Page 7

I t took some time before the friends could process the grim situation.

Then they draped Aiden’s body face down on his mount.

Andrew climbed on Merlin, even though it was the last place he wanted to be, and grabbed the reins of Aiden’s horse, and led the way back to the Sutton Estate.

Not a word was said amongst them. Andrew’s heart burned inside his chest. His throat was scraped raw, and his eyes stung from the copious amount of tears he couldn’t seem to stop from flowing down his face.

Even though he had witnessed it, he couldn’t comprehend that Aiden was gone.

This sort of tragic thing happened to other people, not to them.

The four of them had been the closest friends since their first day at Eton. Four friends were now three.

“Christ,” he mumbled as he fought the bile rising up his throat.

How could this be happening? His entire being was numb and encased in fog.

Nothing appeared real. It all seemed dreamlike and incomprehensible.

Andrew felt as though he was living somewhere in between death and reality.

It was an awful place to be. And knowing he was responsible for Aiden’s death only heightened everything happening around him.

He was the one who had suggested racing.

He was the one who had allowed Aiden to ride Merlin against his own better wisdom.

There was already another strain on their friendship, and he hadn’t wanted to create more by refusing to let Aiden ride his horse.

And because of that, his friend was dead.

As they rode slowly, Andrew’s mind kept screaming, “Make it right!”

Instead of going to the stables, which was another decision he would come to regret, Andrew led them to the front of the estate, forcing his mind to focus on what must be done.

He prayed Emmeline was nowhere close by.

He didn’t want to see her, nor did he want her to see Aiden’s body like this.

What would he tell her? How could he tell her Aiden was dead because of him?

He had to remind himself that this wasn’t about him.

It was about Aiden and Emmeline. Emmeline became a widow at the age of twenty-two.

“Bloody hell,” he swore as they stopped before the double front doors.

A footman hurried forward, his eyes wide.

“Please get the marquess and hurry,” Andrew said.

The footman rushed off while the three friends dismounted and handed their horses to a stable boy who suddenly stood beside them.

It wasn’t long before Lord Sutton hurried down the front stairs.

His eyes went to Aiden’s body draped across his horse.

“Someone, please tell me what happened,” the marquess groaned. “And please tell me that is not the dead body of Mr. Fitzpatrick!”

Lady Sutton gasped and covered her mouth as she hurried down the stairs with a crowd of ladies following closely behind, no doubt coming from the drawing room, wanting to see what the commotion was about.

“Please don’t let Emmeline be among them. Please don’t let Emmeline be among them,” Andrew mumbled.

Sutton held up his hand. “My dear, take the ladies back inside the drawing room now.”

“Is that . . .?”

It was too late. He heard her voice. Before he could move, thank Christ, Weston rushed forward, grabbed Emmeline by the arm, and hurried her back inside the house and to the currently vacant library. He and Caldwell were on their heels. Caldwell quietly shut the door, giving them privacy.

Weston led Emmeline to a chair. Andrew nudged his way in front of her and fell on his knees, taking her hands in his trembling ones. Hers were shaking as well, and her face had lost all color.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“We were being stupid,” Caldwell interjected.

“We were all drunk,” Weston added.

Andrew swallowed down the lump in his throat, and before he could say anything else, Weston blurted out, “We raced. Aiden fell off his horse. It happened so fast. I’m so sorry.

” He dropped his head into his hands, his body shaking as he sobbed.

Caldwell stood off to the side now, silent in his grief.

“He raced while drunk?” Emmeline questioned, her eyes wide with shock. “But Aiden is a terrible horseman. I can’t believe he would do such a thing. And how could Lord Sutton have given Aiden anything but a docile mount knowing how badly he rides?”

Andrew looked at his two friends and shook his head ever so slightly hoping they understood that he would explain the rest.

“He rode my horse, Merlin. Though he is as tame as they come.” The lie about Merlin being tame came easy to his lips, but his insides churned with the untruth.

“How badly is he hurt? Did someone call for a physician? I want to see him.” Emmeline tried to pull her hands from his and stand, but Andrew didn’t let her go, forcing her to stay seated.

