Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 1) (21 page)

“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. Not 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.”

Once outside, Elliot grabbed his arm. “You’ll not be able to follow on horseback. It’s too far, the risk too great. My carriage is equipped for such eventualities. We won’t need to stop come dawn.”

It was as though giant hands were squeezing all of the air out of his lungs. An image of a golden-haired woman with devil hands flooded his mind. “You … you want me to ride in your carriage?”

“There’s no other way.”

Chapter 22

The familiar sight of Mytton Grange brought memories of Alexander flooding back. That night, when he’d stumbled upon her swimming in the river, when the touch of his hand had sent a rush of longing through her body, that night she’d felt a soul-deep connection that went beyond anything she had ever felt before.

Evelyn knew he could hear her thoughts. Perhaps it was a form of intuition. Perhaps their joining had strengthened the connection, which was why she’d spent the whole journey calling out to him. He would hear her silent plea; she was convinced of it, and so she closed her eyes and conjured a vivid image of her surroundings, infused it with love and passion.

“I never thought we’d get here,” Mr. Sutherby said disturbing her vision. “This windy weather is playing havoc with the roads. It has been the same for more than a week.”

He spoke in his usual affable manner, as though they were a married couple returning home after a long and arduous journey. The illusion was instantly shattered when she glanced down to see his hand still gripping the handle of a hunting knife as it lay in his lap.

He moved his hand to pick up the length of rope at his side, twisting and wrapping it around into a loop before reaching across the carriage to grab her wrist. Evelyn fought him, kicked and struggled. The act was a way of showing her defiance even though she knew her efforts were in vain. She darted for the door, but the cold metal at her throat forced her back into her seat.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, his eyes all soft and angelic as he lowered the blade. “I want you to be happy. I want to see the smile that always warms my heart, the kindness that made me love you.”

He dared to speak of love. After all he’d put her through, the man was quite clearly deranged.

“Then let me go. Let me ride back to London, and we need never mention it again.” Her words carried an element of urgency, rang of desperateness.

Sutherby gave a pitying smile, the sort given to sick children and injured animals. “You know I cannot do that. But when we are married—”

“While there’s still breath in my body, that’s never going to happen.”

“You will change your mind when you see what I have planned for the evening.”

The evening?

Evelyn glanced out of the carriage window, at the sun making its morning ascent. She had a whole day to find a way to escape from this lunatic. Stony Cross was but a few miles away. She would find her way there and wait for Alexander to come to her.

With the knife in his hand, he threw the rope into her lap. “Thread you hand through the loop.”

Evelyn shook her head. “Why?”

“I thought we could go for a stroll around the grounds. Talk of our plans. But it would only spoil the moment if you were to run away.”

“Do you think this is any way to treat the woman you wish to marry?”

Sutherby snorted. “I have done everything you’ve ever asked of me … been polite, cordial. I have looked upon you like a delicate flower … rare and precious. Yet you snub me in preference for your rude and arrogant friend, the Earl of Hale.”

At the mere mention of his name her heart blossomed. “That is love, sir. It cannot be manipulated. It is not blind to one’s faults. Love sees the truth in everything and accepts it for what it is.” She took a deep breath and found the courage to continue. “Your protestations are feigned. Your charity is born of selfishness and as such you do not have the capability to love.”

Unperturbed by her words, he said. “But you will teach me. You will show me what I need to do to be a good husband. I am tired of wandering this world aimlessly. I need to settle with someone kind and good-natured.”

“But I will never love you.”

Sutherby shrugged. “What is love but folly?” He grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand through the loop, pulling it hard until the braided strands dug into her skin. “Come, there is nothing finer than a morning stroll to enliven the spirit.”

They strolled around the garden, him pulling on the rope as though she was a disobedient dog that refused to keep up. He’d have to release her at some point, and she would bide her time until presented with an opportunity to escape.

“This would make a marvellous place to raise a family,” Sutherby said looking out across the vast expanse of patchwork fields.

Evelyn preferred the view to the south, the thick blanket of trees, so dark and welcoming. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, imagining the scent of damp earth and pine, the sort of smell that cleanses the soul. She recalled the night she trailed through the forest after Alexander, his lantern lighting the way. He’d been cold and distant, nothing like the man she’d given herself to under the cherry tree.

Mr. Sutherby tugged the rope forcing her to open her eyes and follow. “I believe children should be raised in the countryside, not amongst the filth and grime of the city,” he said leading her back towards the house.

“I don’t want children.” Her words were blunt to drive home the point that she was not a willing partner in this ridiculous charade.

“You will change your mind.”

The coachman was engaged in tending to the horses. Luckily, there was hay in the stables, and he’d managed to pump clean water. Making their way in through the kitchen, Sutherby rooted around in cupboards and baskets but found nothing.