Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood 1)

Oh, she’d taken that first leap; she’d fluttered her wings and soared through the air, carried on a breeze of resplendent pleasure. Only, her wings were not as strong as she’d thought and she had come crashing back down to reality.

Mrs. Harlow was right. Everyone needed support at some time. Aunt Beatrice had been there for her when her parents had died, and she couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to be alone.

Alexander had suffered, too. Only he’d had no one to turn to. And so he had shut himself away from the world and barred the door to all visitors.

After her bitter betrayal, she doubted he would ever smile again. And he looked so handsome with laughter flashing in his eyes. The thought brought to mind his reaction to her tipping pond water over her head, to the way his eyes twinkled as he picked algae from her hair.

Another wonderful memory that would crumble to dust if Lord Markham wished it so.

“Never mind, miss,” Mrs. Harlow said mistaking her forlorn expression. “You’ll soon be on your way home. You’re brother said you’ll be leaving for London this very night.”

Soon she’d be in London and then thousands of miles away in India. Poor Aunt Bea must be so worried. Her thoughts turned to the man responsible for causing her misery. She’d not even thought to ask what had happened to Mr. Sutherby.

“Some ladies don’t like to travel in the dark,” Mrs. Harlow continued, “not through the forest.”

“Oh, I don’t mind the dark. I find it peaceful, magical almost. I always struggle to settle at night. If I had my way I would sleep away the day.”

Mrs. Harlow narrowed her gaze. “Well, all folks are different I suppose.”

The night is my home. It is where I belong.

Alexander’s words flooded her mind. The night was where she belonged, too. But she had let him down. He would never forgive her, never trust her again.

Perhaps she could try—try to understand him, to help him, to love him.

Hope blossomed in her chest.

Any life without him was not a life worth living. She had to be with him. She would give up her days to slumber, spend her nights in his company.

She would give up everything for him.

A tap on the door disturbed her dreams and Mrs. Harlow eased out of the chair and answered it. Evelyn heard her muttered protests and groans of discontent.

“I’ll be but a few minutes,” she said, already halfway out of the door. “Someone’s asking for a hot supper, and I swear that girl’s never set foot in a kitchen her entire life. Now lock this door behind me.”

As Evelyn turned the key, she was suddenly hit with a deep pang of sorrow, a heart-wrenching sense of anguish. It wasn’t her own pain she was feeling.

Eve.

The word resonated like an ear-piercing cry. He needed her.

“Alexander,” she whispered, her trembling fingers unlocking the door. “I’m coming.”

Chapter 25

“You let Sutherby go!” Alexander thrust his arms behind his back for fear of lashing out. “What the hell were you thinking? The man deserves to swing for what he’s done.”

“Well, I didn’t just let him go,” Elliot said with a mischievous grin. He picked up the glass from the side table and sipped the blood. “I used a little mind magic. He’s probably wandering the woods looking for fairies. I convinced him his life was dependent upon rescuing a hundred and he’s only got a week to achieve the task.”

Alexander paced back and forth in front of the fire. Being back at Stony Cross reminded him of Eve. Her presence lingered in the hallways, in his parlour, in his study. When he’d ventured into the garden, his mind conjured her image watching him from the upstairs window, and he called out her name in his grief.

“And you think that a fitting punishment for kidnap and whatever else he intended to do?”

“I was thinking of Miss Bromwell’s precarious reputation,” Elliot said with a hint of frustration. “She’ll be ruined if word of this gets out. Besides, someone had to tend to Sutherby’s wound. Someone had to ensure he remembered nothing of how he came by it.”

Alexander brushed his hand through his hair. “And for that I’m grateful. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I left you there with him. I didn’t thank you for dealing with his coachman.” The only thing on his mind had been the look of sheer terror on Eve’s face. He’d felt her fear like the slash of a sword, slicing through his stomach, his guts spilling out onto the floor.

It was his fault. He should have told her before. He should have controlled his urges.