Chapter 3

three

W ith elegance extending into every corner of the Imperial Hotel, the dining room was no exception. Pausing at the entrance, Trudy noted the soft glow of crystal-accented gasoliers reflecting off cream-colored walls and gilt-framed mirrors giving the expansive room a dream-like aura enhanced by the strains of Mendelson’s Hebrides Overture wafting down from the musician’s balcony.

“Are you quite certain you can manage without my tutelage?” Breezy asked. “This isn’t like the boarding houses in Springfield. Perhaps I should sit with you after all.”

“Springfield has sophisticated dining establishments, too, Aunt Breezy,” Trudy answered, failing to mask her annoyance. “And Mother has instructed us in proper dining etiquette. Please do join your own companions and trust we’ll manage perfectly well on our own.”

“Don’t fret, Aunt Breezy,” Asher chimed in. “If I get confused about all those forks, I’ll just eat with my fingers.”

Lucy swatted her brother’s arm discreetly. “Stop jesting, Ash. She thinks you’re serious.”

“Don’t think he isn’t,” Coco chimed in while batting her lashes at a passing waiter. Though her aim was to secure a wealthy husband, Coco seldom missed an opportunity to flirt with any comely male between the ages of eighteen and eighty.

“He will not eat with his fingers, Aunt Breezy. I assure you,” Trudy said to their aunt while pinching Coco’s elbow. Breezy appeared to waver but as the stern-faced ma?tre d approached, she stepped forward.

“I’m dining with Constance Bostwick this evening, and my guests will be dining at a table of their own.”

“Very good, madam. Right this way.”

“What is the matter with you,” Trudy grumbled to Asher as soon as Breezy was beyond hearing. “The more you behave like a hooligan, the more she’s going to loom over us like a vulture. Have you any intellect in that colossal skull of yours?”

“According to the phrenologists, I am a genius,” he answered, tapping his temple.

“Ah, I see,” she said, nodding slowly. “Well, as a Doctor of Medicine, not a practitioner of quackery, I find your ill-timed humor demonstrates a distinct lack of insight. Stop taunting Aunt Breezy or we will all endure the consequences.”

It would be the four of them for dinner, Trudy, Lucy, Coco, and Asher. Poppy had already eaten and was tucked into bed with Sir Chester laying across her pillow and one of Breezy’s maids keeping watch. With the tables large enough for eight, they’d be sitting with other guests, and Trudy hoped they wouldn’t be saddled with anyone as pretentious as their aunt—although few could be. Regardless, she hoped it was someone with whom they could easily converse, and with any real luck, it would be someone who’d missed out on their calamitous arrival in the lobby earlier in the day.

The ma?tre d returned, unsmiling, his posture so rigid one could hammer a nail with it.

“You are Miss Hart, yes?”

“Dr. Hart. Yes,” she responded.

If he was impressed by that, his expression failed to show it. “Follow me,” he said, turning and guiding them to the center of the vast dining room.

“You’re here!” Daisy exclaimed brightly, already seated at a large, linen-draped table. “I told them to seat us together.”

Trudy’s relief at seeing Daisy Bostwick was short-lived. The girl was charming and had endeared herself to each of them by helping Poppy find her cat, but also at the table and rising from their chairs were her twin brothers, Alex and Chase. Trudy couldn’t tell which was which. She’d only seen Alex for a moment as he’d abruptly dumped Chester into her sister’s arms before exiting the lobby. As if he could not get away from them fast enough. It was insulting, the superior way he’d eluded introduction. His dismissive manner told Trudy he’d not changed a bit since childhood, in spite of the kind smile he offered now.

Or perhaps that was Chase who was smiling?

Actually, they were both smiling.

It was disconcerting. No two people should look so similar—especially two such damnably handsome men.

There.

She’d admitted it.

They were unnervingly handsome with wavy brown hair, angular jaws, and ridiculously broad shoulders. One seemed slightly taller, perhaps? Or was he simply bowing more deeply as introductions were made? Regardless, they were both tall, and imposing, and… damn it … handsome.

