Chapter One
Lord Tobias Corbynarrived 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 seriousfellow, 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.
