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That caught even Aidan off-guard. He’d been reaching toward the sideboard for a drink, but he stopped to frown at her. “You asked Marissa to return early from her honeymoon?”
“Well, she is the Miss Samuels’ best friend.”
His brother, Edward, stepped into the drawing room, and Aidan met his bemused gaze with his own. “Ah. Completely logical then. What did Marissa say?”
“Pooh. She didn’t even mention my request in her next letter. Just went on and on about the sights of the Ottoman.”
Edward snorted loudly enough to convey his exasperation to their mother. “Good for her. It’s almost as if she’s a sane person.”
“Baron,” their mother snapped. “Don’t be snide. If you would only order Harry to tell us the truth, I daresay he would.”
“Ah,” Edward said, reaching past Aidan to snag the whisky he’d poured. “But I am almost a sane person myself, you see, so I won’t order him to do any such thing.”
She snatched up her skirts and marched for the door, seemingly forgetting how thrilled she was to see her sweet younger son. “You are all so very difficult.” She’d only just disappeared through the door when her head popped back past the doorway, bearing a happy smile. “Aidan, how long shall you be here? I’d like to have a welcome home dinner in your honor.”
“Only a day, I’m afraid. And I was here a scant three weeks ago, so it hardly bears celebrating.”
“Everything bears celebrating, Aidan. You know that.”
She left them with that cheerful truth, while they both stared in silence at the empty door. As often as not, this was how she left any room.
“Well, then,” Edward said a full ten seconds after her footsteps finally faded. “What are you doing back so soon?”
Aidan poured himself another glass and collapsed into a chair. “I was told there was an emergency.”
“That’s never brought you home before.”
He tipped his glass in acknowledgment. “Right. I need to retrieve something I left behind.”
“Surely you could’ve just sent a note.”
“Mm.” He left it at that as they both sipped their whisky.
“Did your business in Hull go well, then?”
Aidan was aware, as he always was, that his relationship with his family had dwindled to polite and guarded conversation. It wasn’t the way he wanted it. Somehow it had just happened. He’d been so angry that first year. At himself and his family and the whole damn world. And instead of dissipating, the anger had merely buried itself more deeply over time, like a badger digging in. He’d used it as a barricade to keep everyone at a distance, but what of times like this, when he needed someone near?
He missed Edward, he realized. He missed the unspoken friendship of a brother.
“You can’t tell Mother,” he said quietly.
“Tell her what?” Edward asked, his head tipped back to rest against the chair.
“What I’m about to tell you.”
Edward’s eyes opened slowly and he raised his head to meet Aidan’s gaze. “What is it?”
The moment he had his brother’s attention, Aidan wished it gone. It was too much. He dropped his eyes and looked into his glass as if it were the one with the secret. “She’s not dead,” he murmured.
“Who’s not dead?”
“Katie.”
A dull thud punctuated the word. Edward’s glass had slipped from his hand and landed on the carpet. “Pardon?”
“Katie’s alive.”
“But . . . I don’t understand.”