Ah, the slightly taller one was Alex, after all. The other was Chase, and next to him was his wife, Jo.

“Do come sit by me,” Jo said to Trudy, patting the chair next to her. “I want to hear all about the adventures of attending medical school. Unless you’re tired of discussing it.”

Trudy never wearied of discussing the intricacies of medicine or her experiences at the University of Michigan, so she accepted the invitation with a smile, determined to make the best of things. At least she wouldn’t be sitting next to Alex. Coco had connivingly maneuvered her way to his side with all the subtle grace of a locomotive speeding downhill, and Lucy, through no machinations of her own, ended up on his other side. Perfect, let her sisters keep him occupied.

Of course, the disadvantage of this seating arrangement was that it put Alexander Bostwick directly across the table from her. She could not lift her gaze without seeing his ridiculously blue eyes looking back at her, but she’d manage. She was Dr. Trudy Hart, after all. A woman in a man’s world who’d traversed the corridors of academia and halls of medicine with courage and aplomb. Certainly, she could face an arrogant Bostwick for the length of a single meal.

Once settled into her chair, she took note of Jo Bostwick’s softly rounded belly. It was hard to avoid, especially given that she, like so many expectant mothers, rested a hand on it as if to provide a little extra protection. It wouldn’t be polite to ask questions about the state of her condition, of course, but perhaps once they were better acquainted, Trudy could pry, just a little.

“What’s your impression of the hotel, thus far?” Jo inquired as a battalion of servers arrived to fill their glasses with a bubbly Perrier-Jou?t. “I myself was quite out of place and overwhelmed when I first arrived last summer,” Jo continued. “Thank goodness for Daisy befriending me or I might not have lasted the season.”

Trudy smiled at the notion of Jo Bostwick feeling out of place. She exuded style, from her intricately coiffed hair to her glittering jewels, and yet she seemed refreshingly unpretentious. As they conversed, Trudy found Jo to be lacking in artifice with a lighthearted, self-deprecating sense of humor that set them both to giggling into their napkins as they discussed the peculiar eccentricities of those who summered at this exclusive destination.

“Have you met Mrs. Bostwick, yet? My mother-in-law?” Jo asked quietly, some twenty minutes into the evening.

“Once when I was a young girl,” Trudy answered. “But not since then.”

“Ah, well, word to the wise. Don’t waste time being wounded by anything she says. She’s sure to hurt your feelings.”

“I appreciate the warning, although I’ve had a good deal of practice interacting with people who say hurtful things,” Trudy answered. She was referring to Aunt Breezy and her medical colleagues but could not help but be reminded of her childhood interaction with Alexander Bostwick. Perhaps he’d been cruel to her in their youth because he’d learned it at his mother’s knee. If that were the case, she supposed she could understand it, but she didn’t have to accept it. People treated you the way you allowed them to treat you.

“A good deal of practice? That’s unfortunate,” Jo responded. “How do you get on with Mrs. VonMeisterburger, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Well enough,” Trudy answered neutrally. “She’s a bit overbearing, of course, but also generous enough to invite us all to Trillium Bay for the summer.”

“Not without prompting, of course,” Jo responded with another earnest chuckle.

“Not without prompting? What do you mean?”

Jo’s expression froze, her smile suddenly seeming false. “Oh, nothing. Just that she probably wants to appear generous, even if she really isn’t. Have you seen the gardens yet? They’re a work in progress but by the end of the summer, I imagine they’ll be lovely.”

The abrupt shift in topic did not go unnoticed by Trudy, nor did the tell-tale flush of rosy-pink creeping over Jo’s neck and cheeks.

“I haven’t seen the gardens yet,” Trudy replied after a pause. “We only just arrived this afternoon.”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” Jo responded, suddenly becoming inordinately focused on buttering a dinner roll. The change in her demeanor was peculiar, and Trudy very much wanted to delve deeper into the matter. Jo, however, ended the conversation by taking a large, rather unladylike bite.

