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“Thank you.” She sipped the cool drink, which eased her parched throat. “I’m surprised at the number of people here. There must be thirty guests.”

“At least. Some are inside. I’d say closer to forty.”

“How many are attending the hunt tomorrow?”

“I haven’t seen the attendees list, but I’d imagine most of the men and some ladies will ride along.” He took a sip of his drink. “Do you want to accompany me?”

“No.” Her body was still healing, and the jostling of riding and sitting on a saddle would be uncomfortable.

He patted her hand. “I didn’t think so. I want you to take it easy and not overdo it. Do you want to go up to the room and rest before dinner? I believe it is a formal affair with dancing afterward.”

“No. I’m a little tired, but I’ll be fine. Sitting here in the sun is restoring my energy.”

“Do you mind if I go to the stables and look over the mounts for tomorrow?”

“No. Don’t worry about me.”

“I always do, though... ever since—” his voice cracked. He squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek. “Truly, don’t be a warrior. Rest if you need to.”

Once Aiden left, taking the empty plates and cups, she adjusted her skirts and watched the servants clear the food and tables away.

She found herself alone and enjoyed the peace, quiet, and privacy.

A light breeze brought a mixed scent of the nearby blossoms her way, and she inhaled the fragrances.

Bees buzzed from flower to flower, pollinating the plants.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and her muscles eased as the heat from the sun penetrated through the fabric of her clothes, melting the tension away.

“May I join you?”

Her heart fluttered at the sound of the familiar voice and all the air whooshed from her lungs. She opened her eyes, looking up at Andrew’s handsome and guarded face.

“You may.” She scooted over on the bench as far as she could, which wasn’t much before the armrest jabbed into her side.

After he sat down, he looked at her with uncertainty and something else. A great sadness, she thought. “How are you?”

She lowered her gaze to her hands folded together on her lap. She could not tell him the truth so she only said, “I am well. And you?”

His chuckle warmed her heart. “I am well. Thank you.” He paused. “I have written Aiden several times, and he has never replied. Is he upset with me?”

She glanced his way and immediately wished she hadn’t.

The devastation in his eyes had her swallowing back tears.

“He received your letters. I assumed he wrote you back. I’m sorry he hasn’t and worried you.

He is fine. We are both fine. He is busy helping his father with his business.

He works almost every day in some capacity.

We are staying in London for the most part and keeping to ourselves.

We hardly socialize. Aiden doesn’t enjoy large gatherings. And to tell the truth, neither do I.”

Rising, he nodded his head, his gaze elsewhere. “That is all I wanted to know. I hope you are both happy.”

Before she could answer, “We are,” he was gone, leaving her wondering why Aiden hadn’t responded to Andrew’s letters.

But that conversation was for another day when they were home in London with no distractions.

Being rude to Andrew would not solve whatever problem Aiden might still have with him.

Did he perhaps have other issues with Andrew besides the obvious?

Could they have had a falling out because of something else?

In truth, it would ease Emmeline’s heart if their distance had nothing to do with her.

The guilt that plagued her was a heavy burden to carry around day in and day out.

It would be a long life if something didn’t change.

Not that there was anything for Aiden to be envious of when it came to her brief courtship with Andrew. They had never even kissed.

Thank goodness Aiden had no way of knowing her thoughts and dreams regarding Andrew, though. She suffered enough remorse over that for the both of them.

Emmeline rose from the bench and decided to rest before dinner, after all.

Her husband had not returned, and she was bored from sitting alone.

She didn’t want to rehash the same thoughts in her head she always did when having a melancholy moment.

She would not waste another moment trying to fix what was wrong with her husband’s friendship.

Nor would she reminisce about the past between Andrew and her.

It never solved anything and only made her more unsettled, anxious, and sad.

Aiden needed his friends now more than ever. If only he wouldn’t push them away.

