Brother of Darkness (The Blackwood Brotherhood #2)

Chapter One

Lord Tobias Corbyn arrived at his front door after a long and surprisingly restful sleep. Usually, he never slept well without the noise of a London street outside his window, but he had this time.

It was a dream that had brought him back to Hawthorne, a property he’d barely set foot in since turning eighteen.

Two weeks earlier, he’d awoken in his London townhouse, unsettled by a dream in which his father had been angry at his son for abandoning his heritage. Not normally one to do anything he had no wish to, selfish bastard that he’d become, Toby had been unsettled enough to travel here four days later.

Hawthorne was the estate his parents had loved most of the three his father owned. Toby had his happiest years here, but after age fourteen he’d never found happiness again.

The last ten days had been spent wandering the halls, and his lands, reacquainting himself with his staff and estate.

It wasn’t exactly enjoyment he felt being back here, but there was a form of contentment in the memories Toby relived.

The tightness that was a constant companion inside him eased slightly.

“Good morning to you, my lord.”

“Good morning, Collins,” he said to his butler, who appeared from beneath the stairs behind him.

As a child Toby thought this man had eyes everywhere, as he always seemed to know where the family were situated. A serious fellow, Collins rarely spoke unless he had something important to say.

“If I may have a word, my lord.”

“Of course.”

“I’ve been hearing murmurs about goings on in the village, and none of them good, Lord Corbyn. As yet, I’m unsure what’s at the root.”

Hearing the name of the local village made Toby tense, but it did not show on his face.

“What have you heard, Collins?” Toby watched his butler work through what he needed to say. He always got to the point and never dithered. He thought a few people in London society could take lessons from his butler.

“Masked riders coming into Bidham brandishing guns at night.”

“When did you hear these rumors, Collins?”

“A month ago, my lord. I went into Bidham myself, but no one there is willing to talk on the matter. In fact, they appeared fearful when I pressed them.”

Toby respected his butler’s opinion, and knew he was not prone to exaggeration.

Like many things from his childhood Bidham village was a raw wound inside him, but Toby knew what he needed to do, even as he wished otherwise.

“Then I shall stop there on my return journey to London, if you think it necessary, Collins?”

The shock on his butler’s face was quickly masked, but Toby had seen it.

He’d not visited Bidham since his return from school.

He knew Collins like the rest of the staff still here at Hawthorne, who had been here when he’d grown up, were horrified by that.

Corbyns had been aligned with the village for centuries.

Toby had turned his back on it, like many things.

“I would be grateful, Lord Corbyn. Something is not right there.”

“Very well, and perhaps it is time,” he added.

His butler bowed. “Safe travels to you, my lord.”

“Should you need me, then send word, Collins.” Another look of surprise flashed across his butler’s face. “Good day to you.”

He left before he could say anything else to shock the man and went to the carriage that awaited him at the impressive entrance to Hawthorne.

Turning, he looked up at the pale stone facade a last time.

There were so many memories, good and bad inside those walls; the worst part was, he’d forgotten the good ones until now.

Climbing inside, they were soon rolling away from his family’s home.

The short ten-minute drive to the village was undertaken, with Toby looking out the window at the landmarks he knew so well.

The tree split in half by lightning that he, Liberty, and his brother Mathew had climbed all over.

They’d waded barefoot through the thin stream that ran into the village all year round, and nearly lost their toes to frostbite in the winter months.

The memories were accompanied by a deep pang of sorrow. Toby had turned his back on all the good in his life because he’d not known how to deal with the hell he’d endured.

When the carriage stopped, he stepped out, taking a deep steadying breath. He was a viscount and had endured many things. This was just another.

“I will return soon, Rory. Please wait here,” Toby told his driver.

“As you wish, my lord.”

He walked along the narrow, cobbled road and down into the village he’d grown up running through as a boy.

The day was cool and clear, and still early enough that a few wisps of mist were clinging to the hills behind him. Beyond the small village were cliffs, below which swirled the sea. Another place he’d spent his childhood.

His mother had thought Bidham quaint. A handful of shops catered to the needs of those who lived here or nearby, and when you stepped foot in the village there was someone wanting to chat or offer well-meaning advice.

Toby doubted much had changed, but again, it had been years, so he had no notion of what had taken place within its borders.

One thing had always struck him about this little nest of houses and shops, and that was happiness.

Whenever he’d been here, someone had been laughing.

Had there been anger and sadness? Definitely, but his dominant memory of this small village was happiness.

It was an emotion that hung in the air, but something he’d never been able to reach again since the day he’d entered Blackwood Hall as a child.

Toby inhaled the familiar tang of the sea as his eyes moved from left to right, taking in the scene before him. Like everything good in his life, he’d shut this place out, too.

His years living in Blackwood Hall, where he boarded during his school days, had shaped the man he was today.

Hard edged, cynical, and a libertine, or so his mother had called him just last month.

She despaired of him ever taking a bride as no woman would have him, and then there would be no future Lord Corbyn, as he had not supplied her with a grandchild yet.

Just the thought of caring for a child made him queasy. He could barely care for himself. How would he keep it safe?

Toby walked until he reached the first house in the village. As if it had only been a week and not years since he’d seen him, Mr. Jasper was bent, tending his vegetables. He raised his head as he heard Toby’s footsteps, and the smile fell from his lips to be replaced by a scowl.