Perplexed, Trudy took a sip of champagne and found herself unexpectedly locked in a gaze with Alexander Bostwick. For the span of a heartbeat, they stared at one another. He smiled, and suddenly Trudy felt her own cheeks flush, and suddenly she became inordinately focused on buttering a dinner roll.

He didn’t need to waste that smile. She knew what he thought of her.

She looked away and carefully set down the silver butter knife, inwardly admonishing herself for allowing such trivial turmoil to impact her evening. It was nonsense, really, the animosity she felt toward him. Yes, he’d teased her once when they were children. And yes, she’d borne his hurtful words into adulthood like a scar, but perhaps it was time to let that wound heal. She didn’t have to like the man, of course, but she needed to stop feeling bothered by him. If she couldn’t do that, her entire summer would be rife with irritation, like a series of bee stings and stubbed toes. She’d suffer and he would not, so, for her own sake, perhaps she should let bygones be bygones.

As waiters arrived with their meals, the room filled with delectable aromas, tenderloin of beef, roasted squab, rosemary pork, and mushroom gravy. The hum of conversation was replaced with the delicate clink of fine China being set down and utensils being lifted. And each plate, it seemed, was meant to be a banquet for the eyes as well as the palette.

“What in tarnation?” Asher exclaimed pointing to a simple tomato that had been pared into the shape of a rose. Trudy might have nudged him for his impolite ebullience but was too busy being amazed by the baked apple on her own plate—manipulated to look like a clam shell!

“Chef Culpepper’s wife is the inspiration behind much of the whimsy you’ll see at meals, but he is the maestro of flavors. You will never leave a table hungry; I can assure you,” Jo said. “And best of all, if by some miracle you do, I can show you where to find more food.”

“I cannot imagine any of us will need more to eat after this,” Lucy responded. “But how do you know where there’s more?”

“As the artist in residence last summer, I often ate with the employees and their lounge always has leftover goodies. The lemon meringue pie is the heavenly.”

“You ate with the employees?” Coco asked, seeming appalled yet fascinated.

“I did,” Jo said. “I wasn’t always a Bostwick, you know. I came from quite humble beginnings.”

“Darling, you are many things, but you have never been humble,” Chase teased.

Trudy could see Coco filing this information away in the hope that she, too, would one day rise above humble beginnings to become a lady of substantial means.

“And how lucky we are to have you in our family now,” Daisy added. “I’m sorry you never made it to Paris but I’m ever so glad you’re here for another summer.”

“We were there for our honeymoon,” Jo said. “And we’ll get back again, eventually. We’d be there now,” Jo added, turning to Trudy, “But this impertinent baby didn’t cooperate. For the first few months I felt as if I were already on a fiercely rocking ship. The idea of getting on an actual one for a journey across the Atlantic was rather more than I could face.”

“Are you feeling better now?” Trudy inquired.

Jo nodded, hesitating before saying, “Yes, for the most part. Except for the burping. I cannot seem to control it.”

Trudy smiled. “Ginger might help.”

“I must find some, then.”

Dinner progressed and the conversation circled around the deliciousness of the meal, the lovely ambiance of the opulent dining room, and a detailed review of a tour Daisy and her brothers had taken of the hotel stables. Eventually, Asher tired of those topics and said loudly enough for each of them to hear, “Hey, everyone. Answer me this. What did King George think of the American colonies?”

“Asher, this is not the time,” Lucy admonished quietly, but Chase smiled.

“Do tell,” he prompted.

“He thought they were revolting.”

Trudy winced at the lowbrow humor but thankfully everyone else laughed, even Alex, who by all accounts appeared to be enjoying his conversations with both her sisters—although he did appear to have a slight lean, easing away from Coco and her deliberate attempts to entice his favor.

“Why did the knight always carry a pencil and paper?” Chase challenged in return, arching a dark brow.

“Pff,” Asher responded dismissively. “So, he could draw his sword, of course.”

