Dominic's Nemesis Read online

  Cael returned the stare without flinching. “Why do you persist in donning that ridiculous eye-wear? It’s the middle of the night in a darkened auditorium. No one is likely to—”

  Dominic tensed. “Where. Is. Ethan?” He shoved the spectacles back up the bridge of his nose and turned away. The cravat restricted his movements somewhat, but he could still catch his brother’s profile out of the corner of his eye.

  Dark blond brows and amber eyes registered defeat as though he’d just remembered to whom he spoke. “Settle down, Dom. I haven’t the vaguest notion of Ethan’s whereabouts. He muttered something about madcap colonists run amok in polite society just before he commandeered my hack and thundered off. I did however insist upon his promise that the endeavor was not life-threatening.”

  “Good.” Satisfied, Dominic returned his attention to the podium. “The midnight venue was the only one where our presence here would not draw attention…or questions.”

  Cael glanced to the speaker before looking back to his brother. “You still have not explained why you wanted us here.”

  “Just listen.” Dominic raked a hand through tar-black locks, which hung over the back of his collar. Ethan would have just listened. Cael demanded more. He always had.

  “Who is he, Dom?”

  “An American radical. He is university-trained, and has published multiple articles on science, medicine…and spiritualism.”

  His brother’s head snapped to face him. “He’s a spiritualist?”

  “No.” Dom frowned. “His publications regarding Spiritualism are not supportive. I’m surprised you haven’t heard his name before.”

  “Perhaps I would have if you did not object to my applying for membership into the Royal Society. All the respected practitioners-”

  “Please do not change the subject.” Dom cut him off. The last thing he wanted was another convoluted argument about the validity of that scientific gossip club.

  Cael exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Dom. The Society promotes the improvement of knowledge in the natural sciences.”

  “It’s an unholy mixture of science, politics, and gossip.” He snapped. “But that’s neither here nor there. I called you here because this assembly of his is the first in a series of academic campaigns promoting the acceptance of a new field of science. Psionics. The study of psychic deviants…us. His ultimate goal is anyone’s guess.”

  “I see.” Cael returned his attention to the speaker. “You think he’s a threat.”

  “You don’t?” Dom groaned at his brother’s toneless reaction. He knew he wouldn’t get an answer from Cael. The man was impossible to read when he chose to be.

  Chapter 2

  The ladies piled into Eden’s chamber like children eager for a bedtime story. Millie fussed around her while the bold redhead and Haversdale’s niece each sat at her right on the bed. The remaining redheads and the giggly triplets alternated between whispering to themselves and gawking at her. They were all agog to see what would happen next. Eden did not blame them. She’d be intrigued too, were she not the object of their fascination. Lady Haversdale, armed with a stern expression, resumed her questioning.

  “Now then, tell us the last thing you remember.”

  “I remember chanting along with everyone else. I…eh…” Eden hesitated, not sure how to explain the other impressions she’d experienced.

  “Do not fret.” Lady Haversdale smoothed, reading her fears. “No one here is likely to label you a heretic or a madwoman.”

  “Aunt is right.” Her niece concurred. “We all participated. By accusing you we would incriminate ourselves as well.”

  The others dutifully nodded their heads.

  Assuaged, Eden labored to explain. “I remember feeling disconnected…from myself. As if, something else had control of me and I was just the vessel it used to speak. It did speak, did it not?”

  “Yes.” Their host confirmed. “Quite forcefully.”

  Despite her increasing fear of knowing just what had happened to her, Eden’s curiosity got the better of her. “What did I say?”

  Her question caused an uneasy silence in the room.

  “Well, tell her.” The bold one ordered. “Or I will.”

  One of the triplets spoke up. “Your voice was…different. Husky. The sound of it took us by surprise…my sisters and I. I’m Primrose, by the by.”

  Eden eyed her, then the two on either side of her. She found their alikeness rather dizzying.

  “The point, Prim, get to the point.” One sister ordered.

