“Storm must have caught Lady Brooke’s scent,” Gabriel suggested with a sigh as he came through the door.
“After two weeks? It’s more likely the house, one they’re not used to. They’ll settle down as soon as they’ve sniffed out every corner.”
Willis finally cleared his throat to say stoically, “Welcome back, m’lord.”
But then they heard a screech upstairs and Anna’s alarmed cry. “What are two wolves doing in my house?!”
Dominic yelled up, “Actually, Mother, there are three of us here.”
Anna appeared around the upstairs corner so delighted to see Dominic back in London that she rushed down the stairs to hug him. She was apparently fully recovered, dressed fashionably, cheeks blooming with health instead of fever. He should be pleased. He would be, if he weren’t still so angry at her.
He returned her embrace, but quite stiffly. “The animals are just large dogs from the moors. I brought back the white one because it’s Brooke’s pet and I need to return it to her.”
Anna stepped back to peer at him hopefully. “Dom, have—”
He cut in curtly, “If you’ll excuse us, Gabe and I need a whiskey after the long ride today.”
He led Gabriel into the parlor and closed the door on his mother. He simply wasn’t ready to talk to her yet, but he did need a drink. Pouring them each one, he raised his for a telling toast. “To bad luck: I’m forced by the Prince Regent to marry my enemy’s sister. Worse luck: I fall in love with her. Worst luck: My mother interferes, the Regent retracts his decree, and I lose the woman I love.”
Gabriel refused to drink to that. “You’ll win her back.”
“Maybe now that I have Storm on my side. But even if I do, I have less than a year to live to enjoy her.”
“You don’t really believe in that stupid old curse, Dom!”
“I didn’t used to. But now with this recent string of horrendous luck on top of Ella’s death and my father’s premature demise, I’m beginning to wonder....”
“Well, stop wondering. There is no curse. I know because... because I’m the one who’s supposed to kill you.”
Dominic raised a brow. “Kill me? Are you trying to make me laugh? I think you’ve found a winner of a distraction from my misery, Gabe. Much appreciated.”
“As much as I’d like to accommodate, no. You might want to sit down.”
“You might want to explain a little faster.”
“It’s that bloody curse,” Gabriel said in disgust. “And it’s not even yours. The only curse you have ismyfamily, and it’s been mostly believed since it was screamed in the 1500s by that damned ancestor of mine, Bathilda Biscane. She was the one who was mistress to the first Viscount Rothdale. The village priest at the time, another relative of mine, had already believed her to be a witch. How else could she have bedazzled her way into a noble’s bed if not by casting a spell on him? But the priest couldn’t get at her while she was under their lord’s protection—until the night she came home to the village in tears. He immediately accused her and sentenced her to burn, but before they could get her to the stake, she cursed her own family, promising that if a Biscane firstborn doesn’t kill every titled Wolfe firstborn from that day forward, and before the end of their twenty-fifth year, thenallof their firstborns will die instead. And she killed herself in front of them, screaming those words and using her own blood to seal the curse.”
“And you believe that?”
“That it happened that way, yes. But some of my relatives believed the curse. Soon after Bathilda’s baleful theatrics, many Biscanes moved away, some because they didn’t want any part of the witch’s evil incantations, some because they knew it was superstitious nonsense. Over the next century the curse became a secret that was passed down from the firstborn male of one generation to the firstborn male of the next. Only he could do the deed.”
“And you’re a firstborn,” Dominic said flatly.
“Yes. Arnold didn’t relay the secret to me until the night you got that note about your mother’s illness and Arnold knew I would be following you to London. He wanted me to act before you married Lady Brooke, so your line would end for good and they can stop committing murder.”
“Arnold told you all this? My head groom wants to kill me?”
Gabriel nodded. “He’s the eldest living Biscane in Rothdale, my mother’s eldest brother. He’s terrified that Peter, Janie, and I will die if you don’t before the end of this year. He had hoped you wouldn’t live this long, which was why he waited so long to tell me I was next in line to kill you. I tried to ram some sense into his head, but he was quite anguished to see you alive when we returned to Rothdale last week.”
“You know I’m having trouble believing any of this. Are you sure he wasn’t pulling your leg?”
“Do you really think he would have let me leave Rothdale with a story like that if he wasn’t serious?”
“I suppose not.” Dominic moved to refill his glass, but swung around with the thought. “My father?”
“No! Actually, Arnold assured me that no Biscane still living has killed anyone, not that they weren’t prepared to. But all the more recent viscounts, not counting your father, had bad luck with their children, losing their first either at birth or in childhood. But my ancestors have killed some of yours. The gruesome stock I come from, I’m so ashamed!”
Anna tsked as she opened the door and stepped just inside. “As well you should be, Gabriel Biscane.”
