Chapter One

“Josephine!” Josephine’s friend cried out as her coachmen helped her from her carriage, her arms outstretched and open wide. At first, Josephine stood there with a smile, not wanting to seem too eager. But as Josephine began to tear up a little, she picked up the bottom of her dress and ran over to her. The two of them embraced tightly.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Josephine said as she let Erica go, Erica’s ebony curly bangs bouncing around her face. Her eyes were still the same steel grey Josephine remembered, full of the same childlike wonder they’d always had, but yet, she seemed like she’d matured past her years in the months they’d been apart.

“Shall we go inside for tea today?” Erica asked.

“Oh, no,” Josephine said, shaking her head. “On a beautiful day like today, with you finally here? This calls for something special… follow me!”

Josephine took Erica by the hand, and the two of them ran off giddily, dashing off towards the place where they’d spent many days of their childhood, rain or shine – Josephine’s mother’s coveted rose garden.

“It’s so lovely to see you again, Erica,” Josephine said as her friend sat down at the stone table by the rose bushes, Josephine reaching forward and pouring Erica a cup of tea. It had been quite a while since the two had seen one another, and it was always a grand time when she was around. They’d been friends since they were young, their mothers entirely close themselves, and their bond had survived the sands of time. But with Erica now married to the Duke of Berkshire, tea times had gone from weekly bouts to few and far between, leaving Josephine often feeling rather lonely at the Compton estate.

“Indeed, it is,” Erica said with a smile.

“Sugar?” Josephine asked, placing her hand on the dish of sugar cubes.

“Yes, please,” Erica replied, and Josephine slid the container and poured a cup for herself. The citrusy smell of bergamot filled the air as the steam rose from their drinks, rivalling the soft aroma of the roses nearby.

“So, what has life been like in Berkshire with the duke? Your letters have been few and far between,” Josephine couldn’t help but tease her newly wed friend.

“I’m so sorry, Josephine,” Erica said.

“You are forgiven, I suppose,” Josephine said with a mischievous grin. “Well out with it, Duchess of Berkshire. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

“Oh, so many things,” Erica replied. “Your life truly changes when you marry a duke.”

“I can imagine,” Josephine replied. “I recall my mother saying as much when she spoke about marrying father.”

“Being a duchess is certainly more work than I imagined,” Erica sighed. “I mean, I wasn’t entirely oblivious about it either, I knew appearances must be kept, but it feels never-ending. And then when he goes off on business, I hate being alone in the manor, you know?”

“If being alone bothers you that much, you could always come here to visit whenever he leaves,” Josephine suggested. Josephine had missed Erica terribly since she’d been wed and hoped that putting out the suggestion would prompt her to come more often.

Josephine did enjoy the company of her father and aunt, but Erica had been the sister she never had. She could think of incidents her father and aunt were ignorant of, but Erica was present at all of them.

“I will keep that in mind,” Erica replied. “Though I can’t be away from home too much, lest the vulturous journalists claim some scandal in the papers.”

“Ah yes, the gossip sheets,” Josephine replied as she rolled her eyes. “Always a nuisance.”

“Agreed,” Erica said with a nod. “You know, I miss when we were little, to be honest. Though I do enjoy the parties and gatherings, I miss when your mother, my mother and the two of us would frolic right in this very garden. Rain or shine.”

“I know what you mean,” Josephine replied with a sigh. “Those were certainly simpler times.” Times I genuinely treasure and pine for…  Josephine didn’t dare to say this last part out loud. The last thing she wanted was for Erica to worry about her, especially when her visits seemed to be fading away…

“We could most undoubtedly let our hair down when no one was looking,” Erica replied with a giggle. “Nowadays, I am lucky to get a true moment to myself, and there’s so much pressure with everyone asking if I’m with child yet…I didn’t think I would be so busy answering such personal questions most of my days. I knew how the ton was but still… It’s enough to infuriate you sometimes.”

