The drive to Blackmont Hall took much too long, in Angelica’s estimation, but she managed to appease her elder sister’s demands by giving brief, vague answers to some of her questions. The night was dark, for clouds filtered across the portion of the moon that was showing, and even the streetlamps gave off weak illumination. She could hardly wait to climb out of the carriage and find the sanctuary of her own chamber—or at least, the one that had been allotted to her during their stay with Corvindale.

The thought brought her brother to mind, and Angelica once again felt confusion and surprise at what Voss had told her about Chas.

But the peace she sought was not to be, for no sooner had they stepped into the foyer of the grand but sober house than the earl turned to her. “Angelica,” he said. “A word if I may.”

Angelica didn’t like the expression on his face. It wasn’t frightening so much as fearsome: tight and dark, as if he were about to explode with some great fury. She knew that it wasn’t directed at her, but regardless, his countenance gave her pause, made her more than a bit apprehensive. “Of course, my lord,” she said, and started down the corridor in the direction he gestured.

“If you’ll excuse us, Miss Woodmore,” he said behind her.

“But—” Maia’s voice, strained and just as furious as his expression, was cut off by the earl.

“I will speak to your sister, my ward, in private, Miss Woodmore. Perhaps just this one time, you will accede to my orders.”

“I wish to be present. I will be present,” she replied. “She may be your ward temporarily, but she is my sister. Once Mr. Bradington and I are wed—”

“Maia,” said Angelica, strangely relieved that her sister wouldn’t be there during the interrogation that was sure to come, “I will come directly to your chamber when Lord Corvindale and I are finished.”

“Angelica,” Maia said in a heartfelt whisper, “I want to be there with you.”

Angelica turned to look at her elder sister, who stood as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on her. “I’m sorry, but it will be easier if you are not. I promise I will come to you straight away.”

Maia met her eyes, and Angelica nearly gave in. Her sister seemed not only shocked and saddened but hurt, as well. And she realized at that moment that somehow, Maia felt as if she’d failed her. Somehow, she felt responsible for what had happened.

“As you like,” Maia said at last, and then turned away.

The earl gave Angelica a brief nod of gratitude and opened the door she knew led to his study. Once inside, he closed the door, but not all the way.

This brought a bit of a dark smile to her lips. “I appreciate the attention to propriety, my lord, but it’s a bit late to be worried about that now.”

His face darkened. “Take off that damned cloak and let me see what he’s done.”

Angelica shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew, but she was. The cloak fell away and the earl leaned closer so that he could see her neck.

“Anywhere else?” he asked, shifting back.

She shook her head.

“Anywhere else?” he asked again, looking both distinctly uncomfortable and darkly furious at the same time.

“No.” Then she realized what he was asking. “I am… intact.” Her cheeks heated but she ignored it.

“By Fate, I’ll kill him if your brother doesn’t first,” Corvindale said, stalking over to the massive desk. A vase holding a collection of roses and lilies sat there, and he paused, staring at it as if it were some foul object. “But I’ll make it quick instead of painful.”

“Now that you have introduced the topic…” Angelica said, gathering her courage. Corvindale was intimidating in his demeanor, and there was no reason he wouldn’t turn his anger on her if she annoyed him, but she would try.

After all, he hadn’t yet beheaded Maia.

“Is it true that Chas has gone off with a vampire woman?”

Corvindale cursed, and didn’t even attempt to hide the fact that he said something terribly improper. “What else did he tell you?”

“He told me that Cezar Mol…davi, I believe it is, wants to kill Chas and that’s why Maia and I are in danger. He wants to use us as ransom. Cezar is one of those horrid monsters, too.”

The earl had picked up the slender vase with the flowers in it and now he stalked over to the other end of the study. With a quiet, forceful clunk, he set the vase on a table near the window. “What he told you is true, surprisingly enough. Dewhurst isn’t known for his candor. What else did he tell you?”

“Little else. Is my brother truly in danger?” Despite the fact that she’d foreseen Chas’s death many years in the future, after all of the upheaval in the last days, Angelica needed reassurance. It was possible that things could change, wasn’t it?

“Your brother is more than capable of taking care of him self,” Corvindale replied in the most gentle voice she’d heard him use. Which was to say, it was neither loud, sharp, nor harsh…but it wasn’t particularly kind by normal standards. “Did Dewhurst not tell you about him?”

