“Yes, my lord.” The spindly butler practically leaped into the room, apparently listening to every word. “Will you show our guests to their chambers for the night? I’m sure they all need a rest after such a long journey from…well, from wherever they came.”
“Yes, my lord.” The butler bowed in obedience as if he were always given odd directives such as this. “Right away.”
Friedrich frowned but followed the butler. Mikhail allowed Mina to walk on. He stepped up beside the earl and stopped him with a hand to the chest at the doorway.
“Lord Rathbone, since you apparently know of the Bloodguard’s reputation, I should think there is no reason for me to warn you that if you try to send word out of this house regarding who is currently residing under your roof, my men will gut them before they reach your borders.” Mikhail faced him and enunciated each word as evenly as a sharp knife slicing a peach. “And then I’ll gut you.”
Mikhail wouldn’t step foot from his presence until the earl understood quite clearly that he was looking at his own death should he step out of line. Earl or no.
The earl didn’t blink or flinch at such a promise of bloodshed in his home. He pasted on an amiable smile, which he probably wore for the most arrogant men of his station. “There is no reason at all, Captain. I quite understand your meaning.”
“Mikhail?” Mina had returned, fear written in the knitting of her brow and tightening of her mouth. “Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yes, Your Highness. The captain and I were just coming to an understanding.” Rathbone stepped away.
“I’m sure,” she replied, suspiciously.
“I’ll be in my study should Graves or my housekeeper, Ms. Ward, not be able to find what you need.” He turned as if he remembered something. “My father will be pleased to see you again, Your Highness.”
“Your father?”
Mikhail noted her high-pitched surprise.
“Yes.” Rathbone laughed. “He’s still alive, believe it or not. We’ll see you all at dinner.” He turned toward what appeared to be his study from Mikhail’s vantage point. “Interesting night, indeed.” The earl chuckled to himself.
Mikhail walked at her side as they ascended the carpeted stairs. “Why were you shocked his father is alive?”
Mina smiled. “Do you mean to say that I know something the great and fearful Captain Romanov does not?”
He huffed out a breath. “Tell me, Princess.”
“His father beget him when he was over a thousand years old. The earl is his one and only child.”
“Wait. Then why is Rathbone the earl while his father still lives?”
Mina tripped on her skirts. Mikhail caught her by the arm. Her breath hitched, but she kept moving up the stairs. He didn’t let her go, holding her till they reached the landing.
“The former earl displeased Queen Morgrid over I know not what, but it was enough that King Grindal and Queen Morgrid stripped him of his title. They allowed him to live only if he remained here at Sommersby all the rest of his days. You see, the former earl was around as far back as when the king and queen first claimed Glass Tower as their own.”
“You mean when the queen murdered her twin brother in cold blood, usurping his throne so that she could rule.”
Mina continued walking slowly up the corridor where Graves had led Friedrich. “Yes. I keep forgetting that.”
“I don’t,” he bit out harder than he’d intended.
She paused and turned to him. “Are you all right?”
He combed a hand through his hair, anxiety riding him at the turn of conversation. “I don’t know.”
Her light touch on his arm both calmed and stirred him. “Mikhail. Are you all right?”
When she looked at him like that, like she was his woman and she intended to make the world right again, he wanted to fall to his knees and surrender once and for all.
Instead, he repeated, “I don’t know.” Then turned up the corridor and away from the woman he wanted more than life itself. Even his justice…and his revenge.
Chapter Nineteen
Lord Rathbone didn’t lie. Dinner had been interesting. The conversation light. The meal heavy, finishing with a goblet of warm blood instead of dessert. Typical of a formal meal in the house of a vampire aristocrat. What Mina found the most interesting was the way Rathbone’s father, the former earl, who went by Lord Petrov, kept most of his comments to himself and his eyes on Mikhail. He watched him as if trying to remember something. Or perhaps trying to remember someone.
In appearance, Lord Rathbone’s father was a mirror image of his son, just less formidable in stature and breadth of chest. While his eyes held all the fire of a young man, his face and demeanor were brittle. He was one of the few vampires left who was there at the beginning, when Queen Morgrid had become ruler of the realm.
The lilting laughter of one of Rathbone’s three concubines who had joined them for dinner interrupted her thoughts. The stunning redhead placed a dainty hand on Mikhail’s sleeve.
“Oh, come now, Captain. I’ll bet in your line of work you have a thousand fascinating stories.”
“They may be a little rough for your liking, my lady,” he responded leisurely, though Mina noted the tightness around his eyes.
“I don’t mind ‘a little rough,’ Captain.”
Mina’s empathic gift showed her the redhead, Lady Sasha, wasn’t simply pretending. Her lust for Mikhail practically hummed in the air around her. Not that Mina could blame her, but the thought of her in his arms made her clench her fists in her lap. There was no reason, since Mikhail gave the lady no encouragement whatsoever.
“Shall we adjourn to the parlor?” Lord Rathbone stood, the candlelight gilding his auburn hair gold. “I believe some musical entertainment is in order.” He smiled down at his concubines. All three standing, with demure bows of the head, they led the party into the large parlor with the grand black-lacquer piano in the corner.
Mina had no parents, so she had never experienced a household where the master and mistress had blood harems. Though Lord Rathbone’s three ladies of nobility couldn’t quite be called a harem, they were still ladies of questionable morals. They reminded her of the women she encountered when Steward Thorwald had sent Mina off to the opera or balls or musicals. They said one thing but meant another, manipulating men with a flicker of lashes, and cutting women who got in the way.
Thankfully, they weren’t at a ball or an opera. And she wasn’t just any lady of the gentry.
She glanced at Mikhail, wondering whether he’d ever had a harem. No. He might be born a gentleman, but he wasn’t of royal blood. Even so, she didn’t imagine he’d ever keep a collection of women for his pleasure.
Mina joined Friedrich on the settee. Mikhail remained standing to the side. Lord Rathbone took a position next to Mina. His father ambled in and seated himself in a well-worn leather chair, the nailheads on the arms having long lost their sparkle.
“Do you have a particular request, my lord?” asked Lady Sasha, her glossy red hair hanging over one pearlescent shoulder.
The brunette seated herself at the piano, flipping through music sheets. And the blonde, beautiful though not as captivating as Lady Sasha, seated herself on a high chair behind a harp.