PROLOGUE
TWO YEARS EARLIER
Sebastian Vane, Marquess of Blackwood, had no business being here.
The vicar's voice droned on, but the words barely reached Sebastian where he stood, half hidden behind the old stone wall that separated the graveyard from the lane beyond.
He was too far away to hear much, but an occasional phrase reached him. Something about God's mercy… Something, something… Eternal rest.
Eternal rest. Such a polite turn of phrase. As though Andrew had merely grown drowsy from his studies and slipped off to take a nap.
A nap which just happened to last for eternity.
In truth, Sebastian’s oldest friend had been trapped in an inferno, far closer to hell than the heaven this vicar kept mentioning.
Sebastian sucked in a breath as the memory of the fire threatened to drag him under, back into that horrible heat, the screams and shouts still echoing in his skull.
He reached up to touch the mottled skin of his neck and jaw. It no longer hurt nearly as much as it had in those first days after the fire. But there were times, like right this very moment, when he wished it did.
Physical pain was an excellent diversion, and he’d far prefer that to the emotional anguish before him.
From where he stood, Sebastian could see several of his and Andrew’s friends from school. A couple were already married, their wives in tow. Then there were the local gentry, and some strangers he assumed were distant relations.
And at the front, clustered together near the open grave—Andrew’s family. His father and two younger sisters. Their mother lay in the grave beside Andrew’s.
It’d been years since he’d been here for that funeral, but little about the family burial ground had changed. He angled his head for a better look at the family, and pain speared through him at the movement. Air hissed out through his teeth as he waited for it to pass.
The burns were only three weeks healed, the new skin raw and tight across his left side, and the physician had been very clear about the risks of infection when he’d tried to convince Sebastian to stay home today.
Sebastian had been very clear too. He was going to this funeral. Paying his respects was the very least he could do for his oldest friend.
His left hand throbbed beneath its bandage. He couldn't quite close his fingers yet. And the physician had warned that the scarring across his jaw and neck might never fully heal.
He’d carry the scars for a lifetime.
Good. It was only right that Sebastian carried the reminder of that night.
Not that it would do anything to ease his guilt, but it would ensure he couldn’t forget. Not Andrew, or the fact that it was his house, or that the party had been his idea. None of it.
The scars meant that every day he’d remember his friend and his duty to Andrew’s family.
Andrew’s father, Viscount Langley, was barely upright. The man had always been slight and bookish. Andrew mentioned once how his father’s health had taken a turn after their mother passed. Now the older man listed to one side, propped up by a solicitor on one arm and a parish woman on the other.
First his wife, and now his son. His heir. The boy who'd been meant to hold it all together. Sebastian's jaw tightened until the new scar tissue pulled.
My party. My invitation. He didn't even want to come.
Andrew had protested. Sebastian remembered that now with vicious clarity. They'd been in Sebastian's study, sprawled in chairs with brandy, and Andrew had said, “I don't know, Seb. Father's not well. I should probably go home.” And Sebastian had waved it off. “One weekend. The old man will survive.”
He'd been careless with the words the way he’d been careless with everything. But in the end, he supposed he’d been right. The old man had survived.
It was Andrew who had not.
He didn't belong here with the mourners. He was the reason they were grieving.
He was the reason so many were grieving. Andrew wasn't the only life lost that night. There'd been a woman too. The Duchess of Ashworth's younger sister. She’d been brought along by her husband.
He didn’t even know her given name, but he knew she'd been trapped in the east wing. Just like he knew Andrew had gone back in for her. And how he knew neither of them had come out.
