Chapter 3
“Do… do we know each other, Your Grace?” Lady Elara asked, her big, ice-blue eyes wide and innocent as she stared up at him.
Constantine’s usually iron stomach twisted with discomfort as he took in the young woman’s beauty.
That raven-black hair. Those ice-blue eyes.
He should have known she was a Mason. However, it had been years since he had been close enough to Evander and Adrian to visit their home and play cards, and their sister was never allowed in the parlor when they gathered there, so it made sense she would not know why he recognized her.
He remembered how she would constantly try to sneak in, listen to their conversations, and, on bolder occasions, sneak sips of their brandy.
Her espionage was comical, perhaps even a little adorable back then, but not now.
Not when there was bad blood between the late Evander Mason and Constantine’s younger brother, Augustus.
Which, as the head of the family, meant bad blood between Constantine himself and their entire family.
Whether she knew of the feud or not, he was not about to let those pretty blue eyes fool him.
“Do not insult my intelligence, Lady Elara,” he warned, tossing her mask onto the floor. “My amusement has expired since I discovered your identity. Now I ask again, what is the sister of the man who ruined my brother doing in my house?”
The innocent look in Elara’s eyes gave way to something else. Not quite fear, but perhaps a realization that her little ruse was over.
“I... Step back, Your Grace, and I shall tell you,” she replied, her tone cold but polite.
It was only then that Constantine noticed he still had her pinned against the door, their bodies so close they were nearly touching, and he could feel the warmth radiating from her much smaller body.
Constantine drew in a breath through his nose.
His mouth watered as he took in her light scent of honey and lilies, and for a moment, he lingered in their closeness.
Then he took a single step back. The move gave her room to breathe while keeping him close enough that, if she tried to open the door, he could stop it.
Elara raised a brow at the small space he offered, and he almost smirked.
“You are not getting more than that until you answer my question,” he replied. “Do not forget, it was you who got caught, not the other way around, Lady Elara.”
That brow of hers sank back down, and if he were not so wary of her family, Constantine would have found her frown adorable.
“Very well,” she said begrudgingly, crossing her arms over her chest.
Again, Constantine could not help but cast a quick, sweeping glance down at her breasts. He might not like her family, but there was no denying that she had a lovely figure, especially when wrapped in such exquisite crimson silk.
“I believe you have something to do with my oldest brother’s... disappearance. I came here to look for evidence. Since we are now face-to-face, it would save both of us some time if you told me what you did to Evander,” she stated matter-of-factly.
Annoyance swirled with an odd sense of being impressed by her bravado in his chest, and he let out a bitter laugh as he shook his head.
“You have no idea what you are talking about. It was your brother who hurt my family, not the other way around. I had nothing to do with your brother’s death, but I certainly have not mourned his passing. He got what he deserved.”
He watched as Elara’s face turned as crimson as her gown as he said the words, those ice-blue eyes suddenly shifting to a dark cobalt, a shift that greatly intrigued him.
“How dare you accuse my brother of such things!” she exclaimed, rising onto her toes as if trying to reach his height. It was useless, of course, as her forehead barely reached Constantine’s sternum. “Evander was... is a good man!” she went on.
“Perhaps he was a good man in your eyes,” Constantine retorted. “But to my brother and me? A demon. And as I said, he got what he deserved in death.”
“Evander is not dead,” Elara insisted, taking a step toward him.
Constantine scoffed.
“You are not so daft as to believe otherwise,” he goaded. “Winslow confessed to the crime. It was in all of the papers.”
“How convenient! I have it on good authority that something else happened. Perhaps he was covering for you or your brother?” Elara quickly countered.
The question threw Constantine off guard for a moment.
“Is that it?” she demanded. “I promise you, Your Grace, I will find the truth and claim revenge on those who harmed my brother, no matter what. I will ruin both you and your brother if I have to!”
Constantine was on her in a second, any thought of decorum long forgotten in the heated argument.
He had her pressed against the door again, this time with his hands wrapped firmly around her waist, lifting her feet several inches off the ground so she could meet his eyes at his level.
Elara gasped and dug her much smaller hands into his, but she did not kick or demand to be let down before he had a chance to speak.
“Now you listen to me, and listen to me well,” he growled out.
“I can almost admire the lengths you are willing to go to in order to do right by your family, but what I will not tolerate from you are threats of any kind toward my own. You will not speak that way again, do you understand? You will not return to my house. You will not slander either my name or my brother’s.
You will leave and never come back. Am I understood? ”
Constantine glared into Elara’s eyes, searching for any hint of fear. Instead, he found only rage and defiance, and she lifted her small, pointed chin higher as she flared her nostrils and sneered at him.
Constantine vibrated with the urge to shake her and demand an answer, but as he fought for self-control, a baby’s cry erupted from behind him. His racing heartbeat nearly stuttered to a stop, and his hands loosened from under Elara’s ribcage at once, dropping her to the ground.
“Was that…” Elara whispered, looking confused. “Was that a baby?”
Constantine ground his teeth as he pulled her away from the door, then jerked it open. As he did, the sound of chaos echoed from below, and the baby’s cries grew louder.
“What is going on?” Elara demanded as he pulled her into the corridor with him.
“It is time for you to leave, Lady Elara,” Constantine replied.
Before he could lead her down the hall, though, he saw his housekeeper, Mrs. York, running toward him from the opposite direction. Constantine let go of Elara’s arm and turned his full attention to Mrs. York.
“What in the devil is going on downstairs?” he demanded. “What is all this commotion?”
“Your Grace! You need to come quickly! One of the guests stumbled into one of the firebreathers, and they caught the curtains on fire!”
Constantine gritted his teeth and growled in frustration. He turned, ready to grab Elara and drag her back downstairs, but she was nowhere to be found. His frustration quickly turned to anger.
“Mrs. York,” Constantine gritted out, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Do stay with the baby until I return. I shall handle the chaos downstairs myself. And if you see a woman in red skulking in this hallway or entering my chambers again, detain her at all costs.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mrs. York agreed as Constantine stalked away. “Who is she?”
“A problem,” Constantine muttered, then went downstairs to handle the chaos.