“Were you there when it happened?”

“I was the one who cut him down.”

Stephen was aghast. “What of your brother? Where was he?”

Emily took a breath. “Daniel had gone to play faro. He brought home money that night. It was one of the few times he won.”

Stephen placed an arm around her shoulders. He wanted to grant her support, to let her know that he regretted what had happened. “You should not have had to face such a tragedy alone.”

“I was not alone. Daniel’s wife was with me. But she was pregnant and could not help.” A cynical expression formed. “I should have found a way to stop it from happening.”

“It wasn’t your fault. No one blames you.”

“No, but it is a convenient excuse for the ladies of the ton to keep me out of their drawing rooms. They know that this is what I came from, Stephen.“ She gestured toward the disheveled room. “This is who I am.”

“No. It was a tragedy, not a judgment of your character.”

She didn’t argue, as though it wasn’t worth the effort. He could see the disbelief in her eyes. Silks and fancy gowns would not conquer her vulnerability. He didn’t know if he could change that.

“Let us go into my brother’s study,” she suggested. “There might be some papers that could help you remember the night you were attacked.”

He followed her, stepping over a fallen table and broken glass. When they reached the study, ledgers lay everywhere, the room in shambles. Someone had searched thoroughly for something. Evidence, Stephen was certain. But what?

“He was here before us,” Emily guessed, trying to push a heavy desk upright. “The man who attacked me.”

Stephen assisted her and they picked up the fallen drawers. “I agree. But he may have overlooked something.”

They spent the next hour sorting through the papers and righting furniture. Stephen knew that the family had lost everything, but seeing the reality was much worse than he’d imagined. Only months ago, Emily had lived here with her brother and the children. He didn’t like to think of rats living here, much less his wife and family.

His family. The thought sobered him. He was responsible for their well-being and protection. Although Royce and Victoria were not of his blood, he was growing accustomed to them. And whether or not he retained guardianship, he made a personal vow never to let any of them suffer through this kind of existence again.

Stephen continued searching through the books when he spied a tin horse, just the size of the soldiers belonging to Royce. The horse was small enough to fit inside his palm, the brown paint nearly gone. Stephen tucked the toy inside his waistcoat pocket, planning to return it to Royce later.