Chapter 25

They waited until they had returned to their carriage, the lamps lit and casting enough light to read by, before they turned their attention to the letters again. Emmeline took half while Adam took the other half, and they read in silence as they digested the words written on the paper in flowing script.

These were… love betters.

William Hansen, the former Duke of Kant, had been in love with Nicholas. And, if the tone of the letters was anything to go by, the sentiment was returned.

Adam looked dazed, slumping back into his seat as though he had taken a blow to the head. Emmeline read on, hardly able to believe what she was hearing.

The fact that the affair had been so very clandestine was hardly a surprise, for being with another man was illegal. If anyone had found out, they might have risked ruin.

Well, perhaps not that extreme. Plenty of other peers had similar liaisons, she knew, and the truth had been dismissed. Brushed aside in favor of maintaining the status quo.

"They were not merely friends," she said when she had finished reading the letters. Adam was staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face. "This changes everything."

"Does it?"

"Yes! Consider this passage. I know you are contemplating marriage, though you did not have the gall to tell me yourself, and I confess the notion pains me. How can you cast what we have to the wind in order to obtain a wife for the sake of pleasing Society? Are you ashamed of me and what we have?"

Adam's face tensed. "What are you insinuating?"

"And there's this. You were with Lord Davenport last night, were you not? Laughing and drinking and playing cards while I was in the country. Did you find him as handsome as me? Perhaps you were hoping he was also amenable to the kind of affection I harbor for you."

She looked up at him, her expression grave. This explained so many things—the haunted expression Nicholas sometimes had while speaking about William, their close relationship, the potential reasons behind William's death.

If William had been so very jealous, obsessing over Nicholas to the point he objected to his marriage—a marriage she could see even from a distance was for convenience's sake only—and objecting to Nicholas spending time with other men, then perhaps their relationship was volatile.

"I must speak with him," Adam said, his jaw set.

"Are you angry with him?"

"Nicholas? Yes, if he had something to do with William's death."

"And if not?"

He shook his head tightly. "This thing between them was a big thing to conceal from me," he said after a long moment. "And I suppose I understand, in part, but…"

She reached over to squeeze his hand. "I understand."

It was a revelation, a significant one, especially when taking into account the length of time they had all known each other.

If William loved Nicholas, and all the evidence suggested it was a deep, all-consuming love, then that was a large piece of his brother that Adam had never known.

And now would never know, not directly.

She could only imagine how he felt.

* * *

Adam sat silently, Emmeline's hand in his, as they rode back home in the darkness. The knowledge that his brother and Nicholas had been in love—that Nicholas had hidden the truth from him even after William's death, and that William had never trusted him with the deepest parts of himself—hurt.

But more than that, there was anger.

If Nicholas, after all this, was responsible for William's death, Adam did not know how he would contain himself. This was the worst of all infractions, the deepest kind of betrayal.

He would not let it stand.

Beside him, Emmeline rested her head on his shoulder. "Peace," she murmured. "We will find him tomorrow and learn all there is to know."

Tomorrow was not soon enough. As his ancestral home came into view, a mere silhouette in the darkness, he vowed that he would stop at nothing to bring justice to his brother, even if it was too late to bring him back to life.

Rage was a hot, tight ball in his chest as he jumped out of the carriage and strode to the front door, his wife by his side, silent as though she knew that now was the time for silence.

Later, they would talk, and she would let him speak. She would listen, and she would soothe his anger with her gentle words, and he would find some measure of equilibrium.

But for now, the last thing he wanted was soothing.

"Tomorrow, I shall go to London," he told her as he hurried up the stairwell. She followed him. "And I will discover the truth once and for all."

As he reached the landing, however, he discovered that there was no need to wait. For there, standing as though caught like a rabbit in front of the fire, was Nicholas.

Adam was not accustomed to his friend looking so discomfited and out of his depth. Evidently, he was not expecting either of them to have arrived so suddenly, and faced with them, he looked unusually pale. A little disoriented, as though finding them in their house was the stranger of the two scenarios.

Emmeline pushed forward. "Now," she said, her voice surprisingly even. He felt a burst of affection for her. "You cannot claim that you are not in the habit of sneaking into the house and exploring. The question is what for."