Josephine truly sympathized with her friend. Children and family making were a part of marriage, and the fact that she wasn’t already with child as it was expected of her had upset Erica, though she was probably too proud to admit it. Having children was a miracle of life; Josephine was quite sure of that; however, she felt for her friend and their position as women.

A woman’s place in the ton was to be prim, proper, and beautiful representations of le beau monde. They were to be picturesque reflections of their husbands and bear children to carry on their lineage. Continuing to give birth to children until an heir was produced to pass down their role to, whether it be duke, earl, viscount or baron. Wanting to keep their positions etched in history under their family name for the rest of time…

Traditions Josephine herself found to be ignorant of women’s concerns, but she could never openly say so, not wanting to bring dishonour on her father, the Earl of Northampton.

“Do you remember that one day when we were children, and my mother brought us out in our dresses just to jump in muddy puddles?” Josephine asked, a smile slipping across her face.

“I recall your father turning redder than a beet when he saw we were covered in muck, and we all had a giggling fit—”

“—Yes, including mother,” Josephine chimed in, trying not to let their reminiscing get to her too much. She found sometimes it was hard to talk about her mother, but with Erica, she felt it was a little bit easier. As if she could be more herself, let her emotions out a little, where in the house she felt as though she had to be strong…especially for her father’s sake.

“‘It isn’t ladylike’, father would huff every time, and mother would laugh, not at all bothered by his scolding,” Josephine said with a grin.

“She was truly remarkable,” Erica replied with a chuckle. “I was sad to see her go.”

“As was I,” Josephine replied. “It truly hasn’t been the same since she left us….” Josephine felt swept away in a current of her own emotions, the smile disappearing from her face as she tried to remember her mother’s beautiful face. Her mother had been said to be the most beautiful woman of the entire ton, but the more time went on, the more her image faded from Josephine’s memories. She sometimes had trouble remembering what she sounded like, making her wish that there had been some way to preserve her voice for all eternity. Listening to it whenever she’d liked. Instead, all she was left with was paintings on her walls to try to keep it all pieced together.

In those playful moments in the downpours, Josephine had felt normal. No expectations, no ‘this isn’t ladylike, nor ‘act civil’ echoing about, no ton rules nor etiquette. Just Josephine and her mother being themselves as if the ton didn’t exist. They were recollections that Josephine kept close to her heart as treasured. They were different from the ton, not stuffed shirts but real people, her mother would joke, and that’s what Josephine had tried to be to this day.

Real. Genuine. Not just some painted woman in a dress on display.

“Enough about me and all of that; what about yourself?” Erica asked. “What mischief have you been engaged in while I have been gone?”

“Not much has changed, honestly,” Josephine sighed. “Still going to the same old balls, dances, and tea parties as per usual. Same boring talks about the same droll subjects…it never truly deviates.”

“Yes, but now you are on Lord Henry’s arm,” Erica replied with a mischievous grin. “He seems like a more than worthy fellow to receive your admiration. How is everything going with him? Do not spare the details!”

Josephine struggled to find the words she knew Erica expected to hear. It was true that she and Lord Henry Watson were courting and had been for a while now. However, from the very beginning, it had been more a relationship of convenience rather than one of romance; nothing like it had been with Erica and her husband. Neither Henry nor Josephine cared for any of the ton’s rules and traditions but they also knew that neither of them had any other choice on the matter.

With Josephine being the Earl of Northampton’s daughter, many had an eye on her, and many a man had wished to court her—which had been taxing, to say the least. That was why she had felt so thankful that she and Lord Henry Watson had connected.

Henry wasn’t like the rest of the haut ton either, not so much a black sheep like herself, but a free thinker nonetheless. Though Josephine had initially agreed to start courting him to retain some seeling of stability, she’d come to like him and someday hoped she’d learn to love him past their friendship.

It wasn’t that Henry wasn’t charming or handsome, he truly was, and they’d been acquaintances since they’d been children. But it hadn’t been until recently at a ball that they’d gotten to know one another, and from the dance they’d shared there, a natural rapport had bloomed between them.

