Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 1)

by Adele Clee

Alexander snatched the letter from her hand and ignored her shriek and look of horror. His gaze darted to his name signed fraudulently at the bottom of the missive.

  “Bloody hell,” he said, unable to suppress his frustration as he continued reading. He silenced her aunt’s muttered objection by raising his hand.

  “Well?” she asked when he’d finally finished. “What have you to say?”

  “I can assure you, Mrs. Penrose, I did not write this letter,” he said almost thrusting it in her face. “Why would I need to see Miss Bromwell when you had already invited me to supper? As I mentioned last night, I had a prior engagement and could not possibly have met with her today.”

  “Then what dastardly deed is this, my lord?” she implored. “And if you’re ignorant of it, why arrive here as if the Devil were chasing your heels?”

  What the hell was he supposed to say? He could hardly tell the woman that he’d heard her niece calling to him by way of a silent plea. That no matter where she was, he was connected to her now — for always, forever.

  “Because I have recently discovered the depth of Mr. Sutherby’s deviousness,” he said, angry with himself for not mentioning it to Eve when he had the chance. “The gentleman has no money and cannot pay the rent on any of the properties he’s leased. His creditors are all but hammering on his door. Hence, his intention to marry Miss Bromwell and claim her sizable inheritance.” He chose not to divulge the truth behind Sutherby’s relationship with Charlotte or whatever her blasted name was. “Hence, his bid to compromise her in the garden.”

  Mrs. Penrose stared at him, her mouth hanging open. “But there is no inheritance. I mean, Evelyn has an income of a few hundred pounds a year, but she received it immediately upon her parents’ death. She will inherit nothing more when she marries. The manor and all the surrounding land was entailed.”

  Alexander brushed his hand through his hair and scratched his head. “Then why does Sutherby think she’s an heiress?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, Sutherby must have written the letter. He is the only other person, other than Lord Markham, who knows what happened in the garden last night.”

  “But what would he hope to achieve by it? Do you think he intends to demand a ransom?”

  Alexander had no idea what the man was capable of. But the longer he stood conversing with her aunt, the longer Eve was alone with Sutherby.

  “Whatever Sutherby’s plan, you must trust me to find your niece and bring her home safely. I would like to keep the letter if I may.”

  Mrs. Penrose nodded. “You have saved us both on occasion, my lord, and I trust you will come to her rescue again.”

  “I assure you, I will not return without her,” he said grabbing his hat before heading out of the door.

  Mounting his horse, Alexander’s first thought was to ride directly to Sutherby’s house on Half Moon Street; although the man would have to be an idiot to take Evelyn somewhere so close to home. Sutherby must have hired the carriage he used to transport Evelyn to some unknown destination. With his finances in such a sorry state, the act was a sure sign of desperation.

  And desperate men did desperate things.

  An image of Evelyn lying bound and gagged flashed through his mind, and he clenched his jaw as he dug his heels in and raced towards Elliot’s house in Portman Square.

  When he eventually found Evelyn, he would need a carriage to bring her home. When he found her, he would need someone to stop him from ripping the scoundrel’s throat out.

  As Alexander rode into Portman Square, he found Elliot standing on the pavement next to his carriage, examining his pocket watch beneath the light of the lamp. He looked up and gave Alexander a nod before dismissing the liveried footmen. With numerous gestures to the crest on the door, his coachman climbed down from his box.

  “I need your help,” Alexander panted not bothering to jump down from his horse. He glanced at the carriage. “You’re not going out?”

  “I’ve been waiting,” Elliot said putting his watch away. “I knew you’d come. And the only place I'm going tonight is with you.”

  The coachman rolled out two pieces of cloth with metal brackets sewn onto the ends and proceeded to cover Markham’s crest by clipping them onto the doors.

  “How did you know I’d be coming?”

  Elliot threw his hands up and shrugged. “Usually, I struggle to hear people’s thoughts when I'm not in the immediate vicinity. But for some bizarre reason, I could feel your pain. I’ve been pacing for the last hour, wondering what the hell was going on. I told Gibbs to ready my carriage, yet I have no notion where we are going.”

