That was when he’d seen the letter. Neatly written in William’s hand, the quill placed at the bottom of the page. The remaining ink had dripped down to form a tiny black pool beneath his signature.
Mother,
I am sorry for all the pain my passing will cause you and Lachlan. I cannot bear the shame I have brought upon myself. In the coming days, you will learn of my involvement with a man named Richard Westfall. He was an investor I foolishly trusted with some measure of our family fortune. I assure you that we have not lost enough to ruin us, but Richard has been arrested for crimes of counterfeiting banknotes. He was using his notes to payout returns to his investors. I have accepted and used these funds and I encouraged many men I trusted to invest with him, who lost everything because of me. The guilt and shame of my involvement is too much to bear. I was never the man to run Huntley. That burden now falls to Lachlan. No doubt he will prove to be a better son than I ever was. Please pray for my damned soul. I hope I shall someday have the peace that I was deprived of in life.
Yours always,
William
Lachlan took the letter and locked it in the desk drawer. His mother could never be allowed to read it, yet he could not bring himself to burn the letter. Their mother would be devastated to learn the depths of William’s struggle to find peace within himself.
Moira would blame herself for failing to see William’s despair and not intervening to save him. If he could make one good come from this nightmare, he would spare their mother that particular agony.
Lachlan pulled himself out of the past, his heart heavy and his soul empty. He stared again into the layers of oil that formed his brother’s face and saw the hollow, haunted look that had rarely left his brother’s face while he lived.
You left us, Will, and you made me step into your life, a life I didn’t want. I cannot forgive you for this.
Lachlan closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath, then made for the library at the far end of the house. The servants kept a fully stocked liquor cabinet in the room, and tonight he had every desire to drink himself into oblivion.
I want to forget you, Will. Forget you, forget Daphne and her warm brown eyes and petal soft lips. I want to drown it all away.
He knew the relief from his pain would be temporary, but he would do anything right now for a few blessed hours of numbness.
Chapter Six
“Tell me, my dear, how did you meet Lachlan?” Moira asked after Lachlan abruptly left dinner.
Daphne struggled to compose herself lest she betray the truth of her circumstances.
“At a private dinner party hosted by Sir Stirling James. He was very sweet to invite me. I only knew him a little.” Daphne did her best to stick to the broad elements of the truth.
“And you love my son?” The hope in Moira’s eyes made Daphne’s heart stutter. She wanted to love Lachlan, but the man was making that more than difficult.
She swallowed hard. “I want to love him, yet I must admit, we are both still strangers in many ways.”
Moira rested one elbow on the table, her dessert plate abandoned. “You still wish to marry him then?”
Using her fork, Daphne carefully played with a bit of bread pudding on her plate as she considered how best to answer. Finally, she looked directly into Moira’s eyes. “Your son rescued me when I needed a friend the most. Our desire to marry was a natural course of action that stemmed from that, and I wish to be worthy of him as a wife and a friend.” Daphne meant every word. He had saved her from life in a brothel. The least she could do was make their marriage a good one, and perhaps banish whatever demons seemed to haunt Lachlan.
“Lachlan never ceases to surprise me.” Moira gave a soft laugh, rich with amusement. “He was the more stubborn of my boys. The lover, the fighter, the one who broke the rules more often than not. I always believed he would wait forever before marrying.” A flash of melancholy crossed her face before she offered Daphne a wry smile. “I assumed William would marry first. He was always so conscious of his duty to the estate.”
“What was his brother like? Lachlan hasn’t spoken of him.” Daphne tried to still her racing heart, but she wanted to know more about Lachlan’s family.
Moira appeared surprised. “William? He hasn’t told you?”
Daphne shook her head.
Moira’s pale blue eyes filled with tears and sorrow tempered her smile.
“William was my firstborn. You never forget your first bairn. I thought my body would break apart when he came into this world. He was such a quiet, wee lad. He was smart and kind, but there was a sadness to him as well. Do you know what I mean?”
Daphne’s throat tightened. “Yes, I do.” She’d had a friend once, a lovely girl from a good family, but no matter how warm the sunshine or how lovely the day, the girl was always…perhaps sad was the wrong word. Maybe, unaffected by the world, for good or ill.
“And Lachlan? What was he like as a boy?”
“Lachlan was my little warrior, fit for the clans of old. There were always biscuits to steal, trees to climb. He was fearless. But I grow concerned that something changed with William’s passing.” Moira blushed. “I cannot explain it, but the light in his eyes seems dimmer.” She reached out and touched Daphne’s cheek in a motherly caress. “Except now, for just a moment, when he watched you laugh, I saw a glint of the old spirit in his eyes. Mayhaps this marriage will be a good thing for you both.”
Daphne’s heart raced at the thought of her laugher having that effect on Lachlan. For two months she had felt so helpless, so useless, but now she had a chance to help someone.
