Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood 1)

After scrubbing away the dirt and soaking her hands, she went to work on brushing out her hair. She must have spent an age on the task and Mrs. Shaw knocked to see if she still wanted supper.

“Do you happen to have any spare pins?” Evelyn asked. “So I can put up my hair.”

“There’s no one here who’d use such things.” Mrs. Shaw scanned Evelyn’s loose hair, a smile touching the corners of her lips. “There’s no one here to fuss neither, so you can come down as you are.”

Mrs. Shaw led her downstairs, to the room with the broken window, which had since been temporarily repaired with a piece of wood. “You sit here in front of the fire and get warm, and I’ll bring your supper to you.”

Despite the golden glow cast from the fire and an array of candles, the room felt dark and oppressive. It was like walking into Lucifer’s inner sanctum, and she peered about the room expecting to find the disagreeable earl lurking somewhere in the shadows. Thankfully, she was alone. And so she settled into the wingback chair, removed her boots and tucked her feet under her legs.

Mrs. Shaw brought in a simple platter of meat, cheese and bread. Either the earl had reduced the monthly allowance or he’d insisted the guests were not to be spoilt. Perhaps he feared they would try to prolong their stay, and he would be forced to be civil. Grateful for even the smallest morsel, Evelyn tucked in.

“Would you like more logs on the fire?” Mrs. Shaw said, placing a glass of wine on the low table in front of the chair.

Evelyn looked up at her in surprise, wondering if the earl knew his housekeeper had raided his cellar. “No, I’m quite warm. Thank you for the wine.”

“You’re welcome, miss. Well, I best go and check on your aunt.”

With that, the woman left her to her supper.

Despite the warmth radiating from the hearth and feeling content after supper, Evelyn still struggled to relax. The wine helped, the full-bodied claret was rich and soothing, and she curled up in the chair as her lids grew heavy. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little snooze. Not after the stressful events of the day.

Had she known she would dream of the earl, she would have taken a needle and thread and sewn her e

yelids to her brow.

No one could predict their dreams. Some dreams were dominated by a series of images, often fragmented, yet richly vivid. In this dream, she was still sitting in the chair, aware that the earl was in the room. Although she couldn’t see him as everything appeared to be black.

She felt his presence beside her, felt him take a lock of her hair between his fingers, heard him inhale. She felt his gaze drift over her face and body, leaving a warm trail in its wake. Then the soft pads of his fingers stroked her cheek with a level of tenderness she did not expect from such an odious being. When his thumb caressed the line of her lips, she woke with a start.

The gentleman responsible for her racing pulse was sitting in the chair opposite, his gaze dark and brooding as he stared at her over the rim of his wine glass.

“You’re sitting in my chair.”

Evelyn tried not to look flustered, but she felt hot, breathless. “You … you had no trouble finding another.”

“If you want to sleep, you have a room upstairs.”

A blush rose to her cheeks at the thought of him watching her in slumber. Why hadn’t he called Mrs. Shaw to wake her up? Why had he stayed to watch? Probably to annoy her, or give him a justifiable cause to complain.

“I was not sleeping. I was simply resting my eyes.”

He snorted and cradled the glass closer to his chest, the light from the floor-standing candelabra casting a glow over the deep-red liquid. “It is the same thing.”

“I’m sure you would argue with me no matter what I said.”

He took a sip from the glass, his gaze never leaving her. “Perhaps.”

Evelyn refused to be intimidated by his penetrating stare. What did it matter if he was mean and abrupt? There was a much more considerate man residing a few miles away. “I shall need to send word to Mytton Grange. Mr. Sutherby is expecting us.”

“Ah, Mr. Sutherby, your perfect gentleman. It has been taken care of. I expect his reply first thing.”

The conversation felt awkward, the atmosphere tense. He gave nothing of himself — no hint of warmth or emotion, no clue to the man hidden beneath the austere facade. In his desperation to be rid of her, he’d already written to Mr. Sutherby. This may well be the last time she’d see the Earl of Hale and the thought gave her the courage to be bolder.

“Well, I shall certainly be glad to leave. I have never spent time in the company of a gentleman so rude and unfeeling.”

“Unfeeling?” he said with a snort. “Did I not just save your aunt from death’s door? Was I not the one who stitched the wound?”

Evelyn was still baffled as to why such a cold man had taken the trouble. “I’m certain your motives were purely selfish.”