From that cordialness sprouted a courtship which had begun to blossom as well, and she found she immensely enjoyed his company. Being on his arm at events was not only a fun experience—their conversations were actually engaging, but not the same pompous drivel she was used to—it also meant she could breathe at the events.

But she knew Erica didn’t want to hear any of that. In fact, her attitude about engagement and courtship was quite…strange compared to others of her age. They all couldn’t wait to be partnered off with some wealthy bachelor, but for Josephine, she wanted to take her time and make sure that Henry was someone she could truly spend her life with. So, instead, she embellished their situation a bit to reassure Erica she experienced the same exciting emotions her friend did ever since she had found true love in her husband, the Duke of Berkshire.

“Things between the two of us seem to be going quite well,” Josephine replied, allowing her imagination to run wild. “We are so much in love, more than I could have ever imagined.”

“Oh? Do tell!” Erica replied enthusiastically.

“Well, Henry and I love to walk in the park, and we’ve been to the opera just recently. We’ve been to many a ball together, and he is quite the dancer, sweeping me right off my feet….”

“Being a good dancer is important at these events,” Erica replied. “Are there any settled plans in play for marriage?”

“Well, yes,” Josephine replied. “I am already familiar with his mother and father, and they are quite lovely. We are dying to get married, but we want it to be perfect. We miss one another so much when he’s gone, and he sends me a letter each week. He even writes on the days we do see one another. It’s like…a fairy tale.”

“Wow,” Erica breathed, seeming to be caught up in the whimsy of Josephine’s forked tongue. “That sounds amazing. Much like Harold and I when we first met. He used to write me poetry, pining for me when I wasn’t there.”

“That sounds so lovely,” Josephine said as she put her hand to her heart, wishing that Henry would send her a poem. Maybe someday we will get there, Josephine thought with hope in her heart. He is quite perfect for me in personality and intelligence, and he is so very handsome. So, I can only hope poetry will flood in soon…

The two ladies talked and tittered together until it started to sprinkle. With the impending storm signalled by the quickly darkening skies, Erica begrudgingly decided to take her leave.

“I’m sorry to cut today short,” Erica said forlornly. “It’s not often I can make the trip here anymore.”

“No worries, my dear friend,” Josephine said with a smile. “There will be other times, I’m sure. The duke cannot keep you all to himself forever, right?”

“I suppose,” Erica replied with a giggle. “Though if he had the chance, he just might!” Erica held out her arms wide, and Josephine came in for a hug, the two of them embracing for a moment as the carriage came around to the front door, the horses’ hooves pulling the rather garish carriage clomping on the ground. Erica let Josephine go gently, walked out towards the cabin, and climbed into it.

Josephine waved as Erica peered out the window at her, watching until the wagon was all but out of sight, and headed inside, to her bedchamber. Feeling a little streak of melancholy as she always did when Erica left, Josephine grabbed a book and sat by the window, staring as the gentle droplets of rain ran down the glass. Josephine closed her eyes as she savoured the soft, muted pangs of the water as it hit its smooth surface, calmness washing over her as she started to drift off. Dreaming of Erica, their mothers and herself all playing in the rain…

“Lady Josephine,” a familiar voice called out to her, and she sighed, her moment of sanctity now interrupted. It was her maid standing at the doorway.

“Yes, Miss Valentine?” Josephine asked, unmoving from her chair. She didn’t want to get up, especially not with the calm still lingering despite Miss Valentine’s intrusion on such a lovely day. As she woke up a bit more, she realised how unusual it was for Miss Valentine to come barging in like she had, completely out of character for the always calm and collected maid. But something seemed off, and she wasn’t going to reprimand her. At least not just yet.

“I’m sorry for bothering you whilst you’re resting, but a letter from Lord Henry Watson has arrived,” Miss Valentine said as she stood at the door. Josephine’s icy, blue eyes flickered back open as she looked towards her maid, arching an eyebrow at the mention of Henry. It wasn’t like him to write her much more than a letter a week, so it was odd to receive yet another letter. Especially with the disjointed way in which their relationship seemed to operate; more for presence’s sake than anything else.

