“What news?”
“Your brother is married. Went looking for you, and came home with a bride instead.”
“What?” Incredulity washed over Wesley. “Captain Black found some poor wretch willing to marry his sour self? I don’t believe it. What sort of woman would marry Marsh? Did no one warn her?”
“I tried to.”
“Yes, it’s quite true,” his father said. “Your younger brother beat you to the altar.”
“Please remember he is serving his country, Wesley,” his mother scolded mildly. “And in his absence we must all make every effort to accept his new wife and make her feel at home here. In fact, I think you may have met.”
Wesley smirked. “That bad, is she?”
“Wes, um...” Keith jerked his head to the side. “Perhaps you and I could step away and have a word, before—”
His father looked toward the staircase. “Here she is now.”
From the corner of his eye, Wesley had noticed motion on the stairs. A slender figure in white floating gracefully down. He had taken in only the vaguest impressions—female. White dress. Fair hair. For some reason, he would have expected a woman as dark and broad as Marsh himself.
Carlton Keith hissed something urgently under his breath, but Wesley didn’t make out the words. He turned and gaped.
The female on the stairs stopped abruptly on the half landing, staring down at him with mouth ajar, her expression mirroring his own no doubt.
Twin waves of emotion struck him at once. Sophie was here! Sophie was...here? A trickle of foreboding snaked up his spine. Had she come to take him to task for his abrupt departure? He could not blame her but was astounded at her boldness.
His sister came down the stairs. She paused to glance at the statued Sophie, then looked down to see what had arrested her attention. “Wesley!” Kate’s face split into a toothy smile, and she ran down the stairs and flung herself into his arms.
“Hello, poppet,” he said, embracing her. “Don’t break me.”
“What a lovely surprise! Oh, and you must meet Sophie!”
She turned and gestured to the stairs with a wave of her hand.
As eyes turned toward her, Sophie began moving again, slowly descending the remaining stairs, looking nearly as pale as her frock.
“Sophie, come and meet my other brother.”
“Hello, W... Mr. Overtree,” she said woodenly.
Wesley searched her face in confusion. “Sophie, what are you doing here?”
Mr. Keith elbowed him in the side. Wesley scowled at him, feeling befuddled, and then returned his raised-brow gaze to Sophie.
She hesitated. “I...”
His sister’s gaze swiveled from one to the other. “Oh! That’s right. You two know each other from Devonshire.”
Sophie faltered, “Um, yes.”
Kate turned to him. “Stephen went there to find you and instead found Sophie! What luck!”
Wesley could fashion no suitable reply. He only stood there like a fish tossed up on shore, gaping in disbelief.
“Oh!” Kate grasped Sophie’s arm. “Tell Wesley how you and Stephen met and your whirlwind courtship. I love that story!”
“I’m sure he cannot wait to hear it,” Keith said dryly, coming to his rescue. “But another time, perhaps, Miss Katherine. Your brother has just arrived and is no doubt exhausted.”
Wesley’s mind whirled. Sophie—his Sophie—fell in love with Marsh? Married him? Slept with him? The news struck him like a kick in the gut.