Upon entering their away-from-home bedchamber, she rang for Amanda. When she arrived, she helped her undress down to her chemise. “That will be all, Amanda. Thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Pulling the covers down, Emmeline climbed beneath the cool sheets, turned on her side, and closed her eyes. The strains of traveling and seeing Andrew proved too much for her, and her mind and body craved sleep.

*

Dinner and dancing began pleasantly enough that evening, but by the end Emmeline couldn’t wait to return to her room for the night.

The strain of the day, and worrying about Aiden and how much he was overindulging in port, only added to her worries.

Little by little, since their wedding, his alcohol consumption had increased.

He rarely got fall-down drunk, but she agonized over it nonetheless.

When she brought it up, he convinced her he was fine.

But he wasn’t. She wanted him to see the family physician, but he refused.

She had finally given up recommending it because the conversation never solved anything.

When sober, Aiden was a loving and attentive husband.

But when overindulging in spirits, he became overly quiet and brooding.

She needed Weston’s and Caldwell’s assistance getting him to their room. It took all her strength to keep her eyes averted from them so they would not see the tears in her eyes and the frustration in her soul. It would be a miracle if he were well enough to attend the morning’s hunt.

*

Andrew groaned when Clayton entered his room and opened the curtains. “Good morning, my lord. The hunt begins promptly in one hour. I brought you a breakfast tray. Shall I return to help you dress?”

“No, I can manage.” Climbing out of bed, he stretched as he went to the window.

“Cloudy, not windy. It will do for a hunt,” he said to himself.

After taking care of his morning ablutions, he perused the tray.

Eggs, sausage, toast, and marmalade, along with coffee.

Clayton knew he needed his morning coffee to function and pretend to be human and interested in the day.

To his father’s dismay, the past four years had found Andrew floundering.

He had very little to occupy his time until he inherited his father’s estates and titles, which he was in no hurry to do.

As a privileged and leisurely member of the ton , he was expected to socialize, dance with the debutantes seeking husbands, and attend house parties like this one.

He also found plenty of time to visit his clubs and gambling dens.

The latter caused friction with his father.

He had recently acquired debts beyond his monthly allowance and needed his father’s help to pay.

He hadn’t needed to witness the disappointment in his father’s eyes to know a change in the trajectory of his life was needed.

He desperately sought to acquire purpose in his life.

Turning into a wastrel was not what Andrew had foreseen for his future.

And the reality of being a wastrel wasn’t something he was proud of.

Quite the opposite—he despised himself for it.

But somehow, he wasn’t capable of changing his path.

His heart and soul were damaged, making him care less about what happened to him or his future.

He was a bloody mess being held together by his cravat.

Dressed in hunting attire, he made his way to the stables, where the participants in the event were meeting.

Andrew had brought his horse, Merlin, with him.

He always preferred his mount to one being supplied by the host. Hunting was not one of his favorite pastimes, but just as today, he would participate because it was expected of him.

Not only that, he hoped to have a private word with Aiden.

They’d promised each other four years ago that Emmeline would never come between their friendship, yet that was precisely what had happened.

Before long, the four friends had ridden off together, separating from the other hunters and the hounds. None of them had it in them to hunt today. To Andrew’s surprise, Aiden had brought several flasks filled with whisky, and he passed them out.

“Can’t ride with my closest friends without libation.” He held up his flask. “To friends!”

“To friends!” Weston, Caldwell, and Andrew toasted in unison.

Andrew held up his flask again, “To the best friends a gentleman could ever wish to have!”

“Here, here!” three voices called out.

After an hour, the four stopped at a stream to water their horses and partake in bread, cheese, and fruit their host supplied to each participant.

Not that they were actively participating.

None of the friends were avid hunters. This time together was more about friends getting reacquainted after many years apart—at least, Andrew hoped it was.

Quite some time went by before they left the stream and made their way to an open field, and Andrew said, “Who wants to race?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have said them. None of them were in any condition to race—they were all deep into their cups. But he rarely cared about the consequences of his actions lately, and the words had slipped out almost of their own accord.