It truly bothered her, knowing she might have to settle for keeping up appearances. Josephine felt if love were to find her after she’d eventually agreed to take his hand, she would be devastated, it would be too late to change her mind, and she’d be stuck.

Josephine wanted what her parents had had, true love. Not a fake relationship that she’d have to cultivate into something tolerable. Not even a friendship or companionship would do. She wanted to wake up in someone’s arms, feel their warm embrace, or even lock arms with them walking in the garden full of rose bushes and other blooms. A love they would talk about for years to come, transcending the very stars themselves…

“Well, don’t be shy, Miss Valentine. Bring it here,” Josephine replied as she returned to her senses. Miss Valentine’s feet seemed to echo in her ears as she stepped closer and closer, Henry’s wax seal visible as she passed the note.

Josephine carefully wedged a finger underneath the decorative emblem, pulling at it gently until the paper gave way, opening the envelope and taking the letter out. As she unfolded the paper, she noticed that Miss Valentine was still standing there, eyeing her carefully as she seemed to wait with anticipation.

Gadzooks! What seems to be the trouble? Why is she acting so strange?

“That’ll do, Miss Valentine,” Josephine said with a smile, and Miss Valentine nodded.

“If you need anything else, call for me, my lady,” she replied as she hurried out. With Valentine gone, Josephine set her sights back on the letter, and she began to read:

‘My Dearest Josephine,
I hope that this letter finds you well. It’s been weeks since we’ve seen one another, which usually isn’t a problem for either of us, but I find myself missing you more and more, which makes this last letter excruciating to have to write.’

Last letter? Josephine thought. Why would it be the last? What could have possibly happened?

‘I have heard of your father’s latest troubles, and it is with a heavy heart that I must break ties. My father is not pleased, and he was able to look away for a while, but your father’s latest difficulties are very troubling, to say the least.’

 The more Josephine read, the more her chest tightened, her eyes burned with tears that threatened to fall.

‘I do hope that you will be able to recover with your father’s current situation. However, I cannot stand by you at this time. Maybe when everything clears up, things will be different. But we cannot have such a scandal marring our family’s reputation…’

Losing all of our money? What is this about? We haven’t lost all of our money…have we? I mean, father has long had a gambling problem, but he wouldn’t risk it all…right?

Josephine panicked, crumbling the letter in her hand and tossing it to the floor. How could Henry do this to me after all we’ve been through? Josephine grumbled in her mind. For him to leave me in my time of need, like I’m some street urchin he can toss aside when I am not convenient to him… I must get to the bottom of this at once! Josephine thought as she strode into the hallway, down the corridor and straight to her father’s study. My very future seems to be melting right before my eyes, and I must know why.

Chapter Two

As the rain carried on into the night, Edward felt the lull of sleep tugging at him, the smell of the rain like a natural insomnia cure. Edward, however, shrugged off the pull of his bed and instead decided to curl up with a good book where he could hear the pitter-patter of the rain hitting the windowpane.

Having spent the day with his mother, entertaining friends at a luncheon, he felt an itch to have some alone time to unwind that he desperately needed to scratch. And what better way to do that than to get lost in another good book—one that his dear friend Lord John had suggested, handing off his copy to Edward once he was finished with it, and giving it rave reviews.

Edward drew in a deep breath as he opened The Mysteries of Udolpho and began to read, getting quickly drawn into the story and characters, surprised at how fantastic a writer Ann Radcliffe indeed was. I’ll have to thank John for suggesting this; he settled in, his eyes scanning each page carefully, soaking up every bit of story his brain could muster like a sponge.

Though the goal had been to keep himself awake, Edward’s eyelids started to become quite heavy, and before he knew it, he had dozed off. His dreams went from pleasant to wild, a mixture of real-life and the book that remained in his hands, its pages lying face down on his chest, rising and falling with each breath that Edward took.

“Sir, I hate to interrupt you while you’re reading,” Mr Braunsworth—Edward’s long-trusted butler—said quietly as he rapped gently at Lord Edward’s chamber door. Edward jumped slightly, between falling asleep and the spookier title having him a bit on edge, the book sliding off his chest and to the floor as the old man had scared him awake.

