Page 91 of Molly Boys

“What does he want?” Ev grabbed a clean pair of smalls from his dresser, leaving the drawer hanging open. Stepping into them, he pulled them up quickly.

“He didn’t say, but…” He paused as Archie snatched the trousers from Henry’s hand and yanked them on roughly. As soon as they were buttoned, Henry shoved the rest of Archie’s clothes into his arms and reached down to pick his boots up off the floor. “Lord Hugh didn’t seem to be himself.”

Ev didn’t have time to worry on what had caused his brother’s current mood, whatever that was, but sent up a silent prayer for his restraint. Usually Hugh didn’t trouble with announcing himself and would just burst into Ev’s bedroom without knocking.

He watched as Henry towed Archie to the door, opening it and peeking his head out to see the coast was clear. He turned to Archie.

“You know which room is mine? The one opposite Jack’s?”

Archie nodded.

“Hide in there. Lord Hugh won’t venture to the third floor.” He shoved Archie’s boots at him and pushed him out the door, leaving him to dart barefoot and half-dressed to the stairs.

Ev would’ve laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation if his heart wasn’t currently trying to beat out of his chest in panic.

“Thank you, Henry,” he managed as his valet poured water into the basin sitting atop his dresser and retrieved a bar of soap.

“Of course, my lord.” He handed over the soap and began to pull out clean clothes.

By the time Everett had washed and dressed and hurried down the stairs to the parlour where his brother waited, he was nervous and slightly breathless. Taking a moment outside the door to pause and compose himself, he inhaled deeply. He smoothed down his waistcoat and pulled at his over-starched collar which had already begun to feel as if it were choking him. Adjusting the cuffs of his jacket to make sure they covered the bandages, he ran a shaky hand through his clean, damp hair to smooth it back from his face. With another deep breath, he schooled his features into a practised smile.

Grasping the polished door handle, he opened the door and walked in. His brother stood with his back to him, staring out of the window.

“Hugh!” Everett greeted a little too loudly. “Always a pleasure. What brings you to London? Is Father still using you as his errand boy?” He sighed, knowing Hugh was probably there with another demand for Ev to meet with the bishop. “Still, I suppose you’re here now. Breakfast is ready. Shall I have some served in the dining room? You must be hungry after your journey, did you travel through the night again? I imagine you must’ve to be here so early. Unless you…”

The words died on his lips as Hugh turned around slowly. He looked travel-weary, certainly, but his face was pale and exhausted, and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes.

“Hugh?” Ev’s stomach clenched. “God lord, you look terrible. What is it? Is it Mary?” he asked in concern, knowing his sister-in-law was pregnant yet again. “Are she and the children alright?”

“They are well, thank you,” Hugh said quietly and Everett’s worry tripled. He’d never known Hugh to be so subdued.

“What is it then? Is it you? Are you unwell? Shall I send for the doctor?”

“Everett,” Hugh said. His eyes filled with grief. “It’s Father.”

“What?” Ev said faintly, but even as the words left Hugh’s mouth, he knew.

“Father passed two nights ago.”

“Father…he…” Everett couldn’t even get the words past his lips.

“It was in his sleep, Moses found him in the morning,” Hugh murmured.

“Hugh, I…” Ev didn’t know what to say to his brother.

Their father was dead and Hugh was now the Marquess of Derby. Already Ev could see the weight of it sitting heavily on his shoulders.

“Everett,” Hugh said quietly. “It’s time for you to come home.”

* * *

Everett stared at the coffin as it was lowered into the frozen ground. To his right stood Hugh and Mary, along with their children. Just behind his left shoulder he could feel Francis’ comforting presence.

A huge heap of overturned earth and snow was piled to one side of the grave, ready to cover the man who’d been cold in life and now would forever be in death.

Ev felt numb, and he doubted it was the coldness of the winter morning or the crisp new snowfall surrounding the small chapel located on the grounds of his family’s estates.

The bishop stood at the head of the former Marquess’ grave, the elderly local reverend obediently at his side. Bishop Goodwin droned on but Ev didn’t hear one word of the sermon. His eyes were fixed on the coffin nestled in its final resting place six feet deep.