one woman slid an enormous ivory wand in and out of another woman’s bottom. Then she saw a group of four all making love together, in a laughing tangle of arms and legs.

  In this place, sex was supposed to be a commodity, bought and sold. Yet each activity she had seen involved delighted participants. She knew she should not look, but it fascinated her.

  Was nothing as it seemed? She had thought brothels would be terrible places, the women hurt and unhappy. She had thought dragon slayers were dangerous. Thought brothers should care about their families. And she had thought she must try to be proper, like a normal English lady. She had thought she could be proper, if she simply tried hard enough.

  But all of those things she had thought had been wrong.

  Then she saw one scene through the door that made her stop in shock.

  A woman was moaning, obviously in pleasure, and a man was drinking from her neck.

  Li
ke her and Sinjin. Her quim ached at the remembered ecstasy of this.

  A throat cleared and she squeaked in shock. “Lady Lucinda?”

  She whirled to find a servant standing behind her, an elderly man with a completely impassive expression. She was about to ask him to take her to her sisters when he announced, “Mrs. Simpson wishes to speak to you.”

  “Mrs. Simpson?” she echoed, mystified.

  “The owner of this establishment.”

  The madam. Lucy felt her eyes widen. But then, she was a guest in the house. It made sense, didn’t it, that the madam would wish to see her? She had spoken to a madam before, when she had been searching for Jack. She had spoken to the woman with Sinjin.

  Perhaps, Lucy thought wryly, she was going to have to forget all the things she had learned from mortal society, all those ways she had tried to behave like a proper lady. For being a dragon trumped it all, didn’t it?

  “All right. But I was searching for my sisters. Would you take me there afterward?”

  “Indeed, Lady Lucinda.”

  Lucy expected the madam would prove to be the woman with the gray coiffure, with the enormous spray of diamonds. What she had not expected was to be led to a very fashionable and tastefully appointed drawing room. Nor had she imagined she would discover a thin young girl painstakingly tapping the keys of a pianoforte.

  The madam, Mrs. Simpson, rose and clapped her hands. “That is enough for today, Rosemary. You may return to your duties now.”

  The girl curtsied, then hurried out. Lucy saw the girl was older than she had thought—Rosemary was definitely a young woman. Duties. She stared after the young girl, watching her graceful steps, measuring her age against her sisters. If this young woman had “duties,” it must mean she—

  “My ward, who is like a daughter to me,” the madam said, as if she could glimpse thoughts. “The work I refer to is the account books. Rosemary has a remarkable head for figures and I would trust my finances to no one but my family.”

  The words trust and family brought an odd sensation to Lucy’s stomach.

  “Do you not agree?”

  Lucy studied the madam’s face. She wore a mild, agreeable expression, but she possessed sharp, intelligent gray eyes. Her lashes had been darkened, and kohl encircled her eyes to make them appear very large.

  “I agree that women should be well versed in finances,” Lucy said, though to her own ears, her voice sounded rigid and tight. “It is fortunate you can trust her. But just because a person is a member of a family ... it does not mean they are definitely loyal.”

  “I agree. That is quite true.” The madam waved toward a small table. A silver tray sat there, adorned with a gilt-rimmed teapot and two cups and saucers. “Now, you must have a seat so we can talk. Greystone spoke of your troubles, my dear.”

  “Sin—the duke spoke to you?” She crossed her arms over her chest, fighting for pride, though she supposed she looked to be shielding herself. “About what troubles?”

  The madam wore cream silk gloves. She tapped her index finger. “Your brother’s debts.” Then the next finger, to count the next trouble. “His nefarious plans for you.” More fingers. “Your poverty. The loss of your father. The threats to your life. Your worry over the duke’s poor nephew.”

  “He told you ...” Lucy stared. “Everything?” It was an idiotic question. How could the woman know if she knew everything or not? But the madam merely sat, then poured tea, filling two cups close to the brim. After that, Mrs. Simpson withdrew a flask from her skirts and poured a generous tot in the cup. Balancing cup upon saucer, she held it up.

  “You should take this, my dear. It will calm your nerves.”

  Lucy took the cup but she carefully set it down. “At this point, I do not believe anything could possibly do that.”

  “Keeping your hands busy will help. You will see.” Mrs. Simpson took a healthy swallow, and the bite of brandy filled the air. Holding her cup, the madam patted Lucy’s knee. “My dear, I wish to assure you that you can remain in this house as long as you wish.”

  Another thought struck. Payment. Heavens, she had not even thought about that. Even if Jack had not been draining their money, she had no access to anything other than her modest allowance. “Thank you. His Grace did not mention what the cost is—”

  “Of course not, for he has taken it on himself.”

  “He cannot!” Lucy gasped.