Edward put his hand over his chest. His heart thumped so hard he could hear it in his ears. That settles it. He thought to himself as he tried to calm his breathing. No such books before bedtime.

“Criminy!” Edward exclaimed, wide-eyed. “You nearly made me faint!”

“I am sorry, sir,” Mr Braunsworth replied solemnly, “May I please come in, sir?”

“Yes, yes, come in,” Edward replied.

“Again, I apologise, Master Edward,” Mr Braunsworth said as he opened the door, bobbing his head quickly in respect. But as Mr Braunsworth looked up at Edward, he noticed something different about his usual gaze. It was as if he were troubled by something, though Edward couldn’t imagine what. He was a very stoic and serious man.

“It’s quite alright, Mr Braunsworth,” he said as he picked his novel up from the floor and placed it beside him on his nightstand. Edward took his pocket watch out of it and saw that it was getting pretty late, a pang of worry bolting through him. “What is it?”

“Well, there’s sort of…It is to say…an incident has occurred—”

“—an incident?” Edward asked. “What incident?”

“It’s your mother,” Mr Braunsworth replied as he hung his head. “Something is the matter with your brother, His Grace.”

Edward furrowed his brows in confusion. What exactly could be wrong? he thought. He got up from his chair and rushed into the hallway, his mother’s cries loud and resounding down the long hallway. Had Andrew finally got himself in too much trouble with his countless affairs? Had he finally made someone angry enough with his gambling that he’d been picked off? The cogs in Edward’s brain were running over time, and he could feel them tense as he continued down the corridor, noticing the reading room door was wide open. Which was quite peculiar, especially at that hour? And mainly since it seemed like Andrew wasn’t home, given Mr Braunsworth’s statement.

He was nearly breathless as he reached the reading room, his mother sitting with her hand to her head, looking down at a handwritten note. Her maid stood there next to her and attempted to console her, but to no avail. His mother wailed as she gripped the paper tightly, rocking back and forth in her seat.

“How could he do this to us….” his mother muttered, shaking her head furiously as her fist tightened even tighter around the note, the envelope of which had fallen to the floor at her feet.

“Mother? Is everything alright?” Edward called out to her, and his mother looked up at him, appearing to be very troubled. She stopped crying as she saw Edward standing there and tried to force a smile, sniffling to herself as she sat on the edge of her chair. But as Edward neared closer, she began to sob all over again. Her tears came down harder than the rain that poured outside.

“Oh, Edward! It’s dreadful!” she whined, her eyes red-rimmed from crying.

“Leave us,” Edward said as he turned his attention quickly to his mother’s maid. The older woman nodded quietly and said nary a word before scampering out the door, closing it behind her. “What on earth is going on here?”

“The butler didn’t tell you?” his mother asked, sniffling as her voice cracked.

“No,” Edward said, shaking his head. “He just told me you were feeling unwell, and it had to do with Andrew.” Again, he thought to himself, trying to keep his irritation hidden from her. His mother was already upset enough, and he didn’t need to add to the stress she was under by speaking poorly of his brother.

“He’s left us,” she replied, anger seeming to bubble up over the sadness she’d felt just moments before.

“I beg your pardon?” Edward asked, his breath nearly taken from his lungs at the lash of her words. Indeed, she must be mistaken, Edward thought to himself. Why would he do something so foolish?

“Andrew,” she spat angrily. “He’s gone! Gone, gone!”

His mother was panicing, and Edward wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

“How could Andrew do this?” Edward’s mother sobbed as she shook the note she held. She looked up from her hands, her eyes meeting Edward’s, and they narrowed slightly. “Did you know he was going to leave like this? Did he say anything odd?” his mother asked.

“No, of course not,” Edward said with a head-head shake, trying to console her. “I am just surprised as you are. I wouldn’t have let him.”