It surprised him to see the man had aged, and why it should as it had been so long since last they’d met, he had no notion. Perhaps he’d wanted Bidham and its inhabitants to stay exactly as it had been in his memory. A place he’d once been happy.

“Good day to you, Mr. Jasper,” Toby said.

Mr. Jasper nodded once. He then walked away, up the stairs and into his house, closing the door behind him.

He’d once smiled at Toby when he saw him, and spent time teaching him things, like when was the best time to plant vegetables.

Now, they were strangers, and from that greeting, he guessed his refusal to fulfil his family’s obligations to the village of Bidham had left a foul taste in the mouths of many.

Stomping on the kernel of guilt, Toby walked on.

The Bodkin sisters were the next house, and both seated on their front porch.

Toby had thought at least one if not both would have passed by now, but there they were watching him approach.

They stared at him, nodded, and then rose too, and went inside.

There would be no thick wedge of bread slathered in jam for the young lord and his brother today.

What had he expected? He’d refused to frequent the businesses in the village, or open the annual fair, which a Viscount Corbyn had always done since its inception. So wrapped up in his own hell, he’d given no thought to those he was hurting.

Like her.

He continued to walk, stomping down the guilt and pain, looking at houses, naming the owners in his head, and wondering if they were still living there, while he struggled to come to the understanding that the people who had embraced the young heir once, now ignored him.

As he walked, Toby recalled his butler’s words. Something isn’t right, my lord. There’s something sinister at foot in Bidham. He felt the change. There was no longer happiness here. He could hear no one laughing or people talking together on the street.

“Am I seeing things?”

He turned at the words, sure they’d been spoken to someone else, and saw her sitting there. Miss Ainsley had been the Corbyn boys’ nanny for many years until Toby had gone away to school. She’d seemed old when she’d joined the staff.

“Harry,” he said, crossing to where she sat on a wooden bench outside the home her family had owned for as long as Toby could remember. “At least someone is speaking to me.”

“Did you expect different?” she asked. “You turned your back on everyone in this village, and they relied on your patronage. The Corbyn family has been linked to Bidham for many years.”

“My mother has not come here either?” Toby had never asked her, and she’d not spoken of the village since the day she’d begged him to do his duty as Lord Corbyn, and he’d refused.

“She has not.” Harry’s face was worn like the pages of an overused book. But the woman who had been his first love was still there in the green eyes and lovely smile.

Toby and Mathew had worshipped her because she’d given them everything their parents hadn’t.

It had been Miss Harris who had really shown the brothers how to love.

How to laugh and be happy. She’d also taught them that because they were rich, titled and in her words, “one day would be more handsome than was good for anyone,” they also had to be humble.

“Your father passed the year before you returned, and since then, no Corbyn has entered Bidham until today.”

“What of the Talbots? Surely a duke and duchess are an adequate replacement?” Toby asked, battling his shame.

“It is the Corbyns who are linked here, my lord, not the Talbots. For all, they have been constant visitors to the village,” Harry said in a sad voice.

He looked across the street and saw the curtains in the Taylor house twitch. Toby was being watched.

“Why are you back here now, my lord?”

She’d always asked whatever question was in her head. Regardless of the fact he ranked far higher than her on the social ladder his peers savored so much.

“How are you, Harry?” he said, instead of giving her the reason.

“I’m well, because you make sure of it by sending me money, which I’ve told you I don’t need.”

“Give it away then,” Toby said, wondering how he felt so comfortable with this woman, even here in Bidham. There were only two people in his life who usually laid claim to that.

She turned in her seat then and looked at him, which meant he had to look at her. Her eyes ran over his face, and then a soft hand patted his cheek.

“I am as well as can be expected, considering,” she said, but her voice had dropped to almost a whisper.

“Considering?”

“You’ll not want to ask me any more on that,” she added.

“Harry—”

“Have you been to the cemetery, my lord?”

Toby nodded. It was the first place he went to when he came back. He visited his father’s grave, and then, for the first time since his death, he sat beside his brother’s for hours.

“Let him lie now, my lord. Find your peace, as he has his. You will never be happy until you do that.” She studied him.

“But I suspected there was more than just your brother’s death haunting you when you returned from school,” Harry added.

“But as you sent me away, along with everyone else you cared about, I did not know what.”

He hadn’t spoken about that time in his life with anyone, and had no wish to start now. Regaining his feet because he didn’t want to discuss this further, Toby prepared to leave. Fingers on his arm stopped him.

“Make your peace with her and your brother’s death, and leave the past there,” Harry said.

He didn’t respond, just bent to kiss her soft cheek. “Take care, Harry.”

“One more thing, my lord.”

He looked down at her again.

“There’s evil about. Have a care,” Harry whispered.

“Evil?”

She looked left, and then right. “I can’t say more.”

“Is someone threatening you, Harry?” He would not stand for that.

“Not me, but us,” she whispered. “It will take someone brave to fix it.” Her eyes held his steady now. “Someone who has known evil to root it out. You are brave, Lord Corbyn; never forget that.”

Toby stared at her for long seconds as the hair on the back of his neck rose. She then pulled herself upright using his arm and walked away without a backward glance. Opening her front door, she closed it softly behind her.

What the hell is going on here?