Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood 1)

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.