The door opened to reveal a strange butler, one that Henry did not know at all.
“May I help you, gentlemen?” the butler asked. His voice shook and his eyes shifted from Henry to Elijah.
Henry paused for a second, tilting his head in thought. A small seed of worry seeped through him, making him uneasy. He strolled past the befuddled man, having no time for pleasantries. He would find out what happened to his faithful butler later.
“I’m the Marquess of Heartford. Who are you and where is Albert?” Henry reached the foyer of the townhome and gaped.
Everything was different, completely different, down to the painting of a small family that hung on the wall next to the door. Every change in his home was causing anger to build inside of him.
What the hell was going on?
“Sir! This townhome no longer belongs to the Marquess of Heartford or his family. It’s been lost to them for some time now. I must ask you to leave, my lord.” The man nervously tapped his fingers together, his gaze going from Henry to a befuddled Elijah standing in the doorway.
“What the hell do you mean it doesn’t belong to me? Who in bloody hell does it belong to?” Henry threw his hand up in the air as he took a menacing step forward. Blood pounding in his ears made it hard for him to think rationally.
He didn’t know what was going on, but he sure as hell would find out. Where the hell were his mother and uncle? How could they let something like this happen? He ran his hand through his hair, attempting to gain some semblance of control. Surely this was a cruel joke.
“Forgive me, sir. This townhome now belongs to Mr. Percy Whitmore. I believe he purchased it from your uncle, Mr. Livingstone, this past year,” the butler stuttered out, further enraging Henry.
Henry unleashed the rage building in his chest. “Damn them! Damn them both!” he gritted out through clenched teeth.
“My lord!” the butler yelled, aghast at Henry’s behavior.
“Henry! Let’s go. We’ll find somewhere else to stay.” Always the calmer of the two, Elijah took a step toward his friend.
Henry tried to control his emotions, but really, they had lost his bloody fucking home. What else did they lose?
Without a word of apology, Henry stormed out of the townhome, feeling the deep ache of loss clawing through him. That townhome had been in his family since he was born, and just like that, it was gone.
“Do you know where we can get a room for the night? I’m sure we can figure all of this out in the morning.” Elijah’s voice seemed far away.
Henry’s ears rang as he tried to center himself. He was absolutely livid at the damn world, but mostly at himself for trusting his fool of an uncle with their livelihood.
“Henry!” Elijah’s strong voice demanded his attention. “We need to go somewhere.”
Henry shook his head, trying to clear it. “Of course, of course. We’ll go to Karrington’s.” He turned and strode down the street, a path he’d walked countless times before. The thought of seeing his closest friend lightened his steps.
“Are you sure? I know you are like brothers, but is the hour not late?” Elijah easily matched Henry’s stride, his voice hesitant.
“We’re closer than brothers. He will allow us to stay.”
Henry sat in the parlor of Warren House, nervously sipping tea and waiting on the return of his oldest and dearest friend. The parlor was completely different than he remembered. The once gloomy space was now warm and inviting. It was no longer filled with dark memories, but cheery colors and happiness that said a family lived here. There were children’s books on the desk by the window and even a small pile of toys on the floor.
He couldn’t quite fathom the changes to the home he knew as well as his own. The drapes were a lovely soft peach color, something he was sure Karrington hadn’t chosen. Even the furniture was different, with decorative pillows adorning the sofas and chaise. An exquisite family portrait stood large and imposing over the fireplace. The colors were vibrant with each intricate detail making the family look as if they could walk out of the painting. It was Karrington and his duchess with their son and what he could only assume was his niece.
Even in the portrait, he could see the likeness to his sister. It stole his breath away and caused pain to penetrate his cold heart. Emily sat on Livie’s lap, smiling widely for the artist, while Karrington stood behind them holding his oldest son, Theodore. The prominent midsection informed Henry that this painting was before their second son was born.
The entire portrait reminded Henry that he had missed his friend changing from the Bachelor Duke to a husband and a father, which shined bright in the colorful depiction. The painter had captured the essence of their family in a way that made Henry long for what he had left behind. The initials at the bottom were a delicateJS, but he didn’t recognize the signature.
“May I get you anything else, sir?” Dayton, Karrington’s butler, asked Elijah, shocking the man.
“N-no, thank you.” Elijah paused nervously.
“Dayton, sir.” The butler bowed, causing Elijah to gape at him.
Henry knew his friend was not used to such elegance, but the sight of a speechless Elijah was comical.
Giggling and the pitter-patter of feet were loud in the hallway before two tiny dogs appeared and began yelping at Henry and Elijah.
