Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 1) (5 page)

The earl did not look offended. He simply raised his glass and said, “Then sleep well, Miss Bromwell. I have a feeling tomorrow will be a rather interesting day.”

Chapter 5

Evelyn gave a disgruntled sigh, plumped her pillow and cuddled into it. Sleep often eluded her. Her mind always chose the early hours to mull over the day’s events and the day had certainly given her a tremendous amount to contemplate.

Although she was loath to admit it, the earl was right. She did not love Mr. Sutherby.

It was a complicated dilemma.

Was it silly and naive to imagine one must love a man with all of their heart before agreeing to a lifelong commitment? Then again, perhaps marriage was the solid foundation needed for feelings to blossom and grow into the sort of love that lasts forever. Of course, it helped if the gentleman was kind, well-mannered and polite.

Her thoughts were drawn to the earl. His dark, oppressive mood made her angry, made her feel frustrated and confused as she struggled to try to understand him. Yet he had managed to peer into her soul as if it were an open window. One glance and he knew the fears and doubts hidden inside. Mr. Sutherby did fall short of her expectations. She didn’t love him, and there
was
a vital ingredient missing.

Damn the earl for interfering.

Damn him for being so perceptive.

Feeling the need to find a distraction, she climbed out of bed, rummaged through her luggage, the small trunk having been retrieved from the wreckage, and put on her wrapper. There was not much she could do in the middle of the night. But she’d sit and comfort her aunt who, despite being weak and lethargic, had regained consciousness.

The earl had been right about that, too.

Evelyn eased the door away from the jamb and crept out. For some reason, she stepped left instead of right, lured by the sight of the moon’s reflection shining through the window at the end of the hall. She’d spent many a sleepless night staring up at the moon. The vision created a stillness within, a feeling she belonged to something infinitely bigger, and it made her feel at peace.

Her feet carried her to the window before her mind conjured the thought, and she drank in the sight of the silver sphere set against the inky-black sky. Lost in thoughtful contemplation, she didn’t notice the earl at first. He stepped off the gravel path and walked towards what would have once been a decorative garden. The overgrown topiary spilled out onto the path, the water no longer flowed from the spouts on the fountain and the rose bushes were scraggy and unkempt.

Where could he be going at such an ungodly hour?

Without any warning, he swung around and punched the air. Evelyn jumped back into the shadows for fear of being seen. Had his anger reached such an uncontrollable level that he was forced to take his frustration outdoors?

Curiosity burning away inside, she edged back to the window and peeked out. She saw the earl sitting on a bench opposite the fountain. He was staring up at the moon as though the Lord had forsaken him and he was pleading for forgiveness; then he looked down and cradled his head in his hands.

Surely he wasn’t weeping?

A lump formed in Evelyn’s throat; a hollow cavern opened up in her chest. She fought the powerful urge to go to him, to ease his troubled mind, to find the good buried so deeply within. Struggling with a range of surprising emotions, she closed her eyes to calm the restlessness consuming her.

When she opened them again and found the courage to look out, she was not prepared for the shocking sight that greeted her.

The earl had stripped off his coat and cravat and was busy working on stripping off every other piece of clothing until he stood naked, bare as the day he was born. Beneath the celestial setting, his skin glistened with a silvery sheen, his muscular body carved to perfection: powerful, hard, yet graceful. Even though she knew it was wrong — a gross invasion of his privacy — she could not help but stare in awe at the sculptured contours.

The Earl of Hale was a magnificent specimen of a man.

With an open mouth, she watched him walk down to the bottom of the garden, to the narrow river meandering through his property. And then he slid into the water and out of sight.

Evelyn didn’t make it to her aunt’s room.

Instead, she threw off her wrapper, climbed into bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin, all in a desperate bid to dampen the fire burning in her belly. She could not erase the image from her mind.

She’d never known a man be so bold, so unconventional, so exciting.

How was it possible to despise a man and desire him both at the same time?

A strange sort of need clawed away at her, and she plastered her hand over her mouth to help ease the shock. Half of her wanted to throw on her clothes and run as far away from Stony Cross as her legs could manage. The other half wanted to strip off everything and swim naked with him in the river.

Oh, God!

She thrust her head under the pillow as a way of shutting out the world and after dismissing an array of lascivious images, involving firm buttocks and well-developed thighs, she finally fell asleep.

“Wake up, miss, wake up. It’s gone ten.”

Mrs. Shaw shook the bed with such force she thought she might fall out. Evelyn groaned and turned over in protest. How could it be ten? She felt as though she’d only been asleep for an hour.

“You need to get up. A letter has come from Mytton Grange.”

It took a moment for the words to penetrate and Evelyn opened her eyes as the thought echoed in her mind. She should have been ecstatic. She should have been clambering over the bed in a rush to get to her clothes.

“Is … is Mr. Sutherby sending his carriage?”

Why did she have the overwhelming feeling that she didn’t want to leave? Why had she developed a sudden affinity for the place?

“I’ve left the letter in his lordship’s study. He won’t be down yet.”

No, Evelyn thought, probably because he’d spent the night boxing an invisible opponent and swimming naked in the river.

“How’s Aunt Beatrice this morning?”

“Much better,” Mrs. Shaw said with a smile. “She’s managed to eat a bit of toast.”

The sense of relief caused her to sigh loudly. “I’ll wash and dress and spend some time with her before I eat. Do you think she’ll be fit to travel?”

“I’m sure she will. It’s only a few miles and she can rest when she gets there.”

“Oh.”

Mrs. Shaw poured fresh water into the pitcher. “I’ll be sad to see you go. It’s been nice having someone to talk to.”

