All the nuances of the social scene wore on Rowles, and with a soft sigh, he turned his attention to Joan.

“Bath is lovely. My family has an estate not far from there as well. You’re more than welcome to visit, with Morgan, of course,” Rowles qualified, giving a curt nod to Morgan.

His friend didn’t return the gesture, and Rowles considered his demeanor. After all, he’d seen Morgan in a fit of temper. He’d seen Morgan broken with the loss of his own brother. And he’d seen Morgan at a loss for how to address a difficult situation. But never had he encountered this full concealment of emotion from his friend, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it meant exactly.

For him.

For Joan.

For their future.

Or, worse yet, for the lack thereof.

Dinner passed with the same sort of tension, and as the final plates were cleared, Morgan waved a hand toward the door. “Care to join me for a snifter of brandy?” He rose from the table and started toward his study without a backward glance.

Rowles gave a bow to Joan, offered the most reassuring look he could, and followed his friend, wondering if the defining moment had finally arrived.

As Rowles stepped into the study, Morgan called to him. “Close the door, if you will?”

The door clicked shut, and Rowles turned to his friend.

Morgan held out a snifter of brandy and took a generous sip of his own. “If Joan will accept you, I will not hinder your marriage. In fact, I’ll give you my blessing, but…” He took a deep breath and regarded Rowles with a piercing look. “There are a few things you should know. I will tell you one, and Joan will have to tell you the others.”

Rowles nodded, his heart racing with the revelation that his suit was accepted. Relief washed over him, only to give rise to new tension. Joan would accept him, wouldn’t she?

“Take a seat.” Morgan sat as well, waiting for Rowles to settle. He drew a deep breath, paused, then took a long swallow of brandy. He inhaled another slow breath and then leaned forward.

Rowles’s shoulders tightened with tension at his friend’s actions. What secrets could he be harboring? Certainly nothing that would change the way Rowles felt about Joan. Yet the tension remained.

“Joan is my sister in every way…save blood,” Morgan confessed softly, as if the walls had ears and were waiting for the secret as well.

Rowles blinked, frowned, and then tipped his chin. “But—”