life as an outsider, he simply didn't care. In some ways, Richard envied that. “Don't torture yourself like this, Richie," he said gently. "There's nothing you could have done."
Richie. Lucas used to call me that too when I was young. Why did I allow all this to happen?
Lucas was gone now. Isla was gone. Their meaningless feud had never had a chance to properly end before both Richard's brother and the woman he'd once loved were nothing but ash. Richard knew it was cowardly, but part of him had almost wanted to stay at home, to avoid the funeral altogether. Part of him had feared it would kill him.
"I'm going to check on the ladies," Stephen said, patting his shoulder one more time. "I'll call you over in a minute."
Richard nodded absentmindedly, his loss still making him feel numb. He didn't know what he'd do without his bright, cheerful friend, who sailed around the world with a man who was half a pirate every year before coming home to work. Stephen was the only thing that had dragged him here in the first place.
But of course, he had to be here. Lucas and Isla had two girls, two little daughters left in the world without their mother and father. Richard swallowed; his throat hurt as he stared at the loch.
The girls have a similar age difference to Lucas and me. Did, I suppose, now he’s gone. I wonder if they played in these lochs, as their father and I once played in the lake at Beresford?
Lucas was supposed to be the duke, not Richard. Lucas was older, smarter, more charismatic, and handsome. Perhaps that was why Isla, the daughter of the Scottish Lord of Gretness, had turned her eye from her initial courtship with Richard and gone to Lucas's side. Perhaps that was why Lucas had found love, while Richard was left with nothing but his duty. A duty that was never supposed to be his.
He remembered the first time the brothers had seen Isla. She'd been so beautiful, with her long auburn hair, her bright eyes, her smile, and charming accent, and her infectious, joyful laugh. She—
No. Richard couldn't think about Isla, not now. It was hard enough to accept she was dead and gone; hard enough that Lucas, too, would never see the sun again. Opening old wounds would do Richard nothing but harm.
"Lord Beresford," Stephen's voice called. "They're ready for you."
Richard smiled a little tiredly. It was always strange to hear his irreverent friend address him by his title rather than name. He supposed it was time to meet his nieces – his new wards. He'd only met them once, some four years earlier, when the oldest was two and the youngest newly-born. It was supposed to be the start of his reunion with his brother.
It wasn't, though – it never turned out that way. We left it too late. I left it too late.
Sighing, he turned and walked toward Stephen's voice. When he crested the small hill, he found Stephen solemnly shaking hands with a tiny girl, who looked so much like Isla, it almost stopped Richard's heart. This must be the oldest daughter, Ailsa. She had her mother's auburn hair, but her eyes… Those were Lucas's green eyes.
The younger child was nowhere in sight, but Ailsa was smiling as she spoke to Stephen. Despite her black clothes and evident sorrow, she obviously felt the same pull toward Stephen so many others did. The same pull that had drawn Richard to him when they were schoolboys.
"You have very strange skin, Mr. Stephen," the little girl said in an accent that stung like needles. She was obviously Scottish, but someone had been giving her lessons to pronounce words in the English fashion. She sounded exactly as Isla had all those years ago. "But it's very pretty. How do you make it shine like that? Is it brown all the time?"
"Ailsa!" An undoubtedly English lady's voice scolded from behind her. "Don't comment on such things! It's unseemly."
Stephen started to laugh. "Oh, don't worry, Miss Kathy," he reassured her, winking at Ailsa. "I've heard much worse."
Richard looked up to see who had spoken. A woman stood where she hadn't before, also dressed in mourning. There was a younger child in her arms – the younger girl, Davina, he supposed. Given Stephen's form of address, he assumed she must be the children's governess.
She was lovely. Hazel eyes and gently sun-bronzed skin, this was a woman unafraid of hard work. She