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Thoughts skittered through my mind, but mostly, I realized he was here for me.

He would not have returned here had I not agreed to get on that plane with Cormac.

My heart twisted, and I took a deep breath, trying to reconcile the image of Lorcan and his simple life in Byron Bay with the magnificence of his ancestry.

But what did I know about his life in Byron Bay?

“If your family owns all the Marquess’s properties, what happened to the title of Marquess? Who holds it now?”

Lorcan’s eyes darkened, and he hunched over his plate, studying it intently. His jaw tightened. “That’s not something I want to discuss.”

His tone was clipped, and the walls he’d built around this part of his life became almost palpable.

Part of me wanted to retreat, but I needed to know.

“Does it have anything to do with Lady Isobel?” I didn’t want to provoke him, but I couldn’t keep the question inside.

An inexplicable fear crept up my chest that somehow my ancestor had brought his to ruin with her madness.

“The title of Marquess…” Lorcan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes glued to the door, every muscle in his arms tense.

“The visibility of the Marquess faded in the 1850s.” Cormac’s smooth and authoritative voice cut through the tension like a blade, his entrance as seamless as if he’d been waiting for the perfect moment.

“I rescued this from Dani on my way up.” He set a pot on the buffet before removing the lid from the plate.

He placed a delicate china plate with eggs, toast, avocado, and tomatoes on the table before me, then retrieved the pot of coffee.

“I had them use soda bread for your toast. I hope you don’t mind. ” He beamed at me.

“Thank you.” I returned his smile but glimpsed Lorcan’s eyes narrowing. My smile faltered as the air thickened between them.

Cormac moved to the buffet and selected a teapot that he set in front of himself, just out of my view.

I returned my gaze to Lorcan. He glanced away from his brother to me, an uneasiness etched in the corners of his mouth.

When I turned to see what caused the issue, Cormac dropped his lapel from one hand while his other moved across his chest. Had he just put something in his pocket?

Why would that make Lorcan react like that?

Lorcan glared at his brother. Curiosity gripped my stomach. Cormac held the teapot under the spout of the samovar. The water filling the pot echoed around the stillness of the room. What had I missed?

Cormac sat down, taking the chair between Lorcan and me, and placed the teapot in front of Lorcan. Cormac’s bloodshot eyes hinted at a lack of sleep. He turned his gaze toward his brother, cocking his head and nudging the pot toward him. “Brother, have some tea.”

Lorcan was about to retort when Cormac tightened his jaw. Lorcan returned the stony look before his eyes broke away. It was like the argument on the flight about the whiskey all over again. “Fine.”

Cormac smiled and turned to me. “In 1855, the Marquess and his family departed Ireland for America.”

I struggled to maintain my composure, wanting to demand what this silent argument was about, even knowing I would get nothing from them. I took a bite of my toast, allowing the bread to melt over my tongue, the creamy avocado tasting heavenly.

“At the time, there was great interest within the British monarchy to understand how Irish citizens were faring after fleeing our homeland during the potato famine. The Marquess and his family visited several large cities to meet with Irish immigrants, understand the communities they had formed, and work with the American government to improve their lives. There were significant issues.” He paused.

“However, after traveling to cities like Boston, New York, Charleston, New Orleans, and Savannah, the Marquess’s family… disappeared.”

The way Cormac’s voice lowered on the word “disappeared” sent a chill down my spine.

The picture his words painted reached out; the history rippling through the family’s veins was extraordinary.

They knew so much, and I knew so little.

My mind raced with possibilities, each one more impossible than the last. “Disappeared? How does an envoy to the United States just vanish?”

“Rumor had it the family met with foul play,” Cormac replied.

“Some letters and information were sent back to the royal household, but just enough to indicate the bloodline was unbroken.” A smile that I didn’t understand played on Cormac’s lips.

I glanced at Lorcan, who leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl fixed firmly on his face.

Their expressions mirrored each other as if they shared a secret I shouldn’t uncover.

The notion of such a powerful family vanishing seemed absurd, especially as I sat at breakfast with their descendants. “What really happened?” I asked.

Cormac shrugged. “Well, according to our records, the family did encounter foul play.”

Rory entered, and something in Cormac’s smile shifted. Lorcan’s quiet laugh didn’t help. I looked at them all, feeling like I’d wandered into a scene where everyone else already knew the ending.