Another round of laughter followed and for the next several minutes, the gentlemen, if one could term them as such in this particular circumstance, tried to outdo each other with ridiculous jokes that would not have been so amusing if not for the flowing champagne and comradery brought on by sharing good food. But as their laughter grew louder, Trudy noticed other diners looking askance and felt the hot flush of being at the center of unwanted attention.

“Perhaps we should save our jokes for another venue,” she said.

“Who killed the most chickens in Shakespeare?” Asher asked, ignoring her. “Macbeth, because he did murder most foul.”

Trudy turned an imploring gaze to Jo. “Can you make them stop? People are staring and we Harts haven’t the protection of being well-placed.”

Jo smiled, not seeming concerned about the judgmental looks, but said, “Boys, enough. Our merriment is making the other guests lament not sitting with us.” But her words were followed by a rather robust belch, sending them all, except Trudy, into peals of laughter. Even Jo laughed as she apologized. “Oh, my goodness, this baby is so rude!”

Chase raised her hand to his lips and brushed a light kiss against her knuckles.

“Which makes me certain it’s a boy,” he said, his gaze full of love. “But you are right, of course. We’re being a bit too loud for this intimate setting. Perhaps we could continue this frivolity at another time and place.”

“What is the best way to make a coat last?” Asher whispered, unable to resist. “Make the vest and trousers first.”

A round of muffled laughter rippled through their conclave, but Trudy was relieved the volume had subsided. As it was, she was certain to get a scolding from Breezy once they got back to their rooms.

Across the table, Alex was gazing at her once again, a curve to his lips and she wondered at his unpredictable temperament. He was decidedly more cordial and at ease this evening than he’d been in the lobby. Then again, so was she. Apparently, enough champagne could make you friends with anyone. She offered him the smallest acknowledgement, a subtle nod of the head, before turning her attention to Daisy.

Alex shifted in his seat, the glow of their recent laughter warming his veins. It had been an age since he’d enjoyed himself or laughed out loud. Not since before his wedding to Isabella Carnegie, he knew that much.

Oh, they’d enjoyed each other’s company at first. Quite a bit, in fact. She was beautiful and sultry, and he’d been utterly captivated, but their laughter had been more of the stuff of naughty innuendo and their speedy courtship meant much of their focus revolved around wedding plans.

Perhaps if he hadn’t been in such a hurry to wed, things might have played out differently. But he had been in a hurry, and now he must accept the consequences—and the guilt, for even though she wasn’t blameless in their downfall, she’d deserved far better than she got. At least he was still among the living. At least he could sit in the Imperial dining room, laughing too loudly with his brother and sister. At least he was alive and free to make new acquaintances such as the Hart sisters and their shamelessly impolite brother. While Izzy was… somewhere else.

“Have you any interest in astronomy,” Lucy asked, drawing him away from his musing.

“Astronomy? I enjoy a bit of star gazing now and then, although my mastery of the constellations is sadly lacking. I’m afraid those lessons Mr. Harris tried to instill in me during school have been pushed aside by other things.”

She nodded with understanding. “Yes, thankfully, my knowledge of the night skies has conveniently drummed out any ability to darn socks, so I’m never asked to mend Asher’s.”

He smiled at her wit. “An excellent trade, I should think.”

“Indeed.”

“Good evening, ladies. Gentlemen.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Hugo Plank, designer, builder, and proud owner of the Imperial Hotel. He was a tall, broad man with a shock of sand-colored hair and a booming voice. Alex had encountered him a handful of times since arriving and found his personality to be as big and as obvious as his nose—which was to say, very big. He was a consummate salesman, and although Alex found him a little pushy, he knew Chase and Jo held him in high regard.

Hugo gave a single nod to each person at their table, saying, “I see some wonderful new faces here this evening. I believe you must be the Harts. Here with Mrs. VonMeisterburger?”

“We are,” Trudy spoke up. “I am Dr. Trudy Hart. That’s my brother, Asher, along with my sisters, Miss Lucy Hart, and Miss Coco Hart.”

“How very wonderful to make your acquaintance. Welcome to the Imperial Hotel.” He gave a perfunctory bow.

