Page 6 of The Haunted Duke

Damien and Adrian both chuckled as they took their seats, and a maid poured them each a drink.

“Do we need a reason to visit you?” Damien asked.

“How offensive. What would our mother and sister think of me if I did not come to see my favorite brother?” added Adrian.

“Are you saying you do not have a reason you left your wives to come see my ugly mug?” Evander countered, raising his glass to his lips.

He took a long swig of the whiskey, relishing the way it slaked the sizzling heat still shooting through his muscles from his practice.

“He caught us, old boy,” Adrian taunted, looking toward Damien. “The jig is up. Might as well ask him.”

Evander raised a wary brow as he lowered his glass.

“Ask me what?”

Damien swallowed his drink, looking slightly uncomfortable as he set his glass down.

“How are you feeling, Evander?” he asked.

“No,” Evander hastily countered, shaking his head at his friend’s somber tone. “No, we are not going to do that. I am fine. I am back in London; I am back to myself. You both know this, and we are not going to spend the next hour circling around my feelings before we get to the root of this visit. Mother has been pestering me with such questions enough.”

Even if he was starting to feel that familiar unease again, he was not going to discuss it with them. For a moment, he considered telling them that he had been receiving threatening letters again. They had begun arriving a few weeks ago, each one more certain than the last that the past he had clawed his way out of was not finished with him. The words sat on his tongue.

Then he looked at them. Damien, who could not bear to be away from his pregnant wife. Adrian, undone by his son and a daughter no bigger than a loaf of bread. They had built their lives while he was away. He would not drag the rot of his pain into them.

Evander caught the worried glance Adrian and Damien shared over his testy outburst. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a deep, calming breath.

“Apologies,” he offered, injecting a calm tone into his deep voice. “Damien, tell me what you need. You know I would be happy to help you with whatever it may be.”

Damien was not much for smiling unless it was directed at his wife, so when he smirked at Evander, he knew his friend was ready to forgive and move on.

“It is a rather large favor, I admit,” Damien replied.

“I have merely come here for support,” added Adrian. “In case you need convincing.”

Evander shrugged.

“No need to convince me or warn me, just tell me what it is. You know I am always here for you,” he countered.

“Well, you might need a little convincing for this one,” Adrian remarked sarcastically.

“Out with it,” Evander urged, grateful that the tense moment between them had passed and they had moved on to their usual bantering.

“It is about Jeremy,” Damien began to explain. “He is getting married.”

Evander’s brows flew up in surprise.

“Jeremy?” he repeated. “Wandering, debaucherous Jeremy? He is taking a wife?”

“I know,” Damien chortled. “I never thought I would see the day either, but it seems our grandmother’s insistent pleas, or threats, for him to finally settle down have gotten to him.”

“And pray, who is the lucky unfortunate soul that has been chosen to tame your brother’s rowdy nature?” Evander asked.

“Here is to hoping she is lucky,” Adrian interjected. “However, Bridget has a lot of faith in her. Apparently, they were acquaintances at one time, and I have been told that the bride-to-be is a particularly bright ray of sunshine.”

“Yes, she has been a friend of Jeremy’s for years,” Damien added. “Her name is Helena. Miss Helena Robinson. She is the daughter of the late Baron Robinson. Do you remember him?”

Evander stilled. The earth beneath his feet gave way. Suddenly, he was unable to draw breath into his lungs.