Page 79 of Corpse in the Canal

Solomon’s lashes quivered.

David’s knees shook with painful hope.

Constance gasped. “Sol, please…”

Solomon’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused. He groaned, a frown forming on his brow. “Constance?”

“I’m here.” She caressed his cheek. “Can’t you see me?”

“You’re a bit of a blur… What happened? My head hurts like—”

“You were shot,” Constance said baldly. “The doctor’s on his way. David is here, too.”

Solomon reached up with one hand and David’s throat choked with tears. He grasped his brother’s hand like a lifeline. Alive, alive…

Somewhere, he heard the sound of tinkling glasses. As Solomon released his hand, a cool glass was pressed into it.

“Brandy,” Adelaide said matter-of-factly. “For the shock. Mrs. Grey? For purely medicinal purposes…”

Constance grasped the glass without looking. “Good idea.” She held it to Solomon’s lips and watched him sip, then sip again.

“That’s better,” he croaked, as though the burning liquid had convinced him he was alive. His gaze shifted to Constance and a smile lit his whole face. “There you are.”

With a gasp, she buried her face in his shoulder, her body heaving.

David’s throat, his whole being, ached. Someone took his hand, tugging him away.

“Just for a moment,” Adelaide said gently.

David went with her, although he looked back over his shoulder twice, just to see Solomon’s hand stroking his wife’s back. As long as he moved, he lived.

David was in another room, being pressed into a chair. He couldn’t really make out his surroundings, or even Adelaide. It took several moments to realize why. And why his face was wet.

Ashamed, he dashed his sleeve across his face, like a child.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “You must think—” He broke off, because he couldn’t even imagine what she must think.

She knelt at his feet and took the brandy glass from his dangerously numb fingers. “I think you have been strong for so long that it is time to allow yourself a moment of grief.”

Solomon is alive. There is no cause for grief. Yet… But somehow, even as the thoughts flitted through his brain, he seemed to have latched on to another word.

“Strong?” he repeated, staring at her in disbelief. “Me?” A choked laugh spilled from his mouth. “If only you knew!”

“Yes, you,” she said evenly. “I don’t know what happened to you, and I don’t ever need to know. But you survived.”

“Barely. Sometimes I couldn’t even tell if my memory of my brother was real, or if he was just the better part of me. I have been mad. And bad. Without Solomon…”

“You were without Solomon for twenty years. I don’t think he will die now. But even if he does, you will survive that too. His wife will need you. You will need her. You have friends. Even me and Clarence.”

He smiled at that, just because the boy always made him smile. And that gave him the courage to pull himself together, at least to some degree. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, then took back the glass from her warm fingers and tipped half of it into his mouth, relishing the smooth, fierce burn in his throat.

“Even you and Clarence,” he repeated, meeting her gaze once more. “I would value such friendship. Though God knows I am no fit friend for your son. You don’t know me, don’t know what I’ve done, what I’ve been.”

Her eyes were brilliant, steady, mesmerizing, and incredibly lovely. “I am prepared to learn those things. More importantly, I would know who you are now.”

He laughed, though she would think he was mad. “Oh, so would I.”

She didn’t turn away with embarrassment, as he more than half expected. Instead, she smiled and took the glass from him, not even avoiding his touch. She raised it to him and finished the brandy.