Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood 1)

“I might go out into the garden to read. It’s such a nice day. I’ll wear a long-sleeved walking dress just in case it gets a bit cold.”

The maid didn’t question her choice, and Evelyn didn’t mention wearing the yellow Spencer.

Just before three o’clock, she went out into the garden with both her book and a blanket in hand. The blanket served to disguise her jacket, and she draped it over her arm until she reached the cherry tree.

Memories of their illicit encounters came flooding back. The image of Alexander sitting beneath the tree caused desire to unfurl. If she closed her eyes, she could smell his earthy, masculine scent. She could hear his ragged breath and almost feel it breezing against her skin. The combination only served to heighten the need to see him, to touch him and she practically threw the blanket and book on the ground in order to fasten her jacket.

Checking over her shoulder, she snuck out through the mews and hurried along the pavement towards the unmarked carriage waiting near the corner of Bury Street.

Upon witnessing her approach, the coachman lowered his head. “Are you here for the Earl of Hale?” he said, jowls of fatty flesh wobbling as he spoke.

Evelyn nodded, and the man climbed down, his heavy frame blocking her entrance as he opened the carriage door and lowered the steps. Moving to the right, he held his hand out and gestured inside.

The carriage blinds had been drawn and so the interior appeared darker than she was expecting. It was then that she noticed the pair of black Hessian boots.

“Alexander?” she said mounting the last step and ducking through the door. “I thought you said you refused to … omph!”

The coachman pushed her inside, threw up the steps and slammed the door.

“Alexander. What on earth is going on?”

Evelyn felt a hand at her elbow as the occupant helped her to her seat. The carriage lurched forward, and the gentleman raised the blind before removing his top hat.

“Forgive my heavy-handedness, Miss Bromwell, but I’m afraid you left me with no other choice.”

“Mr. Sutherby!” Evelyn gasped.

Chapter 20

Alexander rode through the streets as though the buildings were about to come crashing down around him. Carriages swerved to avoid him; the irate curses and loud jeering did not deter him from his course and he almost trampled straight over a man pushing his knife-sharpening cart.

Please hurry, Alexander! Please find me.

The words echoed through his mind once more, rebounding back to cause a sharp pain in his heart. The plea sounded desperate, yet oddly calm and he didn’t know what the hell to make of it. Beads of perspiration trickled down his brow. Every muscle in his body felt hard, pulled taut. Panic flared again, restricting his airways as he struggled to shake the feeling that something disastrous had happened.

Fearing there was no time to ride round to the mews, he tethered his horse to the railings outside Evelyn’s house and vaulted the few steps leading up to the front door.

His incessant banging produced the desired effect as the butler’s heels clipped at a hurried pace towards the door.

“I need to speak with Miss Bromwell,” he said thrusting his hat at the man as he barged through the door. “I must speak with her now.”

“I’m afraid she is not at home.”

“Who is it, Radley? Who’s there? Is it Evelyn?”

Beatrice Penrose came darting out into the hall. She looked tired and weary. The red marks beneath her lower lids suggested she’d been weeping, and her anxious gaze sent a frisson of fear shooting straight through him.

“Lord Hale,” she gasped rushing forward to take his hand. The overfamiliar gesture confirmed his suspicion. “Tell me my niece is with you. Tell me this has all been a terrible misunderstanding.”

Alexander swallowed deeply as she released her grip, his throat felt dry as he tried to form the words. “You mean, Miss Bromwell is not here?”

Mrs. Penrose shook her head and dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her handkerchief. “No, my lord. She has been missing for hours.”

“Missing? How can she be missing?” he said, his tone revealing his anger and frustration at such utter incompetence.

“One minute she was in the garden reading, the next she was nowhere to be seen. She’s left her book and blanket under the cherry tree and has simply disappeared. We’ve searched the whole house.”

There had to be an explanation.