August looked up, his stance straightening. “What about him?”
“That’s the name I got from the man I questioned.”
August set down his cue slowly. “I don’t know him. Why?”
Theo’s eyes lifted. His voice was low, iron beneath it.
“Because that is the name of the man who killed my parents and siblings.”
April sat alone in the dark drawing room, one slippered foot tucked beneath her, the other tapping a restless rhythm against the carpet. She hadn’t lit a fire; she didn’t feel cold, only restless.
When the sound of the front door opening reached her ears, she stood at once, smoothing her night robe and moving quickly into the hallway.
August was handing his coat to the butler when she met him.
“Did he—?” she began then caught herself before dragging her brother into the drawing room. “Did Theodore accept?”
Her brother raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who accepted, little sister. Or have you forgotten the letter you sent me to deliver?”
April flushed. “He could have refused.”
August laughed softly, the sound warm despite the hour. “Theo has many faults, but breaking his word isn’t one of them.”
April folded her arms defensively. “I wasn’t certain.”
He tilted his head at her. “Are you going to bed now that your message has been safely delivered?”
She hesitated. “I doubt I’ll sleep.”
August jerked his head toward the hallway. “Come. I’m starving. Let’s see what we can scavenge.”
They made their way to the kitchens, quiet in the hush of the house. The servants had long since gone to bed, but the embers of the hearth still glowed faintly. August found a jug of milk and poured two cups while April rifled through the pantry and returned with a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese.
They sat at the scullery table, the scene oddly domestic. April nibbled at her slice. “Did he say anything when he read it?”
August smirked. “You know how he is. Blinked once. Possibly breathed. Emotion, of course, was strictly forbidden.”
April tried not to smile.Yet he has ample emotion coursing through him.
She tore a piece of bread and dipped it in the milk. “Mama will be pleased.”
“Yes,” August agreed, “and Father will be relieved.”
She opened her mouth then closed it again, her fingers tightening around the cup as she searched his face for reassurance. “What about you?”
He leaned back, studying her for a moment. “What I think doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
He sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I know that Theo is an honorable man. I trust him, and that is not a trust I give lightly. But he carries something with him, April. A past heavy enough to make most men bend.”
“How long have you known him?”
August glanced toward the ceiling as though he was recalling. “Since Eton. We weren’t close at first. Theo wasn’t close to anyone.”
“What was he like then?” she asked.
“Much the same,” August replied, a smile ghosting across his mouth. “Said little. Thought too much. Always restrained, always a few steps apart from everyone else. But fiercely loyal. If he let you in, you stayed in.”