  “Miss Bromwell is missing.” Alexander steadied his horse, the animal sensing his agitation. “She received a note, supposedly signed by my hand.”

  “But you think it was Sutherby.”

  “Who else? I should have put an end to all of this last night.”

  Elliot smirked. “You mean you did not tell Miss Bromwell the news when you called on her again?”

  “Well, no.” He was an idiot, a selfish fool. He reached into his coat pocket and removed the letter. “Here, read this.”

  There was a moment of silence before Elliot blurted, “But she met him almost five hours ago.” The trace of panic in his voice hit Alexander like a hard blow to the stomach. “They could be anywhere. On the road to Scotland, heading towards the south coast … anywhere.”

  Alexander felt the blood drain from his face. Finding them would be an impossible task, he knew that, but he would just have to follow his instincts.

  “I’ll meet you at Sutherby’s house on Half Moon Street,” Alexander said, folding the letter and putting it back in his pocket. “I doubt he’ll have taken her there, but we may find some clue as to his intention.”

  Elliot nodded. “Very well. I think we know his motivation is money. He’ll not harm her, not when he sees her as a commodity.”

  “Am I supposed to feel reassured?”

  “We’ll find her,” Elliot said firmly. He glanced at Alexander’s horse. “I’ll call a boy to stable your horse.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I prefer to ride.”

  “What’s the matter? Frightened I might bite you.”

  The words were said in jest, yet he felt a frisson of fear at the memory of the devil woman’s closed carriage, fear that quickly turned to anger. “In my haste to find Miss Bromwell, I’ve not sated my hunger this evening. There’s every chance I’d drain you dry. Now, shut the hell up and follow me to Sutherby’s.”

  They entered the house using the same method as the previous night. As they stood in the kitchen, the image of Sutherby’s naked buttocks balancing on the edge of the table flashed into his mind, and he kicked the blasted thing in a bid to release his frustration.

  “Be quiet,” Elliot whispered, hitting him on the arm.

  “Why?”

  “What if you’re wrong, and Sutherby comes down and finds us in here. Despite covering my crest, someone will have noticed us coming in.”

  “I’m not wrong, and I don’t give a damn who notices us.”

  Alexander stomped off through the basement and climbed the stairs to the ground floor. He was rummaging through the desk in the study when Elliot entered.

  “Other than an old newspaper, there’s nothing in any of the rooms down here. They feel cold and desolate as though no one has lived here for months. Did you find anything of interest in here?”

  “Not a blasted thing. All the drawers were open. I found some letters, but nothing relating to Sutherby. If that’s even his name.”

  Elliot folded his arms across his chest. “Did Sutherby have any friends here in Town? Perhaps we could find them and torture them for information.”

  Alexander shook his head. “Not that I know of.” He was not adverse to torture, not where Sutherby was concerned. “I’ve only ever seen him with his sister, or his lover or whoever the hell she is.”

  “At least we know Miss Bromwell is not here.
I do not feel any remnants of her presence. But then you would be a better judge of that.” Elliot paused, narrowed his gaze and glanced up at the ceiling. “However, I believe someone is here. Listen.”

  Alexander stared at a point in the far corner of the room as he honed his senses. The faint melody resonated through the house: high-pitched humming accompanied by the odd string of words. The country tune was barely audible, and he crept over to Elliot and led him to the bottom of the stairs.

  “It’s coming from the room above the study,” he whispered, jabbing his finger up and to the left.

  “Sounds like a woman’s voice,” Elliot said moving up a few steps and peering through the balusters. “The chamber door is closed.”

  Climbing stealthy to the top, they padded across the landing to stand outside the door.

  It was definitely a woman, although she sounded far too cheerful to be Evelyn. They listened for a moment but heard no one else.

  “Perhaps it’s Charlotte Sutherby?” Elliot whispered.

  They heard splashing and the slow trickle of water. Elliot’s hand hovered over the door handle.