“Yes!” Aiden said, nearly sliding off his mount in his enthusiasm fueled by whisky.

“I’m too into my cups,” Weston said as he slithered off his mount and landed on his arse.

“I’m with Weston,” Caldwell said with a laugh as he dismounted. “You two go on. Weston and I will sit here, watch, and try not to fall asleep.”

“Andrew’s a better rider than me, so I think I should get Merlin to compensate for it.”

“Merlin needs strong guidance and delicate handling. I don’t think it’s a wise idea for you to ride him.

I’ll give you a head start.” As impaired as he was, Andrew still knew it wasn’t a good idea to have Aiden ride Merlin.

Merlin was a beast and didn’t tolerate others riding him.

And not to be judgmental, but Aiden wasn’t the best horseman.

“What the hell?” Aiden bellowed, looking enraged, as he staggered down from the saddle. “Wise, my arse. I can handle your damn horse just as well as you can.”

The last thing Andrew wanted to do was cause more of a rift between them, so against his better wisdom, he relented.

“He is yours. I’m going to ride Weston’s mount.

” He dismounted, landing on wobbly legs and handing over the reins to Merlin who immediately tossed his head up and down and side to side in protest.

“Okay, gentlemen.” Weston teetered to his feet. “The first rider to...” he paused and put his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, “to ride to that huge oak at the end of the clearing and back is the winner and shall hold the title of the fastest racer ever to live!”

All four of them burst out laughing. “If you say so,” Aiden remarked as he mounted Merlin. There was no need to adjust anything since Andrew and Aiden were close enough in height.

Andrew adjusted Weston’s stirrups as Weston was slightly shorter than he. When comfortable on Weston’s horse, he moved beside Aiden and nodded. “May the best man win.”

Aiden snickered, “You bet your arse I will.”

Caldwell stood off to the side, swaying on his feet. “Is this a good idea? You two are foxed and don’t know the terrain.”

“To hell with the terrain.” Aiden took another swig from his never-ending flask, almost unseating himself. “We are invincible.”

“Hell, yes,” Andrew drawled, “invinca . . . something.”

“Ready?” Weston stood between the riders. “On three. One. Two. Three!”

Andrew urged his horse on, surprised his mount was a good match for Merlin.

Andrew could barely hold on as he felt the effects of the whisky sloshing around in his stomach, wanting to come back up.

The wind took his hat off, and his hair blew in his eyes, making it difficult to see anything but Merlin and Aiden to his left.

To stop the world from spinning and give him something to concentrate on besides leaning over the saddle and throwing up, he focused on Merlin becoming more agitated as Aiden used a crop on him. Merlin never tolerated such treatment and he should’ve warned Aiden not to use one.

Andrew urged his horse to go faster and he came right beside Aiden who appeared to struggle with the reins. Panicking at what he saw, Andrew yelled, “Whoa, Merlin, whoa.”

Several things happened then that Andrew could never again unsee or forgive himself for.

Merlin came to a sudden and violent stop that sent Aiden flying over his head.

Aiden tumbled to the ground in a broken heap as Merlin went up on his hind legs.

When he came down he stomped on Aiden with his full weight.

At the same time Andrew’s eyes witnessed the vicious actions, a scream split the air, and then silence.

Andrew’s heart lodged in his throat as he jumped out of the saddle and dropped down beside his friend’s fractured body.

He didn’t need to see his sightless eyes looking up into the sky to know he was dead.

Aiden’s face was twisted up in silent agony.

His mouth open as if he were still screaming.

Andrew staggered to his feet and vomited the contents of his stomach just as Weston and Caldwell arrived.

“What the fuck?” Weston yelled as he dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

Caldwell was vomiting.

Suddenly sober, and wishing he weren’t, Andrew placed his hand on Weston’s back. For support or his own comfort, he didn’t know, nor did it matter. All that mattered was that his best friend in the entire world was dead, and it was his fault.