Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 1) (17 page)

Alexander strained to look over Elliot’s shoulder. “Surely you don’t store it in a decanter?”

“It’s fine for a few hours,” Elliot said as Alexander caught the familiar scent, heard the trickle of what he assumed was brandy. “My footman knows what I like, and I find it a much more gentlemanly ritual.”

“Do you not worry he’ll talk, expose your secret?”

“Not at all. I’m afraid he has the memory of a trout and forgets things easily.”

Alexander nodded.

“Here,” Elliot said handing him both glasses. “Try the brandy. It may lighten your mood.”

The golden brown liquid shimmered in the glass. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d drunk anything other than blood.

“You’re looking at it as though I’ve distilled it myself in a dank cellar. Try it.”

“I haven’t eaten or drunk anything in two years. The first time I tried to eat, I spewed all over my boots. The stomach cramps were enough to prevent me from attempting it again.”

Elliot gestured to the chairs. Alexander drained the glass of animal blood and placed it on the side table before sitting down. He cradled the brandy glass, warming it in his palms as he contemplated lifting it to his lips.

“If you asked Miss Bromwell to drink blood she’d retch,” Elliot said throwing himself into the chair opposite. “If she sipped it over a period of time, she’d grow accustomed to the taste. I’m not saying you won’t need blood. You’ll need it every day. I’m saying it makes it easier if you can appear to enjoy the same pleasures as other gentlemen.”

“I have no need to concern myself with appearances. I have no intention of remaining in London.”

“What of Miss Bromwell? You have obviously crossed the bounds of propriety. Her scent radiates from you. I find the smell of a woman’s sated desire far more potent than blood.”

The words roused images of Eve writhing in his lap and in a bid to rein in his rampant thoughts he took a sip of brandy — just enough to wet his lips. It stung the sensitive skin, and he found the sweet aftertaste too overpowering.

“I don’t know what to do about Miss Bromwell,” he said, surprised that he’d expressed his feelings to a relative stranger. “I almost confided in her tonight. I almost told her what I am.”

“I don’t think that’s wise, not yet at any rate. Life has a way of revealing the answer to our complex dilemmas when we least expect it. I suggest we concentrate on Mr. Sutherby for the time being.”

“We?”

Elliot raised his glass in a toast. “We are brothers, Alexander, whether you choose to accept it or not. Your problem is my problem. My secret is safe only as long as yours is and you would be wise to consider the welfare of both Leo and myself when you make any decisions.”

He could not argue with Elliot’s logic. “You said we should concentrate on Sutherby. You think he will become a nuisance?”

“I know so. What the gentleman says is not what he is thinking. I believe he has convinced himself he is in love with Miss Bromwell. I sense a desperation in him, a conflict. And his sister, well, that is another problem entirely.”

Alexander jerked his head back in surprise. “I admit to finding Miss Sutherby somewhat pretentious, but I sensed nothing definable.”

“Then I am being overcautious. Just pander to my whims.” Elliot sat forward. “Drink up, we need to go.”

“Where?”

“To Sutherby’s residence. To see what we can discover. Sutherby has undesirable motives, and I’m not convinced he will simply walk away.”

Alexander stood and placed his brandy on the mantle. “Why should it concern you? Miss Bromwell is my responsibility.”

“I’m surprised you need to ask. You’re in love with her. If anything should happen to Miss Bromwell, you’ll rip the throat out of everyone you meet. That concerns me.”

What was the point of protesting? What was the point of denying the truth? He knew he was in love with Evelyn Bromwell. Why else would he have come all the way to Town to parade about from ballroom to ballroom?

“Very well. I agree to accompany you to Sutherby’s residence. Do you have a plan? Or are we to knock on the door and force them to confess?”

Elliot stood and put a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way in.”

They walked the mile to Half Moon Street, the fifteen-minute journey dominated by hilarious tales of Elliot’s most recent conquests.

“When she began honking like a goose, I thought I would have to anchor her down for fear she might flap her arms and fly off the bed.”

Alexander thought back to his own licentious past. The encounters were meaningless and did nothing to fill the empty void in his chest. Elliot needed to discover the difference between bedding any available woman and bedding a woman he loved.

“I suppose it’s preferable to her howling like a dog,” Alexander said with a chuckle.

“Not at all. Dogs are far more adventurous with their tongues.”

As they passed the turning for Clarges Street, Elliot gripped Alexander’s arm, forcing him to stop. “We’ll have to go in through the servants’ entrance at the front of the house. Sutherby’s garden backs directly onto the Clarges Street gardens, and there’s no other access.”

“And what do we do once we’re inside the house?”

“We’ll figure that out once we know which room they are in.”

Elliot opened the wrought-iron gate, and they descended the stone steps to the basement.

“There’s no one in the kitchen,” Elliot said peeking through the window. “It’s dark. There are no candles burning. They must all be in bed.”

Alexander tried the door to find it locked. “We can’t break down the door. It will wake everyone up.” He glanced at the window, at the row of tiny square glass panes. “If we could get our hand through one of those panes we could raise the sash.”

Elliot examined the window. “Take off your coat. I’ll use it as padding to muffle the sound.”

“Use your own coat.”

Elliot’s gaze drifted over him. “Your coat is already crumpled from you earlier liaison. It seems only fair.”

With a tut and numerous sighs, Alexander removed his coat and watched as Elliot folded it, pressed it against the glass and used his elbow to shatter the pane.

“Make sure you shake it out before you put it back on,” Elliot said with an arrogant smile. “Although you’re more likely to find a worm crawling inside than a sharp piece of glass.”

Contorting his body, Elliot managed to twist his arm through the gap and once he’d pushed the sash up an inch, Alexander gripped the bottom to assist him.