Behind them, the butler climbed up the stairs to stand beside them. "I'm so sorry, Your Grace," he said, panting. "I was not aware that Lord Sarron was in the house, or else I should certainly have?—"

"That's perfectly fine," Adam said, keeping his gaze on Nicholas. The man would not escape him now. "You may all go to bed now. I have everything I need."

Emmeline glanced up at him, but she said nothing, and neither did Nicholas. Adam wondered briefly if his friend would attempt to deny this, too, but then he thought of the letters still in his pocket, and a new fury washed over him in waves.

Together with his brother, Nicholas had kept their love affair secret, and that was not something that Adam could ignore or merely get over. That, alone, without taking into account everything else, was a betrayal.

This, too. That was too much.

"Let's talk in the study," Adam said, and he caught Emmeline's hand before she could misinterpret his meaning. She was his wife and he loved her—she deserved to know. "Come, Nicholas."

Nicholas started, his face going even paler. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, but then he inclined his head and followed them both to the study.

Adam's lamp cast flickering light on the room as he placed it carefully on the desk. Emmeline shut the door behind them.

"I believe you have some things to tell me," he said evenly. "Things you and William neglected to mention throughout our years of friendship. Or should I even call it friendship?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out the letters. "Care to explain these?"

Nicholas blanched. "Where did you get those?"

"Precisely where you might expect," Adam said. "From your room."

"They're not?—"

"I know that you had an affair with my brother," Adam said. He heard the cold anger, knew that Emmeline and Nicholas had heard it too, but he couldn't bring himself to temper it. There was no reason why he should. "But that doesn't explain why you've been wandering around the castle when you think we're not here."

Emmeline moved to stand beside him, sliding her small hand into his larger one. He started, then squeezed.

"Explain yourself," she said, her voice just as cold and unfeeling.

Nicholas glanced between them. His suave charm was gone, replaced by a sense of panic. Sweat beaded on his skin. He licked his lips nervously. "I don't know?—"

"There is a reason," Adam interrupted. "Cease prevaricating. Do you think something of his is still in the castle?"

"Your brother liked his cards," Nicholas said, a little too quickly, as though he hated the words as much as Adam disliked hearing them. "He frequently lost large amounts of money, and accrued many debts, that?—"

"Yes." Adam shook his head, hating the way his recollection of his brother must forever be tarred with the knowledge that he had been so flawed. "I'm aware."

"No. That is, Adam, you believe yourself to be aware of the situation, and of the debts, but you only know a small amount of it. Very little, to be frank. He asked for my help on multiple occasions, and I lent him the money so he could pay off his outstanding debts. The ones that remained when he died were merely the most recent I had not yet paid off."

Emmeline's mouth turned down as she thought. "You mean… it has been you all this time? That is why you do not have a lot of money? I considered if William had been blackmailing you, but?—"

"No." Nicholas shook his head. "He had his faults, and heaven knew we argued, but I loved him." He turned anguished eyes to Adam, who was unmoved by them. "And just as I would never have held the amount he owed me over his head, he would never have blackmailed me. He—he loved me, too. I have to believe that."

Adam believed it, too. The obsessive jealousy, the possessive tone in the letters—that was all from a man who loved a little too much, and who knew the precarious nature of that love.

The thought made him ill.

"And the night he died?" he demanded. "What then? Are you going to tell me you had nothing to do with that, either?"

Nicholas shook his head, throat working. "No." His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. "You don't know what you're asking of me."

Anger seized Adam. "I don't know?" He advanced on the man he had once considered a friend, and in a moment had his collar in his hands, pushing him up against the wall.

Emmeline said something, perhaps a plea for him to calm down, but he was beyond calm now.

"He was my brother. Because of whatever happened to him that night, I am now the Duke, a title which ought never to have been mine. The responsibilities of this estate have fallen to me. Every day, I must live with the knowledge that he is dead. And you have the gall to tell me that I don't know what it costs you?" He pressed in closer, the soft flesh of the man's throat giving under his knuckles. "You may have loved him, but you were not the only one. I loved him from the day I was born, and I will know what happened to him, whether it hurts you to confess it or not." He tightened his grip. "Or I will take what I know and release it to the world. Let the ton choose their punishment."

Nicholas's eyes fluttered shut. "No, please. My wife—she's with child. If you tell anyone, she'll be ruined. We all will be, but she—she doesn't know any of this."

