William’s attention traveled the entrance hall while Madelina studied him. He stood tall and comely, clad impeccably in black breeches and a tailcoat offset by a white shirt and cravat. The deep green of his waistcoat would match Lanora’s eyes. Outwardly, her brother appeared to be everything a lord of the realm ought to be.
And he was. Upright. Dependable. William had protected Madelina—made certain their father didn’t harm her—although he’d hardly been a man on the night of her mother’s murder. He’d hidden Madelina until the old marquess had agreed to send her beyond his reach.
If only William could have done the same for her mother, but Mother’s death had been beyond prediction. She’d deliberately goaded the old lord.
Madelina’s gaze slid to the base of the curved steps. If her mother hadn’t been distracted, attention caught when some other person in the hall that night gasped, Mother would have seen the old marquess’s hands snake forward and push.
A palpable iciness radiated from William, snagging Madelina’s awareness. She turned concerned eyes on her brother. It took her only a moment to realize his gaze had found the portrait of their father. William’s eyes were flat. His nostrils flared. The muscles along his jaw rippled.
“You should remove that,” he said.
Madelina didn’t take exception to the harsh edge in William’s tone. His hatred wasn’t directed at her. “I will.” But first, she would walk down that staircase under the weight of her father’s gaze.
William refocused on her, his expression clearing save for a dark cast in his hazel eyes. “Your aunt will not see you off?”
“Aunt Aubrey already went above stairs for the evening. She finds steps painful.” Because the bullet that ended her career remained lodged deep in her hip. “I told her she needn’t come down.”
William nodded, but his attention shifted once more to their father’s portrait. “You don’t have to live here. You and your aunt could come stay with us.”
Madelina’s smile quavered. “You said you wouldn’t offer again for at least a week.”
William shook his head. “Apparently, your brother is a liar.”
“No, my brother is protective, for which I am eternally grateful. But this is the only home I remember in London, and where I wish to reside, for now.” She gave him a shove, something she’d observed siblings do who were close. “Besides, you haven’t been married long, and you have your new babes and your newly adopted son. I don’t wish to intrude. You need time to be a family.”
“That didn’t stop our stepmother from living with us before she wed, and it certainly doesn’t deter Miss Birkchester,” he observed, his tone droll.
“I don’t know her well, but I rather think it will take marriage to pull Miss Birkchester from Lanora’s side.” Madelina suppressed a pang. What would it be like to have so dear a friend as William’s lady had in Miss Birkchester? Madelina had her aunt as mentor and guide, but something told her that wasn’t at all the same.
“I believe you’re correct.” William glanced over his shoulder before turning back with a wry smile. “Indeed, you’ll find Miss Birkchester is with us tonight, waiting in the carriage.”
“Your lady wife secured an invitation for her?” As much as she appreciated William’s desire to have more of his wife’s attention, Madelina was pleased. Miss Birkchester spoke enough so that no one would notice if Madelina remained silent.
“She did. Lanora wishes to see Miss Birkchester happily wed as much as I do.” William offered his arm. “And I shouldn’t mind if you joined us in promoting that quest.”
Madelina placed a hand on her brother’s arm. Wilks opened the door and stood almost hidden behind the edge.
“Not that I don’t care for and admire Miss Birkchester,” her brother added.
Madelina offered a reassuring smile as they descended to the street. “I would never think otherwise.” Waiting at the curb for them, William’s coach gleamed, black lacquered, lantern-bedecked, and bearing the Westlock crest.
William stopped at the base of the steps and turned to look at her, only a few inches taller despite his considerable height. “You’re all grown up, Madelina,” he said, his smile fond. “You only just returned and now I suppose you’ll wed and be off again, but I want you to know, I’m sorry you had to be away for so long and, also….” He hesitated. She could all but see him searching for words. “Also, you can always depend on me. Never forget that. Never feel you can’t come to me if you require anything or need someone to talk with.”
Madelina smiled, though his words conjured a lump in her throat. There were few people she trusted. This man who, at seventeen, had been willing to thwart the marquess for the sake of a half-sister, counted as one of them. “I know I can. Thank you.”
His gaze dropped to the pavement; his features drawn in the wavering lamplight. “I’ll never forgive myself for not saving your mother.”
“You couldn’t have known he would do what he did.”
“I knew what he was capable of,” William replied, voice hard. He looked up to meet her eyes once more, his stare haunted. “I should have removed her. I should—”
“William? Madelina?” Lanora called from the carriage.
Madelina offered her brother a smile that shook with sorrow, no matter that she willed her lips still. “He’s gone,” she murmured. “We must leave him in the past.” Advice she knew she couldn’t follow.
William took her hand and offered a gentle squeeze, then led her across the walk and handed her into the carriage. It didn’t escape Madelina’s notice that he made no effort to agree with her. She suspected that, like her, William Greydrake would never be completely free of the pall cast by their father.
As she settled into the seat across from Lanora and beside Miss Birkchester, Madelina wondered if their stepmother had escaped the shadow cast by the marquess. Last winter, when Madelina came home for what her family thought was a school break, Madelina had met their stepmother briefly. Cecilia seemed so vibrant, so alive. She’d spent such a brief time with Madelina’s father, perhaps she’d escaped unscathed. Newly remarried and newly made Duchess of Solworth, Cecilia lived in Egypt now, under the scorching desert sun. If anything could burn away shadows….
