“Devvie!” Cecilia threw her arms over my shoulders, burying her face in my neck. “How we’ve missed you! Mummy said you wouldn’t be here until tomorrow.”
I wrapped my arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “Lovely girl, I will always be here for you.”
Even if I have to honor the wanker who gave me life.
“My goodness. I almost had a heart attack!” Mother cried out. She hobbled toward me, her heels sinking into the muddy ground. The air smelled like English rain. Like home. I collected her in my arms and squeezed, kissing her cheek.
“Mummy.”
Mourners began huddling toward us, curious glances on their faces. It made me pettily content, knowing I’d yet again stolen the limelight from Edwin, even on his last journey.
Mum reared her head back, placing her frozen palms on my cheeks, tears making her eyes glitter. “You’re so handsome. So … so tall! I keep forgetting your face if I don’t see you over a few months.”
Despite myself, something between a grumble and a laugh escaped me.
I’d been so adamant not to return to England as long as my father was alive, I almost forgot how much I had missed Mother and Cecilia.
“You managed to make it, ay? Good on you, mate.” Drew clapped my back.
Still hugging my mother, I felt a hesitant hand on my arm. When I swiveled my head, I caught Cecilia smiling shyly, her skin pink, fragile as lightbulb glass.
“I’ve missed you, Brother,” she said quietly.
“Cece,” I growled, almost in pain. I stepped out of the embrace with my mother and gathered my sister into my arms. Her yellow curls tickled my nose. I was surprised to discover she still smelled of green apples, winter, and the woods. Of a childhood with too many rules and too little laughs.
Regret ripped me open.
I’d all but deserted my younger sister. Left her to fend for herself when she was a teenager.
Mum was right. Coming back to England did resurface old memories and unsolved issues.
“Will you be staying for a while?” Cece pleaded.
“I’m staying for a few days.” I stroked her hair, glancing over the top of her head and making eye contact with Drew, who shifted from foot to foot, looking anything but happy to have another male in the house. “At least,” I added meaningfully.
She quivered in my arms, and suddenly, I became furious with myself for not being more involved in her life. Growing up, she’d always needed me, and I was always there. Yet somehow my hatred toward my father made me miss her wedding three years ago.
“Are you happy with him?” I mouthed into her hair so only she could hear me.
“I—” she started.
“Well, well,” Benedict said, with Byron on his heels. He squeezed my shoulder. “I thought I’d see pigs fly before I caught sight of Devon Whitehall back on British soil.”
I disconnected from Cecilia, shaking his and his brother’s hands.
“My apologies, but the only pigs I know are right here on earth, and looking like they could use a trip to rehab.”
Benedict’s smile collapsed. “Very funny.” He grit his teeth. “I have thyroid issues, for your information.”
“And you, Byron?” I turned to his brother. “What issues are preventing you from looking like a sober, functioning member of society?”
“Not all of us are so vain as to mind their appearance as much. I hear you’re a self-made millionaire now.” Byron smoothed his suit with his hand.
I finished off my fag and flicked the bud toward the grave. “I get by.”
“Being known for your accomplishments is such hard work. Better to be known by your last name and inheritance.” Benedict cackled. “Either way, it’s good to have you back.”
Thing was, I wasn’t back. I was just a visitor. A bystander in a life that was no longer mine.
I’d built a life elsewhere. It was tied to the Fitzpatrick family, who took me under their wing. With my law firm, and my fencing, and the women I wooed. With a new twist in my story, Emmabelle Penrose, a girl who had more demons than gowns in her closet.
As people engulfed me from all directions, demanding to hear about my life in America—my mates, my partners, my clients, my conquests—I noticed only one person stayed away, on the other side of the dirt-filled shallow grave.
Louisa Butchart studied me from a safe distance under her lashes. Her mouth was curled in a slight pucker, her back arched, as if flaunting her new assets.
“Come now.” Mother laced my arm in hers, tugging me toward the sprawling manor. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk to Lou. I cannot wait to show you off to all the servants.”