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tree and stood immobile watching them. She ran towards him.
    “Brandon!” she whispered. He didn’t seem to notice her. His demeanor was forbidding, but it didn’t stop her from wrapping her hand around his taut bicep. A haze of misty rain shrouded over them.
    “Come away, Brandon,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”
    “The bastard.”
    Justine returned her gaze to the window. William folded Amanda into his embrace, and Amanda’s neck arched up as she laughed once again. Justine’s hand tightened around Brandon’s arm as she pressed closer into him. His arm shook under her fingers.
    “I had to see it for myself,” he said, his voice raspy.
    “She thought you were dead. We all did. Had you been engaged to marry?”
    “No, but ‘tis no matter any longer.”
    “It matters to you.”
    The rain drops began to fall heavier, fatter, faster. Brandon’s jaw clenched, his wet hair matted against his face. “He probably knew I was alive all along.”
    “No, Brandon, we were told you were dead. William grieved for you. It was a few months later that he found out you were alive, and then the lies and deception began.”
    He said nothing but continued to stare at William and Amanda. The rain drops’ persistent beating on the leaves and the grass pounded in Justine’s ears. Icy coldness seeped through her veins. She had to get him to leave here before they were seen. More importantly, before Brandon sank further into a pit of black humor or rage.
    He turned to face her once again, his face ashen. “This is the life I would have had, isn’t it? This is what was expected of us: the comforts of a fine house, a fitting spouse, a child? This is what our parents planned for all of us.” His gaze fell to the ground, his scars glistening in the rain. “And what home do I have now, Justine?” His voice was rougher now. “An empty shell of an estate. No father. A wife I had no knowledge of borne from a girl I no longer seem to know. And what family I do have left is stealing from me and plotting my demise.” His chest expanded as he took in air. “All in ruins, all of it. I will destroy William. I swear it.”
    “He’s not worth the effort.” Her fingers clutched at his wet cloak.
    “Why not? He’s stolen everything from me.”
    “No, he hasn’t. You have Wolfsgate. Hurting William won’t bring back Lord Jeremy or time lost or your full health. I beg you, Brandon. Don’t do something rash.”
    “Do you think I cannot take on William?”
    “I have no doubts on that score, but I don’t want you to get hurt in any way. If you concentrate on getting stronger and bringing the estate back to its full strength, that alone will destroy his pride. That is your best course of revenge.”
    “You must be an expert of all things William by now.” Brandon smashed his lips together and returned his gaze to the window. “I want to make him suffer.”
    Justine’s heart thudded in her chest. “Please, let’s go back to the house. Your house.”
    “It’s odd how all this feels foreign to me.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Society, relations, home.” His head tilted back, and he exhaled heavily, his wet hair in slick locks around his temple. “I’m flailing in the dark here, licking my wounds like some pathetic animal. Yet it’s absurd, for I can’t even make sense of what it is I’m feeling.” His aching voice trailed off in the cold, humid air.
    “Loss?” she asked settling her hands on his trembling chest.
    Brandon nodded. “You, too, know loss well.” His eyes were heavy, his cold fingers tightened around hers.
    She squeezed his hand. “I do, and I can tell you it will probably hurt for a long while yet. But you’re alive Brandon, and you’re healing. You must give yourself time.”
    “He took time from me! Time I will never have back.”
    Justine leaned into him. “Yes, he did. So better for you to get stronger and claim your rightful place at Wolfsgate. I’ll help you.”
    “You cannot help