  “Of course he can. He brought you here when you were unconscious. I assume it was quite a surprise to you to wake up in one of my bedchambers, with no memory of how you got here. I expect he did not ask you, or even tell you about his plan. He just did it. Thus, he should bear the expense. Besides, that is what men are for.”

  But he should not. They did not have that kind of ... arrangement, or relationship? Lucy could not think of an appropriate word. She did not know what was between them. She had agreed to be his lover for a fortnight, but that was for debts, and the agreement must be meaningless now.

  The woman’s friendliness was disarming—other than Sinjin, Lucy had no one to confide to anymore. She wouldn’t tell truthful things to her sisters; her duty was to reassure them. She had never really been able to talk to Jack. He would claim to be bored, or he would simply not listen. Even if he did, her admonitions never seemed to sink into his head.

  “You may ask me anything,” the madam said. “For I suspect the duke did not tell you everything. In fact, it appears he told you little at all.”

  She frowned. “You cannot read my mind, can you?”

  “No. But I can read your eyes, my dear. I can see questions flitting through them. I can see worry. Perhaps I can help you with some answers.”

  So tempting, but was she being lured into making a terrible mistake? On the other hand, she could possibly learn things, things Sinjin wouldn’t tell her. Did she think he would deliberately lie or keep information from her?

  She didn’t know ... she didn’t yet know. “The duke told me this is a sanctuary for vampires,” Lucy said carefully. “What does that mean?”

  “Yes, that is true.” Mrs. Simpson smiled. “It is a sanctuary for you and your sisters.”

  “Do you think I am a vampire?”

  “No, dear. I do know that you are a dragon. I had you brought to see me for another reason, Lady Lucinda. I suspect Greystone did not tell you very much about your brother this morning. He would not have wanted to trouble you. However, I know men never give women credit for the strength we obviously possess in spades. I felt it would be better for you to know the truth.”

  When women said something like that, like “it would be better for you to know the truth,” Lucy was unnerved. Sometimes women were not always honest—a young lady had said that to her to try to drive her away from a particular gentlemen. Of course, the lady had not needed to waste her breath—Lucy had known she could not fall in love with a normal gentleman. “What did the duke tell you that he did not tell me?” It was an odd way to ask the question, but she knew Mrs. Simpson would understand.

  “While you slept, Greystone spoke with other dragon slayers who were here. He questioned them about your brother. You see, Greystone is in service to a demon that commands the dragon slayers. This man is an immortal and is many hundreds of years old.”

  “He commands Sin—I mean, the duke.”

  “Yes. He turned Greystone into a vampire. The duke is in his service for eternity. If the duke disobeys his orders, he would be destroyed. That is the vow all of the vampire dragon slayers make—service for eternity.”

  Her stomach dropped. Sinjin had promised he would not hurt her but how could he not, if he was sworn to slay dragons forever? “Why ... why would Sinjin want to do this?” she whispered.

  “I see he has explained nothing about himself. Why does any man make such a drastic choice?”

  Lucy shook her head. She had no idea.

  “For revenge.”

  “Revenge?” she echoed, and she waited, barely able to draw breath. She waited f
or more, but the madam lifted her tea to her lips and sipped. Revenge. Why would a man become a dragon slayer for revenge? It had to mean that dragons had hurt him once. Or dragons had taken someone he loved ...

  “What was it?” she whispered. “What did my kind take from him?”

  The clink of cup and saucer made Lucy flinch as though someone had fired a pistol.

  “His family,” the madam said coolly. “Each member of his family except his eldest sister. He lost his father and mother, his younger brother, his two littlest sisters.”

  “Oh. Oh God.” Lucy’s hands went to her mouth. Imagined scenes rushed through her mind. Father had paintings ... paintings of battles between dragons and slayers. He had kept them hidden, but once she had found some. Pictures that showed dragons attacking villages, goring people with their claws and sharp wings, breathing fire. Father had told her such things were not real, that dragons were peaceful, that they had been painted for the slayers to justify the reason for having men to hunt dragons. But what if it were true ... what if that had been what had happened to his family?

  Mrs. Simpson gently patted Lucy’s knee. “Now you understand what a struggle it has been for him to care so deeply for you. It is probably why he has not told you about your brother.”

  “What about my brother? Please tell me. Stop hinting at horrible things, and tell me.”

  “Your brother is being controlled by the prince.”

  That made no sense. “By Prinny?” What on earth would the Prince Regent have to do with this?

  “No, by the demon who commands the dragon slayers. He is called ‘the prince.’ ”

  “My brother would not go to the prince of slayers—” Lucy began to protest, but the teacup was pushed back into her hands.

  “Greystone fears your brother made a trade: his life in return for you. The duke fears your brother was going to give you to the prince, and in payment, your brother’s life would be spared.”