Her brother looked down at his hands, where they touched her. She knew what he feared.
“My power is gone. Ravenhunt took it from me.” She blushed fiercely. She couldn’t tell her brother how that had happened. “But if Raven turns the power over to the vampire queen, he will die. I have to go to him and somehow save him.”
“Why will he die, if you did not?”
“I was protected.” Love had protected her. Was there any way her love could protect Raven? Any way she could save him now?
She didn’t care what he’d done in his past. She forgave him for forcing her into sex, for taking her power against her will—he’d done it to save his sister. He had thought she would hate him. She could never hate him. “We have to hurry.”
Harry clasped her hand. “That vampire you were with—I heard him talking with a female vampire outside this house. The way he spoke . . . he’s the brother of the woman I love. She believes him dead, and she is under the guardianship of the new marquis. But her brother is not dead, he is a vampire—”
“You love Ravenhunt’s sister?” she broke in, astonished.
“Yes, his sister, Frederica. A vampire queen has taken her prisoner.”
“I know,” she said, hurriedly. “It is to force him to give up the power he took from me. We must find them both. But how?”
There was so much Ophelia wanted to know. Why had her brother become a vampire slayer? How had he found her? There was no time for questions. Nor to find out about her brother’s life for the years she had not been there.
Harry groaned. “I don’t know where to find the vampire queens. I don’t even know them all. There are several, all representing different clans of vampires, and they either work together, or they war with each other. This is one I do not know, but I did hear the vampire Ravenhunt use the name Jade. We have to go to men I know. Men I work with.”
He tried to pull her to get her moving. She resisted.
“I am sorry,” her brother said quickly. “You are in your nightgown. But we do not have time for you to dress. We’ll put a cloak over you, get you to Lady Brookshire’s, and she will look after you.”
“Lady Brookshire?”
“She is also a member of the Royal Society. She is a vampire, like her husband, but she is one who can be trusted.”
Ophelia felt like Ravenhunt: racing to the rescue without wearing clothes. Harry thought she wore a nightgown, but that wasn’t true. She was naked beneath the robe.
“I had my carriage follow behind me when I followed this Ravenhunt from Frederica’s house.” Harry frowned. “The Earl of Brookshire is a vampire. Does this mean—hell, would this mean Ravenhunt could pretend he was still alive and reclaim the title? Could he be head of Frederica’s home? I tried to slay him—”
“Harry, we can worry about this later.” Then she grasped his arm. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
“No.”
A shiver went down her back. He’d said that ruefully.
“Come on, we must rescue them.” But would her brother, a vampire slayer, rescue Ravenhunt? Or would he want to kill Ravenhunt?
No, Harry couldn’t kill the brother of the woman he loved. No man would do such a terrible thing.
Ophelia followed Harry into the foyer of the Earl of Brookshire’s residence. Over her belted robe, she had on her black cloak, the one borrowed from Ravenhunt. She had stuck her feet into light shoes so she did not have to waste time with boots.
Her brother insisted she had nothing to fear from Brookshire. After all, he was a vampire.
Still, she was ready to run—or defend herself—as two men emerged from one of the gilt-trimmed doors that led to the foyer. Her time with Raven had given her courage.
She had explained everything to Harry: about Ravenhunt kidnapping her, protecting her, saving her life, then being willing to die to take her power and give her a normal life.
The Earl of Brookshire stalked toward her, accompanied by another blond gentleman who looked so much like him, they had to be brothers. An elegant auburn-haired lady hurried down the stairs, holding up the hem of her green silk gown. A young girl pursued her, waist-length golden-red curls bouncing.
Lady Brookshire stopped midway down, staring at Ophelia with wide green eyes. Her gaze went to Harry, lingering there for moments. A dazzling smile illuminated her face. She reached out with a pale, elegant hand, and drew the child to her side, stroking the girl’s small shoulder.
“Goodness, Darlington, you have found your sister. This is remarkable. And wonderful!”
Ophelia had seen female vampires at Mrs. Darkwell’s house. Lady Brookshire was one of the most beautiful ones she’d ever seen. Her pale skin glowed, almost like starlight. Her lips were full and red, her hair a rich auburn that gleamed like flame. She looked so friendly Ophelia felt instantly she could trust Lady Brookshire.
“I just rescued Ophelia from the house of a vampire—” Harry broke off and his cheeks went red. “My apologies, Lady Brookshire, I meant a vampire who is not part of the Royal Society. He is a dangerous predator. It turns out that my fiancée did not lose her brother in battle. He was turned by Queen Jade.”
“This sounds complicated.” Lady Brookshire came down the stairs and approached Ophelia. She clasped Ophelia’s hand. “I believe I see a robe underneath your cloak, and I suspect you have run away from somewhere in your nightclothes.”
“Well . . .” Her cheeks heated as swiftly as her brother’s. “That is sort of what happened. I don’t have any clothes.”
“I have to rescue my fiancée,” Harry declared. “Will you allow Ophelia to stay here, where she will be safe? There are men of the Royal Society who have tried to hurt her.”
“What is this?” Brookshire demanded. “Men of the Royal Society?”
“I don’t have time to explain, Brookshire. I have to get to Frederica. Queen Jade has taken Ravenhunt’s sister prisoner. They are threatening to kill her.”
“This is an attack on you?” Brookshire demanded of Harry.
“No,” Ophelia cried. “It is all because of me. I had a power—a wretched power that kills people—and others want it. A vampire queen wants it. Someone hired Mr. Ravenhunt to kidnap me to take my power for them. I don’t know who, but I think it was men of your Royal Society. But now the queen has taken Ravenhunt’s sister as a hostage to ensure she gets the power.”
She looked at them all. They must think her mad. “There’s so much to explain, but there isn’t time. I need to dress. Ravenhunt is going to sacrifice himself for his sister. He wants to do it, but I don’t want to let him. I want to save him, but I need to have clothes. I need to go with you, Harry, to the vampire queens.”
“Which queen is it?” the second blond man asked.
“That is my husband’s brother, Mr. Sebastian de Wynter,” Lady Brookshire explained. “Now we must move quickly. You come with me, Lady Ophelia, and I will find you clothing. The men can determine which queen this is and how to carry out a rescue.”
Lady Brookshire spoke soothingly, and she put her hand on Ophelia’s back and guided her toward the stairs. But Ophelia balked. There was one logical reason they were leaving the men to discuss things—to arrange for her to be left behind.
“I must go, too,” Ophelia cried. “No one else would try to save Ravenhunt.” And Ravenhunt would be the least likely to try to save himself.
“Of course, you will go.” Lady Brookshire looked up and locked gazes with her husband.
“It’s too dangerous,” Harry insisted.
“It would be wiser for her to stay here,” Brookshire began.
“You know what women are like, my dear husband,” her ladyship said softly. “We will go, so there is no point trying to sneak away. You will all be in grave danger if you do.”