  “Yes, of course. You…the other you, I mean, garbled something about sins and punishment. You sounded sort of eh, desperate.”

  “Hysterical more like.”

  “Hysterical then.” Prim amended. “Over and over again, perhaps with a few variations. Then, the most frightening thing happened.”

  Enraptured, Eden leaned towards her.

  “For an instant, only an instant mind you, you did not look like yourself. An energy of sorts emanated from you. Then, your plaits were undone and flying around. Your hair is so ashen…eh, it appeared to…glisten…a little.” She rushed on as if apologizing. “It could have been just a trick of the light, because you’re…also pale.”

  The sister to her right took over the re-telling. “That is when Lady Haversdale ordered us ladies to break the circle and put out the candelabrum. We heard an awful crash in the dark and then Prue, Prim and I helped re-light the lanterns. I’m Sephie…its Persephone, really, but who could be bothered to say all that. Anyway, we found you on the floor next to what was left of your cushion seat.”

  “Has anything of this magnitude ever happened before?” Their host asked.

  “One might ask the same of you.” Millie snapped. “Aren’t you the professed medium?”

  “No.” And Eden hoped it would never happen again.

  * * *

  A multitude of low-burning sconces lined the walls, mirroring the shadowy atmosphere of the lecture hall. Dominic stood alone, dead center of the room, sipping brandy and debating the wisdom of loitering about in society. He longed to discard his specs so he could get a clearer image of the people around him, but he dared not. Cael had gone off under the guise of fetching himself a brandy. Where the devil was he? Dom suspected he’d been ditched until he spotted his brother’s dark blond head a few yards away.

  Members of the audience aggregated in smallish groups. Cael stood near one of two drink tables…a discreet distance behind Greyson’s six plus frame. The gent in conversation with him was older, with meager hair scattered over a shiny scalp. Dom watched as his brother inched closer. Eavesdropping, no doubt. The twosome was deep in conversation. So, Cael could be expressive when it suited him, he thought. Curious of the odd mien marring his usual poker-face, Dominic began to pace towards his brother.

  “What did you say your business was, Mr…”

  “Montgomery. Matthias Montgomery. Perhaps the name is familiar.”

  Dom watched Greyson shrug at the comment. “No. I can’t say that it is.”

  “Pity.” For an instant, his eyes hardened.

  Upon closer examination, Dominic noted that Montgomery’s garb was quite a bit more common of style and thread than the others around them. No waistcoat, or cravat either. He wore a rough charcoal jacket over a shirt of equally dull color and would have been considered stocky if he were shorter. Standing next to the picturesque Greyson cast him as an impoverished cousin waiting in the wings to inherit a better lot in life.

  “Actually, Greyson, you an’ I is in the same business. I just ‘andle a different leg of it, you might say.” He edged closer, nudging Greyson’s arm. The gesture implied a camaraderie that did not exist between the two men, if the younger gentleman’s puzzled expression were to be believed.

  “How’s that, sir. Are you an anatomist?”

  “I runs a lunatic asylum for the upper crust Lords and Ladies wot don’t want a blemish ruining their social calendar. I used to get about as a Bow’ Run
ner in the old days, but found this line of work much more rewardin’ financially…and personally too, you understand. Wot’s a body to do wit the odd uncle that goes off the deep end? They’d have a right nasty time of it in Bedlam’s general population. This way is more humane. But if it’s like you say, some of ‘em ain’t so much touched in the head as they are adept at otherworldly things, perhaps we could strike a bargain—”

  Greyson cleared his throat without preamble. “Mr. Montgomery. As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm and unique…eh, view of cerebral abnormalities, I do not think that we have enough goals in common to be true colleagues. I am however honored at your faith in my work. Stay as long as you wish. There are, I believe some leaflets available, which you might find of interest. Do excuse me.”

  Without giving the gentleman an opportunity to renew their dialogue, Greyson departed. He did not stop or look around, but joined a group of eager-looking ladies halfway across the floor. Montgomery fumed at the cut before snatching a brandy glass from the table and stalking off in the opposite direction.

