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And now, his brother was on the loose somewhere in London. Sadly, Abram would need to find the man and the reason for such a heinous act. He would pay.

While his mind whirled, tripping over all logic and understanding, he knew one thing. The answer had been contained within those letters. The ones his dearest friend had lost his life over.

He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, there would be another life lost. The question remained whether it would be his brother’s or his own.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The room was quiet, thankfully. Given the late hour of the Gray family’s return, even the sun hurt as it shone through the window on their breakfast table. Everyone had finally made it down, except Violetta, who had danced the night away with Lord Hartinton, Abram’s brother. They had done two dances together, had even tempted to do a third until Mama had stepped in and insisted she honor the other men who had signed her dance card.

Orris did not like the way Violetta immediately had taken to his brother. She was practically enamored after a couple of dances. She supposed that was her sister’s way, but to be so smitten straddled the line of impropriety. Violetta was anxious to be wed, but she should have not been foolish. Granted, he was attractive.

For Orris, she could not fathom how two people who were not twins could look so strikingly similar. She and her sisters shared many of the same attributes, such as hair texture and similar skin color, and even their teeth were shaped the same. Yet they had other differences that made them stand alone. Such as their eye shapes, the hairline, and lips and chins.

In the case of Lord Hartinton and Abram, they shared near everything. Upon closer inspection, Orris noted the lack of widow’s peak, like Abram’s. They were both devastating in their handsomeness. Then there were the earl’s eyes… they did not hold the same warmth.

Violetta must have been exhausted or nursing remnants of the drink from last evening. A headache still haunted Orris, and her mother sat at the end of the table with her hand over her face. They still had to meet the queen later in the morning.

Orris hoped she didn’t still reek of liquor by that time.

The scream entered the room before Violetta, bringing everyone’s attention to the doorway. The sound echoed through the halls and reminded Orris to never drink champagne and wine and gin again.

“Can you believe I could possibly be wed in a castle in Ireland? Oh, Dahl. He is fascinating. He asked if I was engaged, do you know that? When I told him no, he said we must remedy that situation. I knew this would be my season! I just did not anticipate it taking place on the dance floor.”

Mama rolled her eyes and took a sip of some drink, ghastly in appearance, a thick, off-white sludge rumored to settle the stomach and rid the drinker of any tiredness or ails the morning after overindulgence. “He would have to ask for your uncle’s approval, dearest. Or at the very least, Samuel. Should we not take a moment to consider an overnight engagement is unlikely?”

“Just preparation, Mama. By season’s end would be a decent courtship,” Violetta said, taking her seat at the table. “And, Orris, if you were to marry Lord Abram, we would be… We would be what? Sisters and sisters-in-law?” She screamed once more.

Her every ear-splitting utterance banged around in Orris’s head.

“Please, Cousin. Your volume is menacing.” Gladys groaned.

“I can hardly stand myself this morning. I do apologize,” Violetta said, covering her mouth with a hand, as if she’d only just realized she was being insufferable.

“Morning, Samuel,” Mama said as he walked into the room.

He merely grunted in what could have been good morning, or perhaps it was kill me now.

He took his seat near the head of the table, next to Gladys.

“Where is Myrtle?” Mama asked.

“She was unwell all morning. We might have had more than our share of drink last evening. I can drink much more than Myrtle can, so she will take her breakfast in her bedchambers today.”

“And your mama is home and well, I presume?”

“Yes, we saw to her last evening before we arrived. She quite enjoyed her stay in Bath,” Samuel said. He took a long drink of tea and bit from his toast with no jam. He did not add anything else to his plate. Waves of nausea seemed to take hold as he closed his eyes or turned his head away from more fragrant or fatty options. “This is all I can manage. Toast and tea,” he said, almost as if the sausage, soft boiled eggs, and porridge were rancid.

“I certainly hope she feels better in advance of our meeting with the queen this afternoon,” Mama said.

“I certainly hope so,” Samuel replied. “Her Majesty will likely take no issue with Gladys debuting this year, even if it is outside the normal ceremony. Though a few weeks off from the start of the season, there should have been no risk to her joining the debutante class. I have placed a good word on Gladys’s behalf. It is bound to get back to the queen. She is a reasonable person.”

He likely thought he had been reassuring, when Orris felt even more nervous for Gladys.

“There are late entrants all the time, I am sure,” Mama said.

“No.” Samuel shook his head. “I do not believe so. And of those, rarely does the family have to meet with the queen. She must have made an exception for this case,” he said plainly.

“It will be fine, Gladys. Do not worry,” Orris said, flashing a harsh look at her brother-in-law.