“What do you mean?”

The earl shook his head. “It’s best that I keep his confidence. But when next we see him—and I am confident we will—I’ll insist he tell you and Miss Woodmore the truth.”

“Dewhurst said that he might have eloped with Cezar’s sister. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—marry one of those monsters, would he?”

Corvindale’s face was a study in stonework. “I cannot say what your brother’s intention would be, but I sincerely doubt marriage is a possibility. The thought is absurd.” He’d walked back toward the desk, then turned and looked at her once again. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”

She took that as an invitation to tell him the details of what happened at Rubey’s, and his face grew darker. But he said nothing else, other than, “Anything else?”

As if his demeanor invited confidences. Angelica closed her eyes, suddenly weary and heartsick again. “No. May I be excused now, my lord? I would like nothing better than to lie down.”

His expression eased slightly, making him look almost handsome. “Yes, go. Tell Mrs. Hunburgh you are to have a bath sent to your chamber.”

Angelica left the study and closed the door behind her. She didn’t pause to ring for the housekeeper, nor did she go to her chamber. Instead she found her way to Maia’s room and opened the ajar door to find her sister pacing the floor.

“At last,” she said, rushing to embrace Angelica again. “My darling, I’ve been so worried for you.”

Taking care to keep her marked neck covered by her hair, Angelica hugged her sister back and then allowed the tears to explode.

The peremptory knocking jolted Dimitri from an uneasy sleep, strewn with images and memories he’d much prefer to forget.

He opened his eyes, wondering where in hell his valet was, and rolled over onto his swollen shoulder, twisting in the already amassed sheets. He was as used to the incessant burning as one could become to white-hot pain, but the added pressure sent a sharp, jagged jolt down his hips and legs and he muttered a curse.

Now he was fully awake. And Lucifer’s blade, a line of bright light peeked through the shutters of the far window. It was bloody midday. Who in the name of blind Fate was banging on his door and where in the burning hell was Greevely to stop them?

“Corvindale!” The voice was familiar and bossy and feminine and had Dimitri bolting up in bed. “I must speak with you!”

Miss Woodmore. He was so furious he couldn’t grasp an appropriate curse and instead bellowed, “Go away.”

The door cracked open. “Corvindale, I must speak with you. It’s nearly two o’clock and I’ve been waiting all morning—”

He was going to kill Chas Woodmore. There were so many ways to do so to a mortal, and he was going to find the one that took the longest. And if Cezar Moldavi happened to beat him to it, Dimitri was going to stake himself just so he could find Woodmore in the afterlife and murder him again.

“Go away, Miss Woodmore,” he said again. She hadn’t yet peeked around the door, but he suspected it wouldn’t be long before she did, propriety be damned. “If you must speak with me, you can wait until this evening.” After he’d finished his first full day’s sleep in more than a week. Even then, he had no intention of allowing Miss Woodmore to keep him from his most pressing task: to find Voss and fling him onto a stake.

The door opened further, but revealed nothing of the irksome woman but her voice. “Corvindale! It’s imperative that I speak with you. This is a matter that cannot wait, and if you do not come out then I will come in.”

Who in Lucifer’s world did she think she was?

Dimitri, who of course slept in nothing but his own skin, flattened his lips and made to rise from the bed. He was no fool; she would make good on her threat and then…

Blast it—why not? Perhaps it would put the fear of God, or something, into the chit. It would serve her right.

“I am abed, Miss Woodmore, and have no intention of leaving it. If you insist upon speaking with me at this time, then don’t let something as ridiculous as propriety keep you out.”

Arranging the sheets so that they at least covered the bare minimum of his dark, hirsute and scarred body, Dimitri settled back against his pillow and waited. Which would win out for Miss Woodmore, propriety or determination?

Or would mere obstinacy drive her actions?

The door inched open a bit more and her fingers came around its edge. “My lord, I must speak with you regarding Angelica.”

A contrary smile curved his lips. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come in. I can’t hear what you are saying.”

The door jerked in her hand, and Dimitri’s smile became more pleased. Now go away and let me sleep.

Even though he didn’t particularly wish to revisit the dream he’d recently grappled with, that would be better than the alternative.