Edward’s jaw tightened. “If you have come to gossip, you will leave disappointed.”
“I came for contracts,” Liam said, unbothered. “And to visit myfamily. That is still allowed, I hope, though it sounds dreadfully old-fashioned.”
Edward gestured toward the sideboard where a neat stack of papers had been left earlier, tied with ribbon. “There.”
Liam crossed the room, lifted them, and made a show of weighing them in his hands as though evaluating whether they were worthy of his time. “You do keep a tidy household, Averleigh. You always did.” His eyes glittered. “I suppose the title chose its man after all.”
Edward’s gaze sharpened. “Say what you mean.”
Liam’s smile widened, teeth flashing briefly in the firelight. “Oh, nothing cruel. Only that it continues to amuse me that you work yourself into an early grave for a dukedom that might very easily have belonged tome.”
Edward sat very still.
“Half-joking,” Liam added, lifting one shoulder. “You know I enjoy provoking you. It is one of the few pleasures you still permit yourself.”
Edward’s voice, when it came, was flat. “If you had inherited, you would have sold Ashford within a month.”
Liam laughed, the sound bright and careless. “And you would have called it wise stewardship. Think of the freedom. No tenants. No repairs. No endless lists of people who expect you to solve their lives simply because your name sits above theirs on paper.”
Edward leaned back slowly. “I did not ask for it.”
Liam’s expression shifted for the briefest moment—something like understanding, quickly masked beneath amusement.
“No,” Liam agreed, softer. “You didn’t.”
The quiet lingered only a breath before Liam shrugged it away and glanced toward the desk again.
“So,” he said lightly, “do you mean to attend the Winter Solstice Ball? I had hoped you might finally spare yourself the ordeal and allow the ton to gossip without you for once.”
Edward’s jaw tightened. “I have no intention of attending.”
Liam arched a brow. “A miracle.”
“It is not hosted here,” Edward continued coolly. “And I see no reason to present myself as a spectacle.”
“For the sake of appearances, then?” Liam asked, bored already. “Or is it some private penance I’m meant to admire?”
Edward did not answer at once.
The Winter Solstice Ball was a tradition—yes. An obligation passed between families like a well-worn coin. A reminder that certain names still belonged where they always had. That lineage, order, and expectation remained intact, regardless of grief.
Eleanor had loved such evenings. Not for the pageantry, but for the music. The warmth. The idea that darkness could be met with light if one chose to invite it.
Edward had never shared that belief.
“Speaking of appearances,” Edward said at last, setting his pen down with deliberate precision, “youwill attend.”
Liam blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.” Edward’s gaze held his cousin’s. “You will not spend the evening disappearing into a gentlemen’s club while the county takes note of who is—and is not—present.”
Liam laughed, genuinely amused. “Do you mean to appoint me your ambassador now?”
“I mean to warn you.”
“Oh, this is rich.” Liam’s smile widened. “Edward Thornton, defender of reputations.”
Edward did not smile. “Reputation tarnishes easily. It not only stains the man who earns it. It stains the families attached to him.”