  Dominic meandered to close the gap between him and Cael.

  “I did not like that gentleman.” His brother confessed.

  “Greyson?”

  “The other one.”

  “Yes.” Dominic mused. “There was something disquieting about him, but he is no fool.”

  “It might be better for Greyson if he were.”

  “Do not waste your sympathies. Greyson is no fool either.”

  Chapter 3

  Dominic grimaced at the swath of disheveled papers before him. Deeds. Creditors. Unpaid debts. A vaguely threatening magistrate’s letter. Damn. He needed a break. Like the funeral, he had hoped to leave the settling of his father’s estate to the Italian branch of the family. But, events transpired such that he was forced to play at least a cursory role in Lucca Ambrosi’s affairs.

  Dominic abandoned his desk and meandered around the study, shoveling his hands through the already disarrayed waves atop his head. He came to stand beside the hearth, shed his jacket and waistcoat…and longed for a bath and a shave. Afternoon had not yet resolved into evening, but he was restless enough to consider retiring to his suites. His grandmother was due the following morning, and he’d no doubt need a day and a half’s rest to deal with the old dragon. He dreaded her coming, but he was resigned to it.

  Dominic abhorred visitors in general. He could narrowly tolerate the skeleton crew of servants required to keep up an estate the size of his countryside residence. Where there were people, gossip and innuendo were sure to follow. The Ambrosi’ could ill-afford whispers and murmurings.

  Just then, a muffled commotion captured his attention. Startled, he dashed for the desk to don his spectacles before heading for the door. In the foyer beyond the main entrance, Dominic spied Cael and Ethan haggling with his wiry butler. Dominic dispatched Renfred to his quarters and blade them to join him in the study.

  He knew the instant the door closed that they bore dire news. Ethan, a paler, older version of himself with warm eyes and chocolate hair, took up pacing in front of the fire. Cael, a sturdy port in any storm, came to stand opposite Dominic with the wide expansion of desk in between.

  “I received a summons from the University.” Cael stated without buffer. “There’s been an incident involving Stephan and several other students.”

  So, it had finally happened, the thing he had dreaded since he’d first located his two American brothers. “How bad?” He heard himself ask.

  “It’s uncertain if one young man will ever recover from his injuries.” Cael informed him. “But there is no talk of witchcraft or sorcery…yet.”

  Good. That’s good. Maybe the damage is still manageable.

  “The headmaster wants him off the premises immediately.” Ethan inserted mid-stride. “There was mention of involving the magistrate. It will take no small level of finesse if we have any hope of keeping it quiet. We must be off post haste.”

  Dominic groaned. “I cannot.”

  “You have a more pressing matter to attend to than the possible incarceration of our brother? Do tell.” Cael injected just the right amount of censure to get his point across.

  Dominic avoided his gaze, knowing his next words would not be well received. He didn’t feel like arguing with Cael tonight, but it seemed fate superseded him.

  “Nonna descends shortly from Italy to help settle some concerns regarding the Ambrosi legacy. Gideon informed me of the Conte’s ill-health some months ago and promised to handle things there, but—”

  “Conte Ambrosi…is dead?” Ethan paused in his pacing.

  “Your father died?” He felt Cael amber’s eyes digging into him. “When?”

  “Ahh…A month, perhaps six weeks ago.” He fanned his fingers at the uselessness of the question. “Does it matter? Gideon said—”

  “To hell with Gideon.” Cael snapped. “Your father died a month ago and you didn’t mention it? Did you attend the services at least?”

  Ethan came to stand beside Cael. Dominic imagined he was accustomed by now to playing the arbitrator.

  Dom sighed. “I was not overly attached to the man. You know this. Is it such a shock that I would not mourn his passing?”

  “Say what you will, Dom, but it is unnatural not to feel something…bitterness even…at the death of a parent.”

  Ethan’s voice sliced through a tension thicker than pea soup. “Cael, that is unfair. Everyone grieves in their own way.”