“Thank you. We’re pleased to be here,” Trudy responded. “Everything is quite impressive.”

“Thank you. I pride myself on attention to detail so if there is anything at all that you need, please don’t hesitate to ask. I am at your disposal.”

“Mr. Plank,” Daisy chimed in, “Is it true there’s going to be a scavenger hunt?”

“Indeed, there is, Miss Bostwick. Mr. Tippett is putting the final touches on the list of clues as we speak. It’s sure to test your wits so choose your team members wisely. We have a plethora of other exhilarating activities in the works as well. A bicycle course, a horse race, canoeing competitions, archery, and a casino night for the gambler in each of us. And, in addition to all of that,” he lowered his voice and made a wide sweeping motion over the table as if to ensure their rapt attention, “I’ve invited a number of spiritualists to spend a few weeks at the hotel. Trance lecturer Ambrose Gibson will be joining us, as well as psychic mediums Madeline Moyen and Greta Watson to name a few. I’ve even secured the services of Mrs. Delilah Lamb who has the ability to communicate with our beloved pets.”

Chase’s brows rose in skepticism as he chuckled. “A psychic who talks to pets?”

Hugo eyed him with an indulgent smile. “The Imperial Hotel caters to all its guests, my good man. Not just the two-legged kind. I’m sure your mother would enjoy a reading for her two little dachshunds, or perhaps Mrs. Lamb might converse with that runaway cat who tore through the lobby this afternoon and find out what he thinks of my hotel.”

The others joined in Chase’s laughter at Hugo’s obvious jest, yet Alex noticed the blush stealing over Trudy’s cheeks, and her suddenly strained countenance. It didn’t take deductive prowess to realize she was embarrassed by the situation, and understandably so. While every guest at the Imperial Hotel vied for attention, they only wanted the right kind of attention. He understood that well enough. To be singled out for an achievement was glorious. To be singled out for a blunder, even one not of your own making, was humiliating.

“Sir Chester VonWhiskerton is a cat of discerning tastes, Mr. Plank,” Alex remarked casually, adjusting a gold cufflink. “He simply wanted to explore your elegant premises. Isn’t that so, Daisy?”

“I believe that is the case,” she agreed emphatically. “And seeing my brother on his hands and knees with his rump up in the air trying to capture the little beast is a memory I shall cherish forever.”

All eyes turned to Alex, their amusement evident. His sister might have skipped that part for the sake of his dignity but seeing Trudy’s expression go from concerned to relieved to amused was worth it, even if it was at his expense. She glanced over at him, the telltale hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. He’d felt throughout the meal she’d been avoiding his gaze, but now she knew he’d been instrumental in the return of both her sister and the cat, and she appreciated it.

Why her acknowledgment of his efforts felt so pleasant, he could not discern. But it did.

After a few more moments of conversation, Mr. Plank moved away to regale another table with the hotel’s offerings, and Coco leaned forward, saying excitedly, “I’ve read about Madame Moyen. She’s well known in Chicago, isn’t she?”

“I’ve heard of her,” Daisy responded. “My maid says she very accurate with her readings.”

“And she can communicate with the deceased. Can you imagine? What would it be like to converse with a real live ghost?” Coco looked around the table, hoping for the same enthusiasm from the rest of them, but Alex had no interest in talking about spirits or the departed. For a variety of reasons.

From across the table, Trudy offered a small, patient smile at her sister. “There’s no such thing as a real live ghost, Coco. Ghosts, by their very definition are not alive.”

“Oh, Tru,” her sister scoffed. “You know what I mean. Can’t you just enjoy the mystery of it?”

“I’m fascinated by mysteries of every nature,” Trudy continued. “But if our souls truly move on after death, and if heaven is as rapturous as people say, why would any spirit linger here in its earthly visage rapping on walls in the hopes that we might understand their message?”

“But that’s why mediums are so essential. They are able interpret the messages,” Coco said.

“According to them. Who’s to say they’re accurate? They’re likely more magicians than mediums.”

