Brother of Wrath (The Blackwood Brotherhood #3)

Chapter One

The Marquess of Stafford stood before the old stone house, its looming facade as forbidding as the memories it held.

Blackwood Hall. The name alone left a sour taste in his mouth.

Built from dark gray stone, the right wing smothered in thick coils of ivy, it sprawled wide enough to swallow five London townhouses whole.

Time had passed, yet the place remained unchanged—cold and unyielding as the day he’d left it.

Merely setting eyes upon it again stirred the old anger Jamie could never bury, a reminder that some stains upon the soul could never be washed away.

He’d lost part of himself within these walls.

He might appear to be everything his lineage suggested, a man of consequence with one of the oldest titles in England, with wealth, estates, two sisters, and friends who loved him, but none of it had erased the demons Blackwood Hall had left him with, nor the numbness he still carried.

Jamie had learned to hide it. People saw a man who was amiable enough when required, a gentleman who walked in society alongside those of similar birth. His civility was a facade, and one he knew he would wear until he drew his last breath.

“I will find you,” he vowed, eyes fixed on the building. “I will hunt you like the animal you are and end you.”

Turning his horse on that vow, he headed back along the road as if the dogs of hell were at his heels. Bent low over the long black neck, he let the cold wind lash his face, gulping in air—anything to rid himself of the furious rage.

The wind slapped him hard, accompanied by the rustle of leaves on the trees lining both sides of the road. Dark, cold, and alone.

“Fight it, Jamie.” Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to shake the memories and emotions the hellish years he’d spent boarding at Blackwood Hall still made him feel. Opening them, he saw a figure before him.

“Move!” Jamie roared. He was going too fast to stop.

At the last minute, the person leapt aside, diving into the trees.

“Whoa!” He reined in the horse and dismounted. “Stand, Archie!”

Sprinting back down the road, he searched for the figure. The cursing gave him his first clue as to where she was. He’d nearly run down a woman. This was a new low, even for him.

“Are you hurt?” He stepped into the bushes and reached for her. Gripping her waist, he pulled her out and back onto her feet. “Are you all right?” Jamie stepped back, not wanting to intimidate.

The moon allowed him to see her—well, the top of her bonnet—as she was busy slapping at her skirts.

“Why are you out here, madam, at this time of night, alone?”

Her hands stilled, and she looked up at him.

“Lady Alice?”

“Lord Stafford,” she snapped. “What the bloody hell did you think you were doing, riding down a country road at such breakneck speed at this time of day, sir?”

“It’s the middle of the night, my lady. What better time is there?

” He’d never heard her swear before, which was also true for most people he encountered in society.

Jamie rarely swore in company. Even so, it was a surprise to hear the words come from her mouth.

Lady Alice Smythe was everything that was proper.

“You nearly ran me down, my lord! While that may be amusing to you, I assure you, it is not for me!” She snapped the words at him.

“Forgive me, but I did not expect to see someone wandering along as if out for a stroll at such an hour.” His tone now matched her clipped one.

Jamie did not know Lady Alice well, though he had admired her from afar on the few occasions he’d seen her at society gatherings.

There was a quiet refinement to her beauty that drew the eye.

A serenity the ladies of the ton strove for but few possessed.

She had a soft, pale complexion and hair the color of midnight.

He didn’t know her exact age but knew the ton considered her well past marriageable.

Since her brother’s passing two years earlier, she had largely withdrawn from society, but even before that, she’d made only a few appearances each season. Jamie also knew that, like him, her brother had been a Blackwood boy.

“I have every right to wander where I wish, when I wish it, and I assure you I am no fool for doing so.” Her chin rose as he studied her face.

Her father, Lord Smythe, lived in France now, leaving Lady Alice with only her aunt for company.

“You’re out here alone, my lady, at night.”

“As you see.” The words were coated in ice.

“A woman walking in solitude at such a time is folly, Lady Alice. Any rogue could have chanced upon you.”

“As you are the only person I have encountered, and society often views you as a rogue, perhaps you are correct. However, your opinion carries no weight with me, Lord Stafford, and I do not care for it. Good evening.”

With those words, she turned and walked away, leaving him speechless for several seconds. It took a lot to set Jamie back on his heels. She’d just called him a rogue.

“I can’t let you walk home alone, my lady,” he called when he’d found his voice.

“Go about your business, Lord Stafford,” she said over her shoulder, “and leave me to mine.”

“And what business would I have at such an hour?” he muttered.