Edward felt bad that the lie so quickly slipped off his tongue, but he thought it was better to tell a beautiful lie than a harsh truth. He wasn’t surprised with his brother’s behavior, not once taking his duties as duke seriously—an unwanted job thrust upon him with their father’s untimely passing. But to run away? That seemed strange, even for Andrew.

Andrew had always been like an untamed steed as a child, fun to be around and entertaining despite their parents’ protests. Often, Andrew had got stuck in trees, ran off into the woods for hours at a time, skipped events to paint—all things leaving his parents to worry. However, like a good brother and son, Edward found himself cleaning up after Andrew and his follies, even as a young boy. Something that made fate’s game to leave the dukedom to Andrew and not himself even more bitter.

Andrew had been the heir. And their father, despite his oldest son’s lack of interest in the position, believed he would do well in his role as duke, thanks to his commanding personality. That’s all he could hope for. Because he had to follow the rules of age, even if Andrew had only been born mere minutes before Edward. He, unlike Andrew, would have been happy to honor the family tradition, even though he wasn’t one to seek out the position to gain authority or attention.

Despite evidence to the contrary, their mother also appeared to think neither of her boys could do any wrong, which made it even harder to reprimand Andrew. She only ever saw them both as two cherubs, and Edward wasn’t sure if it was willful ignorance or her constant mourning of their father that caused her to be that way.

She had been much different when their father had been alive. But after his passing, she’d been left a husk of her former self. As she ranted and raved about Andrew, it was the most emotion that she’d shown that wasn’t sadness over their dear old father for years.

“What will happen to us? Did he even stop to think of that? Paris to be an artist?! Ridiculous!” Edward’s mother said as she raised her hands. “I don’t know how I’ll survive the embarrassment!”

Edward’s mother had stood now and paced the floor, and he sighed as he watched her, hating to see her that way. It had to be hard being in denial of his behaviors for so long, then to be blindsided with him running away from the dukedom…it had to be quite the shock for her.

“Let me see that if you don’t mind?” Edward asked. His mother thrust the letter forward, her hands shaking as he took the piece of paper, and he began to read:

Dear Mother,

I know this may come as quite a surprise to you, but I cannot do this anymore. Becoming a duke has beautiful perks, but it was never the life I was truly meant to live. With power and money comes great responsibility, which I no longer want a part of.

I am leaving for Paris. By the time you receive this, I will be on my way. I’m sorry you must find all of this out in a letter, but I am not good with goodbyes. I want to become the artist I was meant to be, and I do not think I can do it while abiding by my duties as Duke. Hopefully, you’ll understand.

I love you all.

Edward eyed the message carefully a few times, and although his brother had had an affinity for art, it still didn’t make sense. Even though he hated being a duke, Andrew had become fairly comfortable and lavished in the luxuries he afforded. So, taking off and abandoning the loose lifestyle he’d been able to maintain due to his status seemed suspicious.

Plenty of people in the ton wrote books, created art, composed the music, and the like—and not one of them just abandoned their position to go to France. No. There is something else going on here…I can’t quite think of what it might be… He needed a plan to save the family from his brother’s latest drama, but then the oddest thought occurred to him.

“Well, the way I see it, we have a few options. None of which will save the family name completely, I can imagine, unless….”

“Unless what?” his mother asked, confused, her brows furrowing.

“You need to stop calling me Edward,” Edward replied, only to bewilder his mother further.

“What are you saying?” she asked.

“It would look better if it were me, Edward, who left. Not the Duke of Richmond, a role that apparently, he’s thrown away on a whim…” It wouldn’t be the first time to take the responsibility for a choice Andrew made. He always helped his brother and he did the same, in ways much different to Edward’s.

“I don’t know…that sounds so farfetched…” his mother said quietly, shaking her head. “It’s very…convoluted.”

“Is it?” Edward asked. “We are identical, a rarity. No one will be able to tell that I’m not Andrew. So, we will press on, and no one will be wiser. I was taught how to do everything by father as well. No one has ever truly cared I exist as the second son, mother, so I doubt anyone will question it.”

