“Have you come to warn me not to marry Miss Belltree as well?” Marcus asked.
Jonathan walked over to the fireplace and picked up a cigar from a box on the mantel, which he twirled in his fingers. “Certainly not. If you want to chain yourself to a woman and face questions as to why you never age or venture out during the day, I won’t stop you.” Then he turned, still flipping the cigar. “Marcus is the eldest, Cordon. It’s not our place to tell him what to do.”
“He is making a mistake,” Cordon said, in a tight voice.
Jonathan lifted one eyebrow. “You’ve got that right. He should be out enjoying his last hours as a bachelor, not sitting here chatting.”
Cordon snatched the cigar out of Jonathan’s hands. “Will you takenothing seriously?”
Marcus edged between the two vampires and shoved them apart. “Enough.”
Their problem was a lack of structure. His absence in their daily lives meant there was no dominant vampire in the hierarchy. Without consistent orders, their bickering would escalate to a power struggle that one of them would not survive. He had to redirect their energy to more productive efforts.
He clasped Cordon’s shoulder. “I will not jeopardize the safety of the nest without proof. If you believe the hunters have returned, then bring me evidence.”
His brother dipped his head. “As you command.”
“As for you, Jonathan,” Marcus said. “Observe my guests and inform me if you notice anything suspicious.” Then he waved a hand, and both brothers vanished. Not a moment too soon, as their squabbling had become tiresome. He was too nervous about his upcoming nuptials to be settling conflicts, even if it made him feel rather nostalgic for when they had all lived together in Paris. He could have that again, if only he could find a way to manage his attacks. Now that Winifred had arrived to assist him, he would have a second pair of hands to help with his experiments.
Winifred.
Months of anticipation and she was finally within reach.
According to his duty as host, he should have greeted his visitors at the door as they’d arrived, but he feared if he faced them when his nerves were so rattled, he would suffer another attack.
Meeting Winifred alone, however, might be manageable.
His valet would be irritated by the further delay in preparing for the ceremony, but Marcus could no longer wait. He ran down the tower steps and then along the hall until he reached the room his housekeeper had assigned to her. But when he lifted his fist, he heard a voice. Instead of knocking, he ducked into the adjoining room and moved the dusty bookshelf to reveal a secret passageway that ranparallel to several of the rooms on the floor. He had not intended to spy, but he could not resist the urge to see her, if only for a moment.
He squeezed through the narrow, cobwebby space until he’d reached a peephole, then peered through and sucked in a breath.
She was standing directly in front of him.
His heart fluttered in his chest. She had the exact uncontrollable, brown, curly hair he’d imagined, tucked into a braid that looked ready to burst apart at any moment, and wide, brown eyes framed by thick eyelashes hidden behind wire-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose.
He’d expected her to be with a lady’s maid, but she was alone. Her slim figure was draped in a loose-fitting cream silk dressing robe and a long, white dress lay draped over the length of her bed, along with a pair of white slippers and a sheer veil.
“Oh, Marcus,” she said.
He startled, smacking his shin against the wall. Hearing her say his given name in such a breathy voice made his skin erupt in gooseflesh.
She was thinking about him.
Then she walked back to the bed, sat down, and let out a heart-wrenching sob.
The posture stabbed at Marcus’s heart. She looked so vulnerable. Terrified. And it was all his fault. He reached for the clasp to open the wall when there was a knock at her door. She wiped her tears away with a handkerchief she’d pulled out of her sleeve. “Come in.”
An older woman wearing an elaborate, light-green gown with wide, puffed shoulders and a cinched waist entered. She shared Winifred’s dark hair and large, brown eyes, which could only have meant she was Mrs. Belltree.
“Terribly rude of your new husband not to greet us,” Mrs. Belltree said. Instead of comforting her daughter, she swept across the room and scrutinized Winifred’s wedding dress. “And this evening wedding! Such an unusual man.” Her brows drew together. “Itis almost as if he’s…”
Marcus stiffened. Had he been discovered so soon? That would be disastrous, given his inability to leave the castle.
“It’s almost as if he’s what?” Winifred asked.
Mrs. Belltree shook her head. “It matters not. The man is eccentric, but he is still an earl.”
Marcus forcibly relaxed his muscles. He was safe, for the moment.