  Both brothers ignored him.

  Dom’s gaze held fast to the fire burning in the hearth. “If you mean to say that I am an abomination, do not bother. I have always been aware of my place in the world. I am, however, saddened to learn Stephan has fell victim to the Ambrosi family curse. I had prayed that you and he at least would be spared.”

  “You know, Dom, cutting yourself off from society will only hasten the madness that you are so afraid is inevitable. God did not create man alone.” Cael ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I am going for a walk.” He turned to address their other brother for the first time. “Ethan, be ready to leave when I return.”

  * * *

  A tranquil breeze whistled through the scattering of trees, causing the loose foliage on the ground to flit upward in spiral patterns. The blue-grey sky far off on the horizon provided a serene backdrop. Unmoved by the picturesque surroundings, Eden wondered at the irony of such a beautiful place being the setting for such tragic events. Fate was a cruel mistress, she thought.

  Evening crept in through the trees. Eden knew she should start back towards the house. Instead, she ambled along a trail of sorts that carried her beyond the St. James’ country estate. Some time later she found herself lost in a dense patch of forest. After a minute or two of scanning the area, she slumped in acceptance. She felt as if her spirits were lost as well, cast to the wintry breeze with nothing to anchor them. The St. James’ had been her last refuge. What would she do now? Where would she go?

  Her shoes, inadequate for long walks, kept getting snared under tree roots and low-lying vines. After the third misstep, she kicked the troublesome things aside and continued on barefoot, savoring the sharp cold of the soil. She might have to spend the night in the woods since the approaching twilight left little chance of finding her way back. She kept walking out of futility rather than hope. Lord Linley would be more prone to bar the door than send a search party. A hysterical laugh bubbled up at the thought.

  She stopped short. A clearing. A sizable clearing. It slanted downward into a pond. Well, it was more of a marsh, Eden deduced when she came nearer. Wind rustled through the trees, roughing the surface of the pond. Curious, she crept closer, her eyes drawn to the murky, moss-colored water. It called to her, some unseen thrall, luring her ever nearer…to the water’s edge, where a grotesque thought entered her mind.

  What if all the pain could be over? It would be easy, quick, perhaps not painless, but a lesser torture in the grand scheme of things. The soggy groun
d oozed up between her toes. Eden continued to stare at the reflection in the water’s surface; her hazel eyes were owlish and un-focused. Wisps of chestnut hair spilled out from the bun at her nape. To her mind, the lady in the pond resembled a tragic maiden caught in the cross-fire between two warring Gods.

  Come home to us, Eden. We will take care of you.

  Wait…Chestnut. Her hair should be blonde. She was knocked off-kilter. The ripples in the water’s surface calmed as the wind died down. Something…someone, an eerie unfamiliar face…or vestige of a face took shape…a face not her own. In the bowels of the pond, Eden spied feminine features obscured by tentacle-d hair and the water’s natural murkiness. That of a smaller, child-like image continuous almost with the pond lady hovered near. Eden. Come with us.

  Eden did not know when or if she made a conscious decision to hurl herself in the water. She only became aware of herself when she inhaled a mouthful of viscous liquid. Her eyes stung terribly as she flailed around. She gained little headway towards the surface for all her frantic movements. Disoriented from lack of air, she grew tired. Her mass of skirts helped weigh her downwards to certain doom. Resigned, she ceased struggling and let herself sink, graceful almost, into oblivion. Her life did not pass before her. Eyes closed, arms outstretched, Eden’s last conscious impression was that of a man…with olive-skin, black hair, and the oddest expression she could ever imagine.

  * * *

  In the thirty or so minutes since Cael had stalked off, Dominic plunged into silence. As he sat motionless on the couch between the desk and the hearth, he could sense that Ethan knew not what to say to him.

  “Dom?”

  Dominic smiled at the shortening of his name. Cael and Stephan started the trend. Before them, Ethan would have been scandalized at the mere notion of a nickname. Ethan was as English as the Queen.