“Montague, speak to me, speak to me. Oh, God.” Thomas, kneeling in the street, held the body of his brother in his arms. Montague was dead. An unbearable wave of grief consumed him as he remembered the Montague of the olden days. In age, they were only two years apart and had been inseparable when they were young. Always the defiant one, Thomas had been saved from trouble many a time by his older brother. Now Thomas’s heart cried out in anguish, not for the drunken wastrel Montague had become, but for that little boy who had always been staunchly loyal to his younger brother, always taking his side, fighting his battles.
He felt Penelope’s presence beside him. “Is he gone?” she asked, tears choking her voice.
“He’s gone,” Thomas whispered, hard put to keep back his own tears. He laid Montague’s lifeless body gently in the street, removed his coat and with care and reverence covered his brother’s face. His own grief was nearly overwhelming, but sensing his sister’s near hysteria, he drew her into his comforting arms.
Someone said, “I saw the accident, Lord Thomas. His horse shied, I don’t know why. He fell off, making no effort to hang on, it seemed, and struck his head on the cobblestones.”
Someone in the crowd remarked, “Good grief. This changes everything for Linberry.”
Did it? Thomas couldn’t think beyond the fact he had just lost his beloved, only brother.
* * *
The momentous consequences of Montague’s death did not occur to Thomas until after his brother’s remains had been removed, and he and Penelope were in their carriage, finally going home. Through her tears, Penelope asked, “Thomas, do you realize the import of this?”
“What do I care about import? Our brother is dead.”
“But you must care. Think of it. Montague is gone and he didn’t leave any heirs. That makes you the heir apparent.”
Exhausted, not wanting to think, Thomas leaned back against the squabs. In the dim circles of light cast by passing street lamps, he could see his sister’s anguished face. From outside, he heard the familiar clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves and he thought how strange it was that anything could sound so ordinary on this extraordinary night. Soon, as he half listened, the stunning meaning of Penelope’s words crept into his consciousness.
Yes, now he was the first son...
Yes, from this day forward he was Lord Eddington...
And yes...
He sat straight, hurtling back from his universe of grief into a new reality. No longer was he the insignificant second son. He was now Lord Eddington, who some day would become Marquess of Westhaven and inherit one of the largest, most wealthy estates in all England.
“Do you not see what this means?” asked Penelope. “Your life is about to change, and most dramatically.”
“Dear God,” Thomas muttered. As a second son he had been in charge of his own life with nothing expected of him. But now he was the heir.
A new anguish seared his heart. Except for his dilemma over Evleen, he had been supremely happy with his life, just as it was. But what Penelope said was true, and he knew his life was about to change forever.
There was something else, too. It was a glimmering fact that he would tuck away in the back of mind until later he could deal with it.
* * *
Evleen and the Trevlyns arrived home after a woeful carriage ride during which the Trevlyn girls worked through various stages of hysteria, particularly Charlotte, who appeared near prostrate with grief. It was not until they were all seated in the drawing room and Pierce had been instructed to bring them tea, that Lydia said to Charlotte, “Do you realize Thomas is now the heir?”
“What do I care?” cried Charlotte, “Montague is dead, isn’t he? My life is over.”
She really did love him, thought Evleen with deep sympathy. How it was possible to love someone as selfish and self-indulgent as Montague was difficult to fathom, but Charlotte no doubt saw him through different eyes.
Lydia said gently, “Your life is not over, Charlotte. Just now, you’re overcome with grief, which is natural, but soon you’ll be looking to the future, and that means Thomas.”
“Thomas?” Charlotte asked in a vague way. With her lace handkerchief she dabbed at her eyes.
Lydia briskly nodded. “In case you didn’t hear me the first time, Thomas is now Lord Eddington and will inherit his father’s entire estate.”
“Thomas is now the heir,” Charlotte repeated in dazed wonderment. “I always did like Thomas.”