"And you thought it was fair to marry her under those conditions?" Emmeline demanded from Adam's side. Her fingers closed around Adam's wrist, urging him back, and he did as she commanded, relinquishing his hold. "All she has ever wanted was to find favor with you, but you have never given her the chance. Have you considered what it must be like for her, to never have the option of winning her husband's love? You barely treat her with respect."

Adam wiped his hands on his coat as though touching Nicholas had sullied him. He felt unclean, somehow. "You will tell us," he said gruffly. "We deserve to know the truth. Every detail."

Nicholas slumped down the wall, his head in his hands. When he spoke, his voice was muffled, as though he was truly pained by what he had to recall.

"It started as any other night. I came here to see him, just as I would come to see you, although we would sneak into each other's rooms once the night began. No one, not even the servants, knew of the bond we shared. It was too dangerous to let anyone in on our secret, and we knew the damage it would cause. But that particular night—" He stopped and took a deep breath. "I came bearing the news that I had chosen a wife and would be marrying her. We both knew it would come to this, although he was more resistant to the idea than I was. The reality is simple—two men cannot sire heirs, and to continue the line, we must have heirs. I was prepared to marry for the sake of having heirs and continue my relationship with William, but he was… displeased at the news."

Adam thought of the letters, now reviewing them with the air of desperation William must have felt. He knew that what they shared was coming to an end, and he was fighting against it tooth and nail.

"We fought," Nicholas continued in a flat voice. "We had argued before, of course, but this was different. A far more powerful argument than any we'd shared before. I had never realized the true extent of William's feelings and how little he wanted me to marry, even though I would have understood if he had also chosen a wife."

"What a terrible choice lay before you both," Emmeline said, her voice thick with sympathy. Adam glanced at her, but she was looking at Nicholas, her lips twisted, her eyebrows drawn together. "To never be openly together."

"William wanted to believe in a world where we could, but that would never be a reality, and I knew it. All I wanted was a way in which I could be with him in any capacity, even if I could never know." Nicholas lifted his tear-stained face and looked at Adam. "I think he would have told you if you had been here. But by the time we understood the nature of our feelings for one another, you were out of the country, and I suppose it felt altogether too great a confession for a mere letter."

"What happened?" Adam demanded in a growl.

"William offered to pay me back the money I had lent him." Nicholas's voice was once again monotone, but another tear rolled down his cheek. "Then he said if I was so ashamed of what we were, then perhaps the world should know. He threatened to tell everyone we knew about our relationship, and I think his intention was to leave for the Continent. But—I was on the cusp of marriage. I had my mother to think about, the continuation of my line. I couldn't afford for anyone else to know. We—we fought." His shoulders shook as he sobbed, and Adam watched impassively, an ache burning a hole through his chest.

Grief had a sharp blade. Emmeline's hand was over her mouth, and silent tears streamed down her face.

"He fell. I don't go a day without thinking about that moment and replaying it over and over in my mind. The way he looked at me. God, will I ever stop thinking about the way he looked at me. And the way he landed. If I could go back and change the way it happened, I would. I loved him so much." Nicholas looked at Adam pleadingly, as though anyone could absolve him of his guilt. "I pray every day I could have gone back in time and done things differently."

Hearing it was so, so much worse than imagining what had happened. The starkness of it, the images that plagued Adam's mind of William's body falling to the floor.

"And yet you came back," Adam said, hardly recognizing his own voice. "For the money, I assume?"

Nicholas nodded, his face the picture of misery. "He told me he had it hidden somewhere in the castle, but we argued before he could tell me where—if he was ever planning on saying. Sometimes I wonder if he only told me as a way of getting under my skin."

"Odd," Adam said, still icily angry, "that the money had you coming back so many times when you claim to have loved my brother."

"I did!"

"And in your search for his money, you endangered my wife."

Nicholas turned to Emmeline at once, contrite. "You know I would never have harmed you," he said. "You know it was nothing more than an accident."

One look at Emmeline's face told Adam that she knew nothing of the sort. No doubt she had been hurt, emotionally as well as physically, by the action.

"Enough," he snapped, and Nicholas's head turned back to his alarmingly quickly. "You were responsible for my brother's death, and for that, you will pay."