But Coco persisted. “Therese Deveraux was told she was doomed to suffer an injury and just two days later she twisted her ankle. How do you explain that?”

“By pointing out that Therese Deveraux is clumsy and never looks where she’s stepping,” Trudy responded. “And anyway, now you’re talking about a clairvoyant prediction, not a message from beyond. There’s a difference.”

“And yet you refuse to believe in any of it. You are so very dull.” Coco crossed her arms and fell back against her chair.

No one spoke and Alex saw Trudy blush once again, more deeply this time because not only had she been insulted by her sister in front of the rest of them, but because the two of them had just committed a social faux pas. Arguing in public.

“You are entitled to your beliefs and opinions, Coco, and I am entitled to mine,” Trudy said quietly. “If trusting in science and evidence and things I can witness with my own two eyes makes me dull, then so be it.”

“Of course you’re not dull,” Daisy responded. “You’re brilliant. I don’t imagine any one of us could have graduated from medical school the way you did. Certainly, my brothers couldn’t have done it.”

Daisy’s attempt at levity was followed by polite laughter but the joyful mood at the table had dissipated like the bubbles in their champagne, and for Alex, all this talk of spectral visits and ghostly messages had flooded him with inexplicable emotions and unanswerable questions. If you’d asked his thoughts on the occult before Izzy died, he would have parroted Trudy’s words. He believed in what he could see. He believed in evidence, not fancy. But lately he’d seen evidence of things he certainly could not explain.

He cast a glance at his sister-in-law, and bless her heart, she understood his silent entreaty.

“Enough talk of the macabre. Shall we discuss something brighter?” she asked the group. “Perhaps we should form a team for the Scavenger hunt.”

Later that evening, after the others had retired for bed, Alex and his brother were sipping bourbon on the front porch. The breeze off the lake was nearly cold, and only a smattering of stars and a crescent moon attempted to brighten the midnight sky. The musicians were gone, and the muffled bangs of chairs stacked, and windows being closed indicated the hotel was settling in for the night.

Without the ever-present music and chatter of so many guests, Alex could actually hear the waves lapping on the shore, and the wind stirring the trees. He much preferred the soothing sounds of nature to those of mankind. It allowed him to think, although thinking these days—and remembering—seemed to lead to dark places.

“This isn’t bad for a Kentucky bourbon,” Chase said, eying the amber liquid in his glass. “Old Forester, Hugo called it.”

“It’s pleasant,” Alex agreed, appreciating its flavor as much as its burn. The sensation was a useful distraction.

“So was dinner,” Chase added. “Pleasant until that business at the end.”

Alex took a long, slow breath. “Miss Hart has rather strong opinions.”

“Which one?”

They chuckled in unison, alike in so many ways yet full of differences, too.

“Both,” Alex answered. “Coco is rather… forthright.”

“She seemed quite taken with you.”

“Quite. She also seemed to think her napkin was in my lap.”

Chase let out a bark of amusement. “You jest!”

“I do, but only a little. Her manner is… coquettish.”

“Unlike her sisters, then. They seem rather earnest.”

“Yes. Lucy is a delightful conversationalist. Congenial. Inquisitive. And Trudy is…” He paused, searching his vocabulary for just the right word.

“Self-possessed?” Chase offered.

“Enigmatic,” Alex answered after another pause. “I rather think she doesn’t like me, although we’ve never met. Undoubtedly, she’s heard the rumors.”

“I think we her once, long ago,” Chase said. “When we were children. The Harts were staying with the VonMeisterburgers and Mother took us there to spend the day. Do you recall?”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t. It must have been a great while ago.”

“It was. The only reason the day snagged in my memory is because of the thrashing we got from Mother for swimming in our underclothes. In mixed company, no less.”

Alex shook his head again with a chuckle. “I have no memory of it at all.”

“Regardless,” his brother continued. “I’m sure Trudy has no cause to dislike you, and she doesn’t seem the type to be influenced by ridiculous gossip. Perhaps she simply has a reticent nature. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her in medical school, although it seems she has no qualms in stating her convictions when prompted. Perhaps you should just ask her.”

