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Malcolm walked him out, and Felix paused just outside the front door. “Thank you, Malcolm. For everything.”

The man smiled fondly down at him. “My door is always open, Felix.” He clapped a hand down on Felix’s shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. “‘Cept for right now. Off with you. Go find Wessie.”

A half hour later, Felix entered the stable, gaze scanning the large aisle of stalls. He meandered along, dolling out chin scratches and the few bits of carrots he’d quickly snatched from the kitchen to the horses who stuck their heads over the stalls in greeting.

A pair of boots dangled at the end of the hayloft, and even though Felix couldn’t see the man they belonged to, he had this overwhelming sense that it was Weston.

He climbed up a few rungs of the ladder and sure enough, there lay Weston, twirling a piece of straw absently between his teeth, reading a book.

On—Felix squinted—agriculture. One Felix hadn’t seen before.

“Mr. Campbell?”

Weston blinked dazedly, as though he was slowly coming back to whatever place he’d lost himself in.

When his blue eyes met Felix’s, they instantly shuttered.

His fingers whitened where they held their book, and even though he hadn’t moved, the man looked like he was trying to disappear into the hay he lay on.

“My lord,” he said, gaze averted.

“Would you care to take some air with me? I have some things I’d like to discuss.”

Weston nodded, still avoiding Felix’s stare.

Felix climbed down the ladder and turned, expecting his brother to follow.

Except Weston didn’t come down the ladder.

Instead, the lanky Scotsman suddenly swung himself over the edge of the hayloft, dangling by both hands for a breathless moment before dropping down the remaining few feet with an easy thud .

Felix blinked. Ah, to be young and convinced of one’s invincibility.

“What would you say to journeying to the stream to skip stones?” The one Malcolm had brought up earlier, the one Felicity had taught Weston to skip stones on.

A pair of blue eyes searched his own, and Felix thought he might see a bit of hope glowing there.

“Aye, I’d be amenable, my lord.”

They slowly made their way through the field that led to the woods that housed the stream. There was no reason to dance around the loud silence between them, so Felix dove right in. “I want to apologize for my behavior in my study two days ago.”

“No apologies necessary, my lord,” Weston hurried to say.

“Felix, Weston,” Felix gently corrected. “We’re brothers. There will be no honorifics. Unless we’re in public company where, unfortunately, it will be necessary to continue keeping our relation a secret. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” A smile tugged at Weston’s lips, his shoulders a bit lighter now.

Felix chuckled softly. “I suppose that’s slightly better.

But truly—just Felix. No my lords . No sirs .

” They entered the small copse of trees and waded through the foliage.

“I just want you to know my reaction back in my study had nothing to do with any sort of upset or reservations about having you as a brother.”

They paused at the bank of the stream, and Felix caught Weston’s eye. “It was the opposite. I wish I had known, and it hasn’t been something easy for me to process, knowing all these years you were right there, and I didn’t know.”

“I was never unhappy,” Weston hurried to add. “There were times when I wondered what it would be like to be a part of your family, tae act openly as siblings. But I’ve never wanted for anything, always had plenty of youngsters to run with growing up, and Da and Ma spoiled me in the worst way.”

Felix smiled. He imagined that was so. Malcolm’s only son and Mother made a mother anew after her children were out of the nursery—he was sure Weston was especially doted on.

“Your father was actually quite helpful in me working through those concerns.”

“Da is a wise old man,” Weston said from where he was bent over inspecting stones.

Felix huffed out an amused breath. “I’m not so certain he’d want to be referred to as old man , but I agree.”

Weston straightened, eyebrows in his hairline. “Och, ye think he has a choice? Have you seen how grey his hair is? It’s more salt than pepper now. Before we know it, it’ll be white as a lamb’s.”

They shared a quick grin.

“I just want you to know, Weston, that I’m here for you. Now that I know. I wish I could have been there earlier. I’m your elder brother—it’s a role I take very seriously, and one I have to admit I seem to get wrong more often than I get right—but I’m here for whatever you need, in any capacity.”

He flicked a stone and watched it skip once, twice, thrice. “You may even come to be fed up with my overbearing brotherliness. Felicity will surely warn you of how boorish I can be.”

Weston nudged his shoulder, and it was so brotherly affectionate, Felix found his chest squeezing.

“I think I might like that,” Weston said. “Having an older brother to be annoyed with. To annoy. Give me yer best, brother.”

They fell into easy conversation, both trying to out-skip the other—because apparently Weston was competitive like the Jennings siblings.

And bloody hell, here Felix was again, a tightness in his throat with his blasted eyes stinging.