Summer's Distant Heart - Laura Landon Page 0,2

in the sky. Sometime before the dark of night had lightened to gray.

Evan’s breathing had become so shallow and quiet that Hunter didn’t hear his final breath, but he somehow knew that his brother was gone. A blackness unlike anything he’d ever felt consumed him with a painful emptiness that would have brought him to his knees had he been standing.

Tears he’d never before allowed to spill from his eyes fell like rivers down his cheeks.

If Hunter knew anything for sure, it was that he would never be the same again. The only kind thing that had kept him balanced had just left this world.

. . . .

The day they buried Evan was damp and dreary. Hunter thought how appropriate it was that even the heavens were weeping.

But Hunter didn’t weep. He didn’t want to show such weakness in front of his father. He stood at Evan’s graveside with a stoic expression on his face and a rigid stiffness to his shoulders. It took every ounce of composure to keep from releasing the pent up tears that threatened to fall. He knew if the first tear fell it would be impossible to stop the river from bursting through the dam he’d erected to prevent himself from falling apart.

His father’s face was colorless and his eyes had a haunting depth to them as if he was intent upon ignoring any sign of what was going on around him. Hunter understood the source of his anguish. The man had, after all, placed all his hopes in his golden-haired son. And though he had been blessed with the coveted ‘heir and a spare’, he had never really recognized Hunter as such.

The crowd of mourners that had gathered was large. The Marquess of Trentridge was an influential member of the House of Lords, and as his firstborn son and Earl of Atherton, Evan had been considered one of the finest catches of the Season. In sitting rooms far removed from Trentridge Park, many a damsel mourned him. None of them knew that his heart as well as his name had already been taken by another.

Hunter stole a glance at the mourners to notice that several of them were evaluating him, probably comparing him to his brother. Where Evan had been jovial and popular with both male and female alike, Hunter was considered moody and lacking approachability. Hunter had also been thought of as lacking a business head on his shoulders.

Little did they know. Little did his father know. Nor would anyone here ever know if he could help it. Hunter had more of his father’s business acumen than he let on. He was already a wealthy man with several profitable investments and an enviable estate of his own.

As Hunter pondered the dismal state of affairs, the graveside service ended at the doors of Trentridge Park’s impressive stone mausoleum. After quietly greeting the mourners who had remained to pay their respects, Hunter and his father led their guests to the mansion for luncheon. Hunter would be glad when this was over. He looked forward to the moment he could escort the last of the guests from the house.

And yet, he also dreaded that moment. It meant that he and his father would be alone together. It meant that he could no longer avoid the serious conversation he needed to have with his father to decide what exactly was expected of him. If anything.

Hunter entered his father’s study after the last of the guests were gone and poured himself a glass of brandy.

“I would like to discuss a few matters with you before I leave, Father.”

“You intend to leave yet today?”

“Yes. I thought I might return to London. Unless you have need of me here?”

“God, no. The sooner you are gone the sooner I can put things to right.”

Hunter threw the contents of his glass to the back of his throat and filled his glass again. “I thought that’s what you would want.”

The Marquess of Trentridge sat in the chair behind his desk and feigned interest in some papers before him. “So,” he said, shuffling the papers closest to him. “How does it feel to wear your brother’s title?”

It was the first time anyone had mentioned the title that had fallen to him upon his brother’s death. Earl of Atherton. Hunter couldn’t ease the pain from the fist that clenched inside his chest. “Like a weight around my neck. I have never desired Evan’s title, nor wanted it.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Believe what you want,