The thought of leaving caused another pang of sadness in Evelyn’s chest. How odd.

“You’ve been very kind, Mrs. Shaw. I’m sure I’d have been left cold, filthy and starving if it wasn’t for you.”

Mrs. Shaw gave a weak smile. “Oh, his lordship would have mellowed, eventually. He’s a good man deep down. Never forget that.”

Evelyn didn’t see the earl at breakfast, although it was almost twelve when her growling stomach forced her to leave her aunt and go in search of food. There was no sign of him when she wandered through the house. There was no sign of him in the garden when she examined the fountain and sat on the bench. The same bench where he had so shamelessly discarded his clothes.

A frisson of excitement raced through her at the thought.

When the rain came, she rushed inside and almost barged into Mrs. Shaw, who was on her way out to find her.

“His lordship said to tell you that Mr. Sutherby will be calling later today. You’re to make sure your things are packed and waiting in the hall.”

Obviously, the earl couldn’t wait to be rid of her, and she felt anger flare. All of these conflicting emotions were giving her a headache.

“Could he not come and tell me so himself?” she said loudly in the hope he would hear her. “It’s not as though he could offend me any more than he has already. He’s made it clear he wants us out of here as soon as possible.”

Mrs. Shaw bent her head and whispered, “It’s more that he doesn’t want to become acquainted with Mr. Sutherby, for fear the gentleman will call in when he’s passing. I’d prepare yourself. I expect his lordship will be blunt and rather unkind.”

His lordship’s mood did not concern her; she had grown quite used to it in the few hours she’d spent with him. But she refused to be ignored or treated with contempt. He should have consulted her regarding any arrangements made.

“Where is the earl?”

Mrs. Shaw glanced to the closed door at the end of the hall. “In the study … but you can’t go in. No one’s allowed in there.”

Evelyn marched to the door and knocked.

There was no reply.

“He doesn’t like to be disturbed,” Mrs. Shaw said with a look of panic. “Not so early in the day.”

Evelyn shrugged. “He doesn’t give a hoot for the feelings of others. Why should I give a hoot for his?”

Before she could change her mind, Evelyn gripped the handle and burst into the room, despite Mrs. Shaw tugging at the sleeve of her dress.

The earl was not sitting behind his desk, and Evelyn froze in shock as she studied the dimly lit room.

The walls were lined with dark oak panels, the wooden shutters pulled across to block out the light. The timbered ceiling made the room feel small, confined. In the corner, a warm glow radiated from the tall candelabra even though it was the middle of the day.

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

She heard his deep thunderous roar emanating from behind the door and like a frightened animal, Mrs. Shaw retreated into the hallway. Evelyn refused to let fear quash her anger, and she slammed the door shut to find the earl sitting on a stool in front of an easel.

“Get out,” he yelled jumping up to block her view and knocking over the stool in the process.

Stand strong, she thought, remembering Mrs. Shaw’s words that he was a good man beneath the bravado.

Evelyn squared her shoulders. “I am not leaving until you pay me the respect I deserve.”

He stepped forward, his large frame towering above her, his jaw clenched. But she recalled the image of the sad gentleman sitting on the bench. She recalled the image of a man struggling to suppress his pain.

“If you want rid of me, you will have to pick me up and throw me out,” she continued, swallowing down her nerves.

He straightened. “Are you refusing to abide by my request?”

“I am.” Evelyn folded her arms across her chest to reinforce her position.

Uncertainty flashed in his eyes. He was obviously used to people doing what they were told. “Then you leave me no option. I will simply drag you out.”

“No, you won’t. You may be rude and odious, but you would never hurt me.”

Evelyn had no idea what he was capable of, but she would take a chance. His sharp tone did not worry her anymore. She moved to the desk, pulled out the chair and sat down.

“I would like you to tell me what arrangements have been made for me and my aunt.”

He hovered near the easel, his hesitant feet moving to step forward before stopping. “Wait out in the hall and I will find the letter.”

“I am waiting here.”

He muttered a curse and thrust his hand through his hair. “Are you always so stubborn?”

Evelyn smiled. “Only when the need arises.”

As another curse left his lips, he stomped over to the desk, rifled through his papers and practically threw the note at her. “Here. You can read it outside.”

Evelyn ignored him. She unfolded the paper and read the missive. Mr. Sutherby had expressed his concern for their welfare and asked to call for them at two. A hollow feeling gripped her as it was almost two o’clock. Soon, she would be far away from Stony Cross and the sour-faced Earl of Hale, never to cast sight on either of them again.

As though reading her thoughts, the earl said, “I told him he could call at five.”

“But I thought you were desperate to be rid of us,” she said wondering what had prompted the change of heart.

“Five o’clock suits me better.”

“Of course,” Evelyn replied with a snort.

He jerked his head towards the door. “Now you’ve seen the note you can go.”

It occurred to her that his rudeness was a mask for something else. What was he hiding? What was he scared of? That strange feeling swamped her again: the need to soothe his wounds, the need to hear kind words fall from his lips.

Evelyn stood, and he looked relieved. But rather than head for the door, she walked over to the shutters.

“Why is it so dark in here?” she asked, determined to unnerve him. “Why does it feel as though someone has died and the house in a state of constant mourning?”

She touched the shutters, and he gasped, rushing over and patting them to check they were still in place. With his mind preoccupied with the shutters, she strode over to the easel to examine his sketch in the hope it would reveal something of the man he kept hidden.

The sight caused all the air to leave her lungs and her heart skipped a beat as a rush of pure emotion exploded until her eyes brimmed with tears.