  Alexander grabbed his wrist. “Wait. If I … if I lose control, I need you to stop me. If you see my eyes darken. If you see me flex my jaw …”

  Elliot smiled. “Trust me. Based on what I expect to find beyond this door, I believe I’ll be the one losing control. If you see me unbutton my breeches, then you’ll know it’s time to act.”

  Chapter 21

  Alexander followed Elliot into the room. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but instinct told him it wouldn’t be Evelyn. The shocking sight caused them both to stop abruptly.

  “You took your time,” Charlotte Sutherby said. She was standing in a small tin bath with her back to them, her honey-gold hair draped over one shoulder as she massaged soap all over her naked body.

  The scene left him cold, but he could hear the wild, chaotic train of Elliot’s thoughts. Feeling tension emanate from his friends body, he could only imagine his physical reaction to the enticing vision.

  The lady bent down and swished her cloth in the water before ringing it out over her neck and shoulders, offering a pleasurable hum at the sensation. In the muted light, her silhouette appeared softer, her skin bathed in a peachy-cream glow.

  “Bloody hell,” Elliot whispered.

  “Well?” she said, “Did you do what I asked? Did you call on Miss Bromwell and offer an apology?”

  When neither of them answered, she glanced casually over her shoulder. The ear-piercing shriek made him wince, and the woman almost jumped out of the tub in shock.

  “What … what the hell are you doing in here? How did you get in?” After numerous failed attempts to use her arms to protect her modesty, she crouched down, her gaze darting to the garment hanging on the door of the armoire. “Get out! Get out, I said.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Elliot strode over to the crude wooden chair in the corner of the room and moved it to the other side of the tub. Flicking out the tails of his coat, he sat down and continued to admire the view. “Not until you’ve told us everything you know.”

  “Know? About what?”

  Despite feeling like a randy schoolboy peeping on his maid, Alexander stepped closer. “Sutherby’s left. He isn’t coming back.”

  When she shot up and swung around with a gasp, Elliot sucked in a breath. “You appear to be suffering from the cold. Shall I heat more water?”

  She ducked down again. “What do you mean, he’s not coming back?”

  Alexander gritted his teeth. “We’ve not come here to answer your questions.”

  “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Elliot said crossing his legs out in front of him. “But your gentleman friend has kidnapped Miss Bromwell.”

  Her gazed darted back and forth between them. “Kidnapped her? With what? A hawker’s barrow.” Clutching her arms to her chest, she turned to Elliot and wiggled her fingers at the armoire. “Hand me my wrapper.”

  “In a moment.” A lascivious grin played at the corners of Elliot’s mouth. “You’ll get your wrapper when you’ve told us what we need to know … Julia.”

  She gasped, her eyes wide and fearful. “How … how do you know?”

  “We’re wasting time,” Alexander said, suppressing the feeling of hopelessness. As the minutes ticked by, Evelyn slipped further and further away from him. If he lost her, he’d have nothing left. He marched over to the tub, ignoring Miss Sutherby’s state of undress. “Where the hell has he taken her?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

  “Sutherby, or Henry or whatever his blasted name is, has tricked Miss Bromwell into thinking she was meeting me. She climbed into a carriage with him at three and has not been seen since.”

  Her face turned pale, ashen and her bottom lip almost hit the water. After a brief moment of silence, her wide eyes narrowed, and she jumped up from her bath like Poseidon charging out of the sea.

  With no thought to her modesty, she thrust her hands on her hips. “Why, the blackguard … the rogue … the sneaky little … ugh! If he means to cut me out, I’ll … I’ll … ugh.”

  “Cut you out of what?” Alexander boomed.

  “Out of the inheritance.” She stepped out of the water, grabbed her wrapper and began pacing as she thrust her arms into the sleeves. Alexander could have sworn he heard Elliot sigh. “He told me he would go and see Miss Bromwell, to smooth things over after his pathetic display in Lady Westbury’s garden. I assumed it had gone well, and he’d stayed for dinner. Why, the little weasel.”