They climbed through the window and stood in the middle of the kitchen.

“Something’s wrong here,” Elliot said glancing around the room.

A cold chill hung in the air and they stood in silence and scanned the walls, floor and furniture. Alexander noticed the loaf of bread on a board at the end of the table. He walked over, pulled off a chunk and popped it into his mouth before he could change his mind. It tasted hard, as dry as sawdust. The muscles in his stomach and chest spasmed and he spat it out onto the floor.

“Don’t start with bread,” Elliot said incredulously. “You need something more moist, something easier to digest. Besides, it looks like that’s all they’ve got to eat.”

Alexander walked over to the range, touched the iron door and top plate and peered inside. “It’s stone cold. It doesn’t look as though there’s been a meal prepared in days.”

Elliot wandered off down the corridor, and Alexander heard him open a door, walk a little further and open another door.

“There are no servants down here,” Elliot said returning to the kitchen. “I doubt there are any in the house.”

“Are you certain you have the right address?”

Elliot raised a brow. “I waited for them to leave and followed them home. They hired a hackney as soon as they’d left the square.”

“A hackney?”

Alexander recalled the conversation he’d had with the bridle thief at Mytton Grange. Sutherby hadn’t paid his servants, and there were no servants at this property, either.

“He’s obviously in debt.” Elliot glanced up at the ceiling and put his finger to his lips. “Did you hear that?”

Numerous footsteps accompanied the sound of voices drifting down the stairs, the noise getting progressively louder.

“Bloody hell,” Alexander whispered. “They’re coming down. Quick, close the sash.”

Elliot closed the window, wincing as he tried not to make any noise. “Outside,” he whispered, pointing to the door.

Alexander unlocked the door and took the key. “I’ll lock it from the outside.”

They plastered their backs against the wall, each standing on opposite sides of the window. The warm glow flickering against the glass was a sure sign someone had entered the kitchen.

They heard what sounded like pots banging, doors slamming. “What the hell am I supposed to eat? Even the street urchins would turn their noses up at this.”

They heard sighs and muttered curses.

“What are you complaining about now?” Miss Sutherby’s voice silenced her brother’s grumbling.

“There’s no food.”

“Of course, there is. There’s bread and fruit and a small chunk of cheese. I’m not a cook. I’m not a maid. Don’t expect me to wander the markets haggling for scraps.”

“Bread and cheese? I’d be fed better if I was locked up in Newgate.”

“And whose fault is that? Everything would have worked out perfectly if you’d not been so damn careless.”

“Me! You’re the one who told me to secure a betrothal. One way or another, you said.”

“Are you stupid? Miss Bromwell is far too intelligent to be won over with amorous kisses and moonlit liaisons.”

Alexander couldn’t help but form a smug grin. Eve loved nothing more than secret liaisons and passionate kisses — just not with Mr. Sutherby.

“I was desperate. I could have forced the deed had it not been for that devil Hale showing up.”

Anger erupted in Alexander’s gut, and his fingers pulsated as he imagined throttling the man.

Sensing his shift in mood, Elliot shook his head and waved his hands, a gesture to calm a volatile spirit.

“The Earl of Hale obviously has designs on her himself,” Miss Sutherby said. “You’ve seen his estate. It’s practically a ruin. I’m sure Miss Bromwell’s sizable inheritance will go a long way to securing his land for future generations.”

Elliot gave him a sidelong glance. “Inheritance?” he mouthed.

Alexander shrugged. Although Miss Bromwell and her aunt moved about in Society, they appeared to live quite modestly. They’d hired a carriage to bring them to Mytton Grange and boasted only a handful of servants. Unless all of her inheritance was payable upon marriage.

“Perhaps Hale is interested in more than her money. I’ve seen the way he looks at her. I mean she’s damnably pretty and always pleasant company.”

“I knew it,” Miss Sutherby exclaimed. “You’ve developed a liking for her. I’ve seen it in your eyes when you speak to her.”

“I have not.”

“You believe yourself in love with her.”

“I do not. Now you’re being ridiculous.”

“If you think you’re going to marry her and not share the money with me, then you can think again. I know enough to see you swing from the highest tree.”

“Miss Bromwell will not want to marry me now. Not after the debacle in the garden.”

“Well, you had better hope that she does. We owe rent on this house and at Mytton Grange, not mention the bill for the modiste, the tailors —”

“Perhaps we should just leave here and move on. What about York or Edinburgh?”

“Move on!” Miss Sutherby shrieked. “It will take months to find another heiress. What are we supposed to eat in the meantime, Scotch mist? You really do say the most pathetic things.”

“Why do you always treat me like a child? You take your role of sibling far too seriously.”

“One of us has to take control else we’ll end up in debtor’s prison.”

“Miss Bromwell never treats me like an idiot. She always smiles and nods and offers witty remarks. Perhaps I should just leave you and take my chances. You won’t say a thing. If I hang, so will you.”

“You … you know you don’t mean that.” There was a nervous edge to her tone. “Miss Bromwell may smile and laugh, but she is a respectable lady, full of purity and virtue. You know she cannot give you what you want. She will run away from you like a frightened little kitten, hide away in the corner mewling and licking her paws.”

The woman didn’t know Miss Bromwell very well at all.

“Then perhaps you should remember that you need me,” he said. “Without me, none of this would be possible. Perhaps you should start being a little kinder, more appreciative.”

“If you want kindness,” she said with a slow purr, “you shall have it.”

The room fell silent. Alexander glanced at Elliot, who threw his hands up and offered a shrug.

They heard a scraping sound: wood against the tiled floor, then a dull thud accompanied by Mr. Sutherby’s deep groan. Curiosity burning, Alexander couldn’t help but sneak a glance through the window.