Prologue
Wilt Hotham stood behind the chair, fingers drumming upon the wood. “Do you have news to report?”
“I’m afraid so, my lord,” answered the messenger, eyes shifting.
“What is this news?”
“Remember, I am but the messenger.”
“Of course, I understand. Now get on with it. Give me the news of my brother. Was he successful?”
The messenger trembled as he answered, “Nay.”
“Nay?” Wilt widened his eyes. Anger caused sweat to bead upon his brow. Hands clenched by his sides, he waited for more.
“Nay, sir. Unsuccessful, I’m afraid. The mistress of Greenbriar wasn’t to his… liking.”
Wilt flung his arms into the air, stomping his feet. His hands flipped the table, sending decanters full of whiskey against the wall. Amber-colored ink trailed downward, pooling silently on the white rug. Wilt’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits as he saw the servant shy away.
Good. At least someone recognized his power.
After the tirade passed, Wilt jerked his waistcoat down, placed thumbs against his ribcage and asked the servant to continue with the news.
Straightening from a cowering position, the servant began again with a trembling voice. “Your brother returned home and, well, he…”
“Aye? What happened? Let me guess. Spent the whole week in the bedroom weeping like a child! Our family is in ruins. Our wealth completely disappeared because of his ‘habits.’ Our one chance to rectify the situation and he finds the bride unsatisfactory.” Taking a deep breath to calm his wildly beating heart, Wilt stared at the servant. “You will travel to see my brother. You will tell him he must go back and marry the mistress, claim the land for his own, and sell it. I don’t care whether the woman is to his liking or not! I will not lose everything because my brother is unwilling to experience the least amount of discomfort!”
The servant shuffled his feet.
“Do stop your fidgeting, and do as I say!”
“But, my lord—”
“What is it now?”
“I am afraid—”
“Aye? What is it? Come out with it then?”
“I’m afraid your brother is dead.”