Walking back to Archie, still smarting from the rogue comment, even if he knew it was a valid one, he sighed. Society had often called him and his two friends that, though not anymore, as Anthony and Toby were now respectably married.

He mounted and started after the woman striding away from him.

Jamie weighed his options. He could follow, which would take some time at her current pace, even with long, angry strides, or he could seek out a brandy, which sounded far preferable.

But he couldn’t, in good conscience, leave her alone.

He had two sisters; if one of them were doing something so reckless, he would hope that whoever encountered them would come to their aid.

Sighing, he nudged Archie forward, watching as she stepped to the side of the road to allow him to pass.

He doubted she’d listen to reason, so Jamie bent, caught her around the waist, and lifted her up before him.

She already thought him a rogue so he may as well live up to his reputation.

Her shriek nearly pierced an eardrum as he settled her on the saddle.

“Put me down at once!” She wriggled furiously—and in that moment, he realized Lady Alice Smythe had a deliciously rounded bottom.

“The gentleman in me cannot, I’m afraid, in good conscience allow you to walk about alone, to fall prey to any unscrupulous individual.”

She struggled, so he simply tightened his grip. With one hand on the reins and his thighs controlling the horse, he nudged Archie into a slow canter.

“If you attempt to jump from this height, you will harm yourself.”

“How dare you handle me in such a manner!”

“I am looking out for your welfare, madam, which clearly you are not capable of doing for yourself.”

She cursed loudly—a string of words any salty sailor would be proud to have in their repertoire.

“Tut-tut, Lady Alice. What will society think of your vocabulary, considering the prim facade you portray?” Jamie said, slowing his horse to a walk.

“I don’t give a fig about society,” she snapped. “Fools, the lot of them, and that includes you.”

“I do believe that hurt.” Her body felt lovely pressed to his, even as she tried to put distance between them.

Jamie had to admit he was enjoying holding her far more than he should—a surprise, given how rarely he felt anything at all.

He was cold inside, and yet, with Lady Alice Smythe in his arms, he felt warm.

“Surely not all of society are fools?” Even as he spoke, Jamie knew he agreed with her. There were good people among them, but many were idiots, whose sole focus was to be seen, and in the best light.

“Put me down, Lord Stafford.” Her tone was calmer now, and like his sisters, she was attempting to reason with him, having understood that rage would not work. A lesson, he thought, some men would do well to learn.

“Not until I have you home.”

“And I have no say in the matter?”

“None.”

They rode in silence for several minutes as Jamie searched for a topic to ease the tension. “Your brother was younger than I, therefore I did not know him well, but we went to the same school, my lady. Please accept my condolences on your loss.”

Her breath hitched, and he was sure that a soft sob escaped her lips. Idiot. Clearly, she was still struggling with her brother’s death.

“Are you all right?” Jamie asked. He often felt as though he were walking barefoot over broken glass at the bottom of a bog when confronted with tears, especially those of his sisters. He was woefully ill-equipped to comfort anyone.

Jamie had no empathy left inside him.

“I am well,” she said in a steady voice that made him wonder if he’d imagined the sob. “My brother was a good man.”

“I’m sure he was.”

He’d often thought someone should have written a manual about women.

One solely for the purpose of helping men navigate the treacherous waters of their moods.

Not that men were much better, but at least with them, what you saw was what you got.

If they were angry, they roared or hit something.

But a woman could slice you to ribbons with a single cutting word or look, and you’d have no idea why.

“Why are you on this road alone, Lady Alice?”

“I like to walk when I cannot sleep.”

“I can’t fault that, as I do the same. Why can’t you sleep?”

He didn’t think she would answer such a personal question, but then she said quietly, “I believe you also lodged at Blackwood Hall like my brother, my lord?”

This time it was Jamie who had no wish to answer, but he did, with just one word. “Yes.” Suddenly, he was tense again.

“And did you have… was Mr. Kenneth Jackson your housemaster, Lord Stafford?”

Hearing that name always sent him back there, to the screams, the pain, he and his friends begging for mercy as they were plunged into hell. It had been prolonged and vicious, orchestrated by a man who took pleasure in it.

“Yes,” Jamie rasped.

She turned then, twisting her body to look at him. “My lord, are you all right?”

“We are here,” Jamie said, urging his horse down the drive and into the courtyard of her father’s estate. “Good evening, Lady Alice,” he added, lowering her to the ground. “Don’t walk again at such an hour. Next time, the man you come across may not be a gentleman.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Jamie had turned his horse and fled into the night.