Let the Night Begin Read Free Page A

Occasionally an elderly matron would tell him she had fancied—or been afraid of—a man who looked rather likehim decades earlier. His grandfather perhaps? And Reign always had to be careful not to say anything that might give himself away. It was deuced difficult, and sometimes downright painful, especially when it was someone he had known and thought well of in that “other” lifetime.
    It had only been thirty years since the last time he was “out” in society. His would be a dangerous game if anyone recognized him, but he had moved in different circles then, in a different part of the country. It was unlikely that he would meet anyone from Hertford in London during this time of year.
    â€œAre you quite all right, Mr. Gavin? You look very strange.”
    Jerking back to the present, Reign smiled apologetically at his hostess. “My apologies, Mrs. Willet. A memory struck me. Nothing more.” The memory of Hertford and how he had been the happiest of his long life there.
    â€œI hope it’s nothing too dreadful?” Of course she wouldn’t expect him to admit if it was something dreadful, but her concern was genuine all the same.
    â€œNothing at all.”
    And nothing was the sum of his life. Nothing in the years that followed had come close to touching that happiness. Or the emptiness. Yes, he needed a diversion. This time of year he needed to be diverted in the worst way.
    He offered the lady his arm. “Shall we dance, madam?”
    She smiled prettily, placing her hand on his sleeve. “I thought you would never ask.”
    As they danced, whirling and prancing in a figure that hadn’t changed in a hundred years, Reign let his mind wander, speaking only when spoken to. He shouldn’t be in society tonight. He was too distracted. Too out of sorts. He should have gone to Maison Rouge and visited with Madeline and the girls. He could have drunk, maybe fed and gotten a little slap and tickle. There was that strong, buxom brunette he’d had his eye on the other night.
    But then Madeline had told him that Chapel had been by and Reign forgot about the girl. Chapel had been to the brothel? The same Chapel who had spent the last five centuries playing whipping boy to the Church? What the hell? And why hadn’t the bastard come to see him? They might no longer be the friends they once were, but they were still brothers, united by the cursed blood that took them from simple soldiers to immortal beings.
    But if Madeline’s account of that night was true—and he had no reason to think otherwise, even though he could tell she left out many of the sordid details—Chapel had glutted himself at Maison Rouge. No one had been hurt, but every girl in the house, with the exception of Maddie’s daughter, Ivy, had given her blood to Chapel. Not sex. Just blood.
    That meant that his old friend had a woman. It was about damn time.
    As the music ended, Reign escorted Mrs. Willet off the floor. “Thank you for gracing me with your favor, ma’am.”
    Snapping open her delicate silk fan, the woman cooled herself with lazy strokes. “You are so courtly, Mr. Gavin. I find it so refreshing. Most young men these days don’t give a thought to manners.”
    Reign smiled in response. Young men hadn’t been so keen on manners in his youth either, but it seemed to him that ever since Walter Scott published Ivanhoe, society in large had taken to romanticizing knights, bloody fights, and big swords. The human race was too enthralled by the past. Even he couldn’t seem to focus on the present, much less look to the future.
    The butler approached. “Beg your pardon, Mr. Gavin? I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but there is a lady asking for you at the door.”
    â€œFor me?” His first thought was that something had happened to Madeline or Maison Rouge. “Did she give her name?”
    The man’s stoic countenance never wavered.