“I know you are happy, but not everyone deserves to find happiness,” Fredrick said. “I am content on my own.”
“Are you?” Roswell questioned.
Fredrick pressed his lips together, knowing his brother was only trying to help. But he didn’t need his help. Or anyone’s help, for that matter. He was happy for his brother, he truly was, but that didn’t mean he had to follow in his footsteps. They were on different paths.
“I apologize. I feel as if I am being a little too preachy,” Roswell said.
“You aren’t wrong,” Fredrick muttered.
Roswell pushed the teacup away from him. “Octavia told me that she was worried about you.”
“When did our sister tell you this?”
“The moment I returned home from my wedding tour,” Roswell replied. “She says that you are just keeping up pretenses, but you are truly miserable. Is there any truth to that?”
Octavia had raised her concerns to Fredrick before, but he didn’t think she would run to Roswell to try to help him.
Fredrick shoved back his chair and rose. “I tire of this conversation,” he said. “I’m going home.”
Rising, Roswell responded, “Don’t think I failed to notice you not answering the question.”
“You live your life, and I will live mine,” Fredrick asserted. “I know Octavia means well, but she doesn’t understand what I’ve been through.”
Roswell put his hands up in surrender. “All right, you have made your point. But I am here if you ever want to talk.”
“I would not count on that,” Fredrick muttered before he started walking towards the main door.
“You will find that I am an excellent listener,” Roswell said as he caught up to him and matched his stride. “Sometimes Anette accuses me of not listening to her, but I can repeat back every word that she said to me.”
Fredrick grinned. “That is a quality of any good husband. It would drive Mother mad when Father would do that to her.”
At the mention of their mother, Roswell grew solemn. “Mother isn’t going to last much longer, is she?”
“I doubt it.”
Fredrick stepped out onto the pavement and glanced up at the sky. He had so much to be grateful for, but he was miserable, just as Octavia had determined. He didn’t know what his future would bring, but he hoped it was a chance at redemption.
Chapter Two
Emilia stood outside of Sir Charles’ grand townhouse as she attempted to gather enough courage to enter. She had come this far, but the fear was unrelenting. Despite wearing her finest gown, she knew that everyone would see she didn’t belong.
But she hadn’t come this far to give up now.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and hoped she looked more confident than she felt, despite the nagging doubts. She wondered what she had to be nervous about. After all, Sir Charles had requested her presence at the reading of his will. He must have believed that she belonged here.
Emilia approached the main door and knocked.
The door was promptly opened, and a tall, white-haired butler greeted her. “May I help you, Miss?”
“I am here for the reading of the will,” Emilia replied.
The butler’s eyes crinkled around the edges, and that one simple gesture allowed her to relax her tense shoulders. “I must assume you are Miss Hembry,” he said.
“I am.”
He opened the door wide. “Mr. Rymer informed me that you would be coming. Allow me to show you to the parlor where the family has assembled.”
Emilia stepped inside the grand entry hall and forced herself not to gawk at the opulent decor. Deep blue paper adorned the walls, intricately carved woodwork graced the length of the room, and the freshly polished marble floor gleamed underfoot.