  Alexander’s blood raged through his veins. He wanted to grab her, shake the life from her, punish her for the part she’d played in this dastardly charade.

  “There is no inheritance,” he said, his words full of contempt. “You have made a mistake.”

  She stopped pacing and turned to face him, a frown marring her brow. “But that’s impossible. Mr. Smythe said she was to inherit the sum of five thousand upon marriage, plus a monthly allowance from her father’s estate.”

  “Mr. Smythe?” Elliot asked.

  “The solicitor we … Henry paid for access to the files. He said her father was a wealthy plantation owner and sugar merchant.”

  While Alexander struggled to keep his hands at his sides, Elliot burst into fits of laughter.

  “I hardly think this is a time for joviality,” Alexander said. Murder was the only thought on his mind.

  It took Elliot a moment to catch his breath. “I don’t believe it,” he said, putting his hand to his chest before dabbing at the corners of his eyes. “The lady you’re talking about is Miss Bordwell.”

  Miss Sutherby looked aghast. “Miss Bordwell? You mean the dumpling of a girl with the turned up nose?”

  Elliot sucked in a breath. “Someone must have … must have made an error at the solicitor’s office.”

  Miss Sutherby turned to Alexander. “You mean Miss Bromwell is not an heiress?”

  “No, she’s not. Now tell me where the hell Sutherby has taken her so I can wring his blasted neck.”

  “So that means Henry is going to marry Miss Bromwell for nothing.” Miss Sutherby looked delighted and even clapped her hands. “Serves the devil right.”

  “Tell me where the hell she is.” Alexander shouted so loud, soot fluttered down the chimney and landed in the grate. He was tired of waiting, tired of listening. Fear clawed away at his heart, and his head felt thick and heavy.

  Elliot stood and stepped forward. “My guess is they’re on their way to Scotland. It is the only logical course of action. Sutherby believes he needs to marry her to get his hands on the money. He must have hired the carriage to take them north and across the border.”

  Alexander agreed with his assessment. Sutherby’s only motivation was money, and he was convinced Evelyn was an heiress. But even if Sutherby was foolish enough to stop at a coaching inn, they’d never catch up with him. No
t when their journey would be encumbered by the daylight hours.

  A feeling of despair settled around him.

  “We’re just wasting time here,” he said. “Let’s —”

  “Perhaps you’re mistaken. Henry hasn’t got the money to hire a carriage,” Miss Sutherby interjected. “I’d managed to put some money away, but he didn’t know—”

  She stopped abruptly and rushed over to the bed. Using her back, she pushed the frame a few inches and scratched away at the floorboard.

  “No!” she cried, opening the small wooden box and finding it empty. With a mournful wail, she tipped it upside down and shook it violently. “I’ll kill him.”

  “Perhaps we should take her with us?” Elliot said jerking his head towards the hunched figure on the floor. “We can’t hand her over to the authorities. There’s no evidence she’s committed a crime, and it would only serve to embarrass Miss Bromwell.”

  Upon hearing their conversation, she shot to her feet and rushed to Elliot’s side. “Take me with you. I could help you find him. I could act as a decoy. Then I’ll string him up by his fancy cravat and leave him for the crows.”

  We may need to drink from her.

  Elliot’s words echoed through his mind. He’d rather die than submit to his depravity. He’d made a pact with himself never to drink directly from the source.

  Never!

  “Take me with you,” she reiterated.

  Alexander considered the request. It had taken a tremendous amount of effort to curb his temper. In a state of ravenous hunger, it would be nigh on impossible. Besides, to assist Miss Sutherby in any way would feel like a betrayal.

  “We’ll leave her here,” he said firmly. He turned to Miss Sutherby, his tone revealing the anger brimming inside. “If you’ve got any sense you’ll pack your things and be gone by the time we return. If I set eyes on you again, I will not be responsible for my actions. These may be the clothes of a gentleman, but beneath them you’ll find a monster.”

  Miss Sutherby put her hand to her mouth and stepped back, her eyes flashing with fear.

  Alexander turned and strode to the door. “Come, we should be on our way.”