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his chest. “Don’t apologize.”
    Something told him he was going to love this girl for the rest of his life. She cradled him as if he deserved it. He swallowed and tightened his hold again, settling into a sense of calm knowing what his future would bring: her.
    They rocked each other in silence.
    She eventually pried herself from his arms but didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Holbrook. Losing a parent is never easy. I should know. I’ll leave you alone with him. Please let my father know if you need anything.” She quietly walked over to the door and lingered for a moment before her steps echoed down the corridor.
    A gargled breath trembled from his father’s body, startling Derek. Knowing his father needed him, he stumbled toward him. Sinking against the side of the bed, Derek grabbed his limp hand, his hands trembling in an effort to hold onto his father’s warmth. “I know you always tell me to never cry. So don’t think I’m dishonoring you. I’m not. I simply need to honor you in my way. And crying is my way of—”
    A deep anguished sob escaped him knowing his perfect world wasn’t perfect anymore. Perhaps it had never been. Perhaps the laughter they always shared in had hidden the worst in all of them. Regardless, it was now up to him to uphold the family name. For the world, for Andrew, for his mother and cousins, he would be what he was expected to be: strong, responsible and reliable. But for Clementine, he would be everything he already was and wanted to be: hers.

February 26, 1830 – early evening
    Essex, England – The Banfield country estate
    To the Right Honorable Viscount Banfield,
    I regret to inform you that your brother owes me a substantial amount of money after a generous investment I made in the publication of his recent book. I thought I might solicit my original investment and humbly expect the full one thousand two hundred pounds to be delivered into my hands by the end of this month. If you choose to ignore this letter, or the amount owed, I will ensure your brother’s crass association with the Duchess of Winchester will be made known in every last respectable circle. Her husband, from what I am told, is an excellent duelist well known for—
     
    Derek didn’t even bother reading the rest of Lord Trent’s letter. He doubted he’d get anything more out of it. One would think after his own antics prior to their father’s death, he’d be used to handling his brother’s tomfoolery.
    One would think.
    Glancing at the closed door of the study, Derek Charles Holbrook, Viscount Banfield, tore the parchment in half. Tossing the torn missive into the flames of the hearth beside him, he watched the paper blacken and curl until it frayed into grey ash that collapsed against the coals.
    He groaned. One thousand, two hundred pounds? Christ. He’d have to sell every horse in the stable, including the harnesses, the saddles, the whips, the hay, and all the help.
    Air. He needed air. He needed—
    Jogging across the study, he unhinged the iron latch and folded out the windows facing the open fields and frost-covered gardens below. A cold breeze laced with heavy flakes of snow drifted into the study. He dragged in a deep breath in a valiant attempt to focus.
    Old lanterns creaked and swayed against the wind, dimly illuminating the vast walking grounds that were blanketed in white just beyond the ancestral home. An ancestral home that had been dependent all these years on Mr. Grey’s generosity. A generosity Derek would never intrude upon by asking for more money even if he needed it. Because aside from the unending honor of marrying Clementine, he was also getting three million to do it.
    He was still recovering from the amount.
    Whilst his father had once been dubbed the ‘Laughing Viscount,’ Derek was now being dubbed the ‘Golden Viscount’ by snide audiences due to the ridiculous amount of money he’d soon be marrying into. Of course, those snide