Blood Secret. Sharon Page

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      “Yes,” she answered swiftly. But her father’s tears and his words—I failed a child—rang in her head. She didn’t know the truth, but she feared the worst, and it made her sick with guilt and horror.

      “What of my brother?” she asked, and the silence seemed to shatter like fragile ice on a pond. “Was he all right? Did your men tell you anything about how he is faring?”

      Greystone stretched out his legs, and lifted a brow. “You are worried about that worthless scoundrel? Lady Lucy, you are foolishly and unnecessarily sentimental. Your brother is hiding in a brothel. I assure you he is fine. Very fine, though perhaps a bit tired.”

      Something about the way he spoke ... “Did you see him? You said your men found him, but you speak as though you have seen him for yourself.”

      “Indeed. I visited him last night. I wanted him to tell me where my nephew is being held. He refused.”

      Lucy swallowed hard. “You don’t seem like the sort of gentleman who takes a refusal in stride. What did you do?” Her voice rose as her panic did. “Did you hurt him? Torture him? Kill him?”

      “My dear, I would not be taking you to the brothel if I had either hurt or destroyed him. What would be the point? Also, he can’t help me if he is dead.”

      It was true. “So you simply left him in the brothel when he would not help you?”

      “That was my intention for the time being, while I determined the best plan of attack to make him help me.”

      Oh dear God, she had been a fool. Greystone wanted to force her brother to speak ... and he had her alone in a carriage. “Are you planning to use me as leverage?” Her voice broke. Lucy began to laugh—laughter that turned to choking sobs. She regained her breath. “It wouldn’t work. And you can’t threaten to ruin me, can you? We’ve already done that. What are you going to do? Threaten to kill me. Perhaps he would let you—”

      “No, he wouldn’t. You told me he saved your life once before.”

      “I do not know anymore what he is capable of doing. He can hardly care about us all when he simply deserted us to live in a brothel.”

      The duke’s brow rose. “He would hardly let you suffer.”

      “I don’t know... . I do not know anymore... . He didn’t care if our sister was forced to marry an older, disgusting earl. He knew how afraid and desperate we were.” She took a shaky breath. Ice emanated from the duke’s glower. Softly, she asked, “Is your nephew like me? Can he change into a dragon?”

      “Yes.”

      Through narrowed eyes, he watched her. “So the truth now comes out. You do know your family took my nephew.”

      “I do not.” But she sucked in a harsh breath. Could Father have believed the duke’s nephew was in danger? Perhaps he could have taken the boy, if he believed he had to protect the child. When Father took in abandoned children, it was to protect them from parents who thought them monsters, from villagers who intended to kill them, from dragon slayers.

      But to kidnap a duke’s nephew ...

      “Did my father speak to you about your nephew’s power? Did my father want to take your nephew to help him?”

      “No, Lady Lucy.”

      She waited for more explanation but he gave her nothing. “I—I thought perhaps my father insisted that your nephew should be with others of his kind. So we could help him adapt to the human world.”

      “No, my dear. Such things were never discussed.”

      Was he lying? Her father would not take a child unless he had no other choice.

      “But you knew about your nephew’s ability to become a dragon?”

      “Yes, I had witnessed it. It was unfortunate, but it could not be helped. And as a vampire, I knew exactly how to care for James. Your father did not take my nephew to protect him. It was entirely selfish motives that prompted your father to steal a frightened boy.”

      “I am sure that is not true.”

      “What you believe out of loyalty is of no consequence. Anyway, we have arrived. Shall we get out and find your brother?”

      What she thought was of no consequence? “Why?” she demanded. “So you can threaten me in front of him?”

      The duke sighed. “Of course not. So you can obtain the information from him. If you wish to leave here with your brother, that is what you must do.”

      So he would not let her take Jack with her, unless he got what he wanted.

      Apparently sleeping with the man had not made him feel anything for her. He spoke as dispassionately as he would about lint on his coat. Lucy pursed her lips as the carriage door opened, then his footman helped her down the steps. To think she had liked this rogue’s kisses.

      She whirled on him as he stepped down from the carriage. She stood on the sidewalk—of a not-quite fashionable street on the fringe of Mayfair. “What do you mean—if I want to leave here? What are you going to do? Kill me? Force me into captivity in the brothel? Hurt my brother?”

      She’d expected he would look hard and cruel. Instead, the duke looked old, worn down, filled with pain. “Lady Lucy, if I have to keep you captive until I get the truth out of one of you, I will.”

      He would not. She doubted he could keep her captive—in dragon form she was incredibly strong. Very strong, if she were fighting for her life.

      She would find out about his nephew. But why had her father taken the boy? Had it been to protect him from his hard, unfeeling vampire of an uncle?

      Lucy stepped over the threshold of the brothel into a beautiful foyer. A fountain bubbled in the middle and skylights bathed the sparkling water with moonlight.

      Gasping, she turned in a circle, drinking in the elegance of this house of ill repute.

      Her brother spent most of his nights in brothels like this, but she had never been in one. She had always imagined a whorehouse would be a house decorated with garish scarlet, filled with screeching women and drunken men.

      This house was a beautiful white-stucco home, one of a row of elegant townhouses. Tasteful décor leapt to the eye—expensive furnishings, beautiful respectable paintings of nymphs in light and airy dresses, paneled walls. Two footmen respectfully bowed, murmuring, “Good evening, Your Grace. Madam.” They drew open two large black doors.

      The duke grasped her arm and placed her hand on the crook of his arm. She tried to break free but he would not let her. She glared at him.

      He leaned close and whispered, “Be careful, love. There are brothels that cater to vampires, demons, and shifters. This isn’t one of them.”

      Her eyes must have gone huge—she felt the abrupt lift of her hairline as her brows arched high.

      The duke drew out a small stack of notes—and pressed it to the hand of a youthful footman who waited respectfully by the brothel’s СКАЧАТЬ