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Prologue
Amberton Castle, North Yorkshire—1862
‘There’s no way out, Lance. I’m trapped.’
Captain Lancelot ‘Lance’ Amberton turned his attention away from a particularly attractive redhead on the dance floor and fixed his twin brother with a speculative stare. From the tone of his voice it was obvious he wasn’t talking about the ballroom. He’d listened to Arthur’s railing against their father’s domineering behaviour a hundred times before, but the new note of despondency was unsettling enough that he almost missed the footman passing by with a fresh tray of drinks. Almost.
‘It’s your own fault.’ He darted a hand out, swiping the tumbler of brandy he knew was destined for their father. ‘You shouldn’t be so damned responsible all of the time. Do something shocking. Try saying no to him once in a while.’
‘Easier said than done.’ Arthur’s eyes, the same rich amber shade as his own, looked woebegone. ‘It’s not as if we can both run away and join the army.’
‘I had to run away.’ Lance tossed back a lock of dark chestnut hair. ‘He would have thrown me out if I hadn’t.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘It is and you know it. Father and I have done nothing but argue ever since Mother died. We get on far better at opposite ends of the country.’
‘I just wish you’d told me what you were planning.’
‘So you could have done the right thing and told him?’
Arthur dropped his eyes guiltily. ‘He would have bought you a commission if you’d asked.’
‘That’s not the point. I didn’t want to owe him anything. I had the money Mother left us and I wanted to choose my own regiment. Father would have kept me in the local militia just to keep an eye on me.’
‘He’s still glad to have you back here tonight.’
‘So he can show off his ne’er-do-well son in uniform, you mean?’
Lance threw a scornful glance around the ballroom. As pleased as he was to see Arthur again, his family home held little appeal any more. After just two days’ leave, he was already itching to get back to his regiment. There were rumours that they were about to be posted abroad and he couldn’t wait to put Yorkshire behind him.
‘Don’t put yourself down.’ Arthur gave him a sympathetic look. ‘You’re a captain in the Fusiliers at twenty-two and doing pretty well by all accounts. That’s something to be proud of.’
‘I’m glad someone in the family’s noticed.’
‘He’s noticed. He’s proud of you, too, in his way.’
Lance gave a snort of derision. ‘That makes a change. It’s just a good thing I’m rejoining my regiment next week or we’d be back at each other’s throats—and this time I’m armed.’
‘Well, I’ve missed you these past six months. I’ve even missed the arguing. His lectures have got ten times worse since you left. He talks about duty and responsibility from the moment I get up until the moment I go to bed, which is early to escape. He tells me where to go, what to wear, who to talk to, even what to say. It’s exhausting.’
‘I’ve noticed.’
‘I don’t know how much longer I can stand it. I wish I had your stami
na for fighting, but I don’t. I’m just...tired.’
Lance took another swig of brandy, trying to think of something reassuring to say and failing. Arthur had always been the thinker, the rational, peaceful son, whereas he... He was too much like their father, attacking first and asking questions later. All he knew was how to fight.
‘Well, don’t let it bother you tonight.’ He clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood. ‘There’s enough pretty girls here to entertain both of us. Let’s have some fun.’
‘Father doesn’t approve of fun, you ought to know that by now, and I don’t want to hear another rant about how not to behave.’
‘That’s easy. Just watch me.’
‘What did you think I meant?’ Arthur threw him a look that was part reproof, part appeal. ‘Just don’t do anything scandalous like at the Kendalls’ last year. He’ll never forgive you if you ruin his ball.’
‘I’ve no intention of ruining anything. And as for the scandal, as you call it, I barely touched Olivia Kendall. No more than she wanted me to anyway.’
‘She was engaged! If it had been anyone but me who’d found you on the terrace...’
‘Who ruined my evening, you mean?’