“Ask her why she dislikes me? Good heavens, if I queried every person at this hotel who seems to hold me in contempt these days, I’d be busy until the end of summer.”

“You exaggerate. No one blames you for Izzy’s death, Alex,” Chase replied quietly.

Alex looked askance at his brother. “Now it’s you who exaggerates.”

Chase shrugged. “Well, certainly no one who knows you believes you had anything to do with it. As for the rest of them, they can go to hell. One thing I’ve learned since my marriage to Jo is that life gets easier once you stop concerning yourself about the opinions of others.”

“I don’t disagree with what you’re saying, Chase, but we are hardly in the same situation,” Alex argued, frowning at his glass. “They judge you for marrying an artist of no social standing. Hardly a crime. They’re judging me because they think I murdered my wife for her fortune.”

Chase took a hearty swig of bourbon before responding. “It’s such unjust nonsense and I’m sorry for it. I wish I could relieve you of the burden, or at least find out who is spreading such vile lies.”

“Thank you. I do appreciate that, and I suppose you’re correct in thinking I must set aside my concern over what others think. I just…”

“What?” Chase prompted.

“The suggestion that I married Isabella for her wealth is not entirely far-fetched.”

“Ah,” Chase said as if he’d already considered that. “I can’t think of any man who wouldn’t be seduced by that kind of money, but you did care for her. You told me so.”

Alex nodded slowly. “I did. I genuinely thought I loved her when I proposed, but we’d known each other for such a short time, and I can’t deny her wealth may have influenced my… optimism. As the months of our engagement passed, I grew uncertain of our success, but I convinced myself that once the extravaganza of the wedding was behind us, once we were married and she got away from her parents, we’d have a chance to rekindle what we’d started and all would be well. Perhaps if we’d had more time…”

“I’m sorry you didn’t have it.”

Alex was sorry, too.

For many things.

Distant thunder rumbled from across the lake, and a boisterous group of gentlemen well into their cups at the far end of the porch laughed uproariously as one of them fell off a chair, and suddenly Alex longed to share more about his marriage. And its downfall. But he didn’t. Not because he didn’t trust his brother, or because he didn’t appreciate Chase’s insights. He did. Immensely. But what good would come from divulging all the secrets of his time with Isabella? Of revealing all the hurtful things she’d said, or all the ways he’d failed her. Nothing could change the past, and nothing he said or did now would bring her back to life.

“You must forgive me,” Alex said, more brightly than he felt. “Too much bourbon has made me morose. I shouldn’t be saddling you with this. Not when you are in the throes of wedded bliss.”

“Nonsense. I’m your brother.”

“My younger brother,” Alex responded wryly. “By nearly fifteen minutes, but I’d rather discuss how wonderful it is to see you happy. Jo is a delight, although I question her judgment in accepting you.”

Chase’s smile was slow and full of contentment. “She is a delight and far too good for me.”

“She is too good for you. No question there, and soon you’ll be a father.”

“I cannot fathom it.”

“Nor I, but speaking of your fine wife and impending parenthood, you should bid my sorry self a goodnight and go to bed.” He didn’t begrudge Chase such happiness but the stark contrast to his own emotions was, at times, acutely painful.

“I can visit with you a while longer,” Chase responded, but Alex could see the drowsiness in his brother’s eyes.

“Nonsense. I value your council, but your glass is empty, and I think I’d like to take a walk to clear my mind. You go on up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chase paused, regarding him carefully before saying, “Very well. Tomorrow, then. Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t,” Alex promised, but he knew he would.

Sleep had become an elusive mistress of late. Each night he’d lie alone in bed and contemplate his situation. He’d recall all the things that happened leading up to Izzy’s death.

And all the things that had happened since.

And all the things that were happening still…

His mind would churn with unanswerable questions—along with the growing unease that somehow, Izzy wasn’t quite finished with him yet.