“I’m sorry, Emmeline. Aiden is... is... dead,” Andrew choked out through the tears clogging his throat.

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head.

“No. No. No. He can’t be dead. Not my Aiden.

Not Aiden. Noooo!” she screamed as she pulled her hands from his and shoved Andrew away so forcefully he ended up on his arse on the carpet.

She ran to the door, but Caldwell blocked her from exiting.

“Noooo!” she screamed again. Andrew scrambled to his feet, hurried to her, and tried to console her.

But she was inconsolable as she started smacking him in the chest repeatedly and yelling over and over again, “No! No! No!” The hitting didn’t cease, and he didn’t stop her.

As far as he was concerned, he deserved her anger and much more.

When she finally tired and gripped his upper arms for support, he clutched her to him, one of his hands rubbing her back. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmured. Time was suspended indefinitely as they sobbed into each other’s arms.

*

Emmeline became aware of several things at once. She was sobbing uncontrollably in Andrew’s arms. His body shook against hers as he cried, too. She couldn’t see Weston or Caldwell, but she knew they were there. Was she having a nightmare and still lying in bed?

No. The pain in her chest was all too real and excruciating.

The lump in her throat was real; she felt it every time she swallowed.

Her tears, which she thought would never dry up, continued to slide down her face and soak the front of her dress and Andrew’s shirt.

Life as she knew it ended when Andrew said, Aiden is dead. How was that possible? Why did he have to be the one to die? She wanted her mother, and she needed to go home. She hadn’t felt this broken since her father had passed two years ago.

Two hours later, Emmeline was sitting with her maid in her carriage for the four-hour trek to London.

Behind them, Andrew, Weston, and Caldwell rode on horseback while Aiden’s body was strapped to the top of Andrew’s carriage inside a wooden box.

Behind them was Beckett with her and Aiden’s trunks.

Rolling behind them all were Weston’s coach, their valets, and trunks.

Sitting beside Emmeline, Amanda held her hand.

Not a word was said during the carriage ride, and they never made a stop.

She couldn’t speak as she was shrouded in sorrow so acute she didn’t know if she would ever come out the other side.

Ever be whole again. Ever feel anything else but this sadness overwhelming her soul.

As she sat, holding Amanda’s hand, Emmeline stared out the window, seeing only a blur of green and brown.

Eventually, the countryside was replaced with the sights and sounds of London.

Emmeline tugged her hand from Amanda’s and covered her ears.

She felt suddenly eight years old again, a little girl hiding beneath a table during a ball.

Her senses were hyper-aware, and she wanted to scream, run, and hide away where no one could find her.

The sounds bombarding her were the worst. They surrounded her, paralyzing her in her seat and making her gasp for air.

The noises cocooned her body and refused to let her free.

When the carriage door opened, her eyes widened, and her gasps for air increased which made her dizzy. Swirls of blackness spun in her eyes until nothing.

*

Andrew swept Emmeline into his arms as her mother rushed down the front stairs. “What has happened?” the dowager baroness asked, pale with worry.

“She has fainted.”

“Come this way.” The baroness led Andrew into the house and up the stairs and had him place Emmeline on the drawing room settee. “Why did my daughter faint? And where is her husband?”

Weston and Caldwell followed them into the drawing room, looking as if they wanted to be anywhere but there. Weston replied before Andrew could. “There was a riding accident. I’m so sorry. Aiden is dead. His body is being brought in.”

“No,” the baroness cried as she sat on the edge of the settee, stroking her daughter’s hair. “My poor, poor girl.”

“Mama,” Emmeline murmured as her eyes fluttered open, and Andrew’s entire body froze as he glimpsed the silent agony from deep within her eyes.

Her mother continued stroking Emmeline’s hair. “Gentlemen, thank you for returning my daughter and Aiden’s body, but we would prefer to be alone with our grief.”

Andrew, Weston, and Caldwell left with their heads down and hearts heavy. At least Andrew’s heart was, and he had no doubt his friends’ were as well.

*