“Nothing but a misunderstanding, darling,” Rory said, her Southern drawl sugary sweet before she kissed Cormac. “I’m going to take some tea back to our room and rest longer.”

“Do you need me? Are you feeling alright?” Cormac’s eyes grew wide as he laid a hand on Rory’s abdomen.

They gazed at each other, their eyes reflecting an eternal love.

I glanced at Lorcan as my heart fluttered.

He watched them, his expression unreadable.

A dull weight pooled in my chest, and the corners of my mouth felt heavy.

I pasted a smile in place, refusing to admit how much I longed for Lorcan to look at me like that.

“Don’t let me interrupt. I’ll be fine. I’m just tired. Good morning, Briar… Lorcan.” She walked to the buffet and prepared one of the pots. “Briar, I should still be ready to leave around eight o’clock.”

I smiled at her. “I’ll be ready.”

Cormac looked back at me, returning to his story, where he left off.

“In 1858, the O’Cillians were the target of an assassination attempt in Savannah.

No one at court knew why or who had orchestrated it, but it was known the O’Cillians had made powerful enemies on both sides of the ocean.

The family ran for their lives, going underground.

They lived in Kentucky for a time before moving to Charleston and eventually returning to their home in Ireland. ”

My legs grew cold as I thought of the horrors of running and hiding. “That’s fascinating,” I said, but fascinating wasn’t the right word—it was tragic and haunting.

Cormac smiled. “Yes, well, by the time they returned, almost an entire generation had passed. By then, a new Marquess held the title—one unknown to Queen Victoria. Without royal acknowledgment, their influence quietly faded. Shortly after the company was created, the Marquess moved to a private island in the British Virgin Islands. One Marquess after the next has been an eccentric recluse, never taking their seat in the House of Lords. Maybe that will change someday. Maybe not.”

I studied the faces of the brothers. Lorcan, his lips drawn and eyes flashing with anger, and Cormac, his shoulders back and head held high. I turned to Cormac. “As the eldest, you’re the next Marquess, aren’t you?”

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he exchanged a glance with his brother. “If I told you that, I wouldn’t be much of an eccentric recluse, would I?”

My mind spun. Since we had been here, I had suspected that the family was more than just distant relatives of Lord Lorcan, but until now, I hadn’t been sure.

Confusion clouded my mind. The more I learned about Lorcan, my Lorcan, the more it seemed he had concealed himself behind his carefully crafted walls.

My chest hollowed at the thought. He wasn’t my Lorcan, was he?

Silence enveloped us before Cormac turned to Lorcan. “Have you finished going over that paperwork I gave you?”

I glanced at Lorcan. Was he allergic to something in the old building?

His eyes had a slightly bloodshot tinge that hadn’t been there before.

He nodded, his jaw twitching. “It’s all fascinating, brother.

Even so, I don’t want to be involved. I left for a reason.

” His sharp words were decisive, but I caught the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation, maybe even doubt.

Cormac narrowed his eyes, his words sharp. “Your reason gets stronger by the day.” I glanced between them, not understanding the statement.

Lorcan sat forward, his body taut. “Hence why I’m not staying.”

The tension between them was suffocating, yet I couldn’t help wanting to know why Lorcan had turned his back on his family. “I feel like I’m in a conversation I shouldn’t be. Would someone care to explain?”

Lorcan shook his head. “No. No explanation is needed.” His words were measured, and his hands flexed on the table as if suppressing the urge to push the conversation away physically.

Cormac drew his lips tight as he raised his cup to his mouth. “Aiden isn’t just going to stop. And if you don’t help us, it doesn’t matter where you’re hiding. He will find you.”

The words were more a promise than a threat. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and the room grew colder. Was this what Lorcan was hiding from?

Lorcan shook his head. The determination in his voice was harsh, the words underscored with a slight growl.

“I’ll move, then. I have no desire to be tied up with Aiden.

If you want to save him from himself, that’s all on you.

But don’t drag me into it.” His words were final, not to be argued with, but his knuckles whitened where he gripped the edge of the table.

“Well, brother, it’s only with your help that we’ll stop him and save this family.” Cormac’s tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, a challenge issued under the guise of reason.

Anger flashed in Lorcan’s beautiful blue eyes. “Enough. I’m done with this conversation.” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest like a shield, his jaw set in defiance.