“So, you think you can just take his place?” his mother asked. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“I know everything he knows,” Edward replied. “I have been taught how to run the land by father too.”

“I know, but—”

“—Mother, we need to think about saving the family name, our position in the ton, our money—”

“–All we have to do is stall for time, Edward,” his mother said. “It’s not unheard of for a duke to go on a business trip.”

“Well, from the sounds of it, he isn’t coming back,” Edward said quietly. His words appeared to sting his mother, who began sobbing so hard her shoulders shook.

“He wouldn’t do that, Edward,” she said, shaking her head.

“Just like he wouldn’t drink and make a fool of himself in public?” Edward asked, and his mother got quiet again.

“That’s just him enjoying his youth. He’ll calm down one day,” Edward’s mother insisted, beginning to walk away. Edward knew she wouldn’t want to hear it, but he had to get through to her somehow. Their very livelihood and positions depended on it.

“And what of the ladies of the night and philandering?” Edward asked.

“I—”

“—He’s gambled a lot of our money away as well; did you know that?”

“Well—”

“—Andrew is most likely in trouble,” Edward said as he heaved a heavy sigh. He wasn’t quite sure if that was the case or not, but it seemed to be the most likely causation for the debacle before them.

“And while he is sorting himself out, something must be done to save the family name and the dukedom.”

Edward’s mother sniffled, nodding in agreement as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it daintily from betwixt his fingers and dabbed her eyes with it, folding it as she did so, all the while shaking her head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” Edward’s mother said. “You never want to believe that your son is falling from grace. No mother wants to believe that about any of their children….”

“I’m sure he will come back around in time,” Edward sighed, putting a hand on his mother’s shoulder and gently squeezing. Though in his mind, he didn’t truly think it to be true. In fact, he wasn’t sure that Andrew would return at all, given the way he’d written that letter. “But right now, we need to come up with a plan. And the plan that seems the easiest at the moment is just for me to take over.”

“Well, we can’t tell them you took off to be an artist,” his mother said.

“No,” Edward said. “But as you said, it wouldn’t be unusual for me to be off on business for Andrew, maybe…something he was too busy to attend to himself. Somewhere far off…maybe India. Besides, no one will ask questions. Andrew is the main attraction; I am just the other son.”

“Don’t say that,” his mother insisted exasperatedly. Seeming surprised that Edward would even suggest such a thing. “You are much more than just some other person—”

“—but in the eyes of the public, it’s true, mother. No matter how much you love me, no matter how much you support me, I am just the duke’s brother.”

“So, how do you propose we do all this?” his mother asked after a pause. “You may look the same but in personality….”

“You don’t think I can act like Andrew?” Edward asked, chuckling at the notion. “Think of it like I am playing a part in a play, right? I have known Andrew my whole life; we shared your womb at the same time… I think I can handle acting like him.”

“Can we at least tone down on the nefarious deeds?” his mother sighed. “That way, he has a fresh slate to work with when he comes back.”

“Of course,” Edward said with a smile. “I have no desire to continue on the way he was. That’s not the kind of life I wish to lead, even if it’s just playing a role.”

“I’m still unsure about all this,” his mother replied, looking at the floor. “It seems so wrong to lie to everyone.”

“Would you rather the alternative? Would it be better for people to know what’s come to pass here? His actions tarnishing the family name further? I don’t think you want that any more than I do.”

“O-of course not,” his mother stammered.

“I can do this,” Edward replied. “So please, just let me help you and Andrew.”

Edward’s mother looked up with him, tears welling as she nodded quietly. “You’re right. We have to use any tools at our disposal.”

“And when he comes back, we can all sit down and discuss things,” Edward said with a grin. “Fear not, mother, all of this will be resolved in due time.”

“Okay,” Edward’s mother said, a beam breaking through the tears.

“You should get some rest, mother. You look like you haven’t slept.” Edward requested.

“Thank you, Edward,” his mother said as she hugged him tightly.

“No,” Edward said as he shook his head, wandering over to the window as the thunder rolled in the distance. “It’s Andrew now.”

If you liked the preview, you can get the whole book here