Dear Reese,

Forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye in person. I’ve done something reprehensible and am beyond ashamed. I can’t bring myself to transcribe my sins in pen and ink, so I will simply say this: if Miss Violet Darby should seek you out, please tell her that I’m sorry. Provide her whatever assistance she needs. And, above all, be kind to her, because—to my everlasting shame—I was not.

I leave our estate and family name in your capable hands. I wish that our finances were not in such disarray, but I know you will soon right matters. Do not doubt yourself, brother, for the strength of your character has always surpassed mine. You are braver, more resilient, and more compassionate than I have ever been.

I regret I must leave you, but I know that you will lead a long, happy, and meaningful life. That is my wish for you, Reese—that you’ll stop running from your demons. That you’ll find the peace I could not.

Your loving and remorseful brother,

Edmund

Reese’s stomach clenched and his hands trembled as he read the letter again, trying to come to grips with the words Edmund had written. He hadn’t died in a hunting accident.

Jesus, Reese should have known. The details of the day Edmund died had been sketchy at best, but the staff said his brother had ridden out that morning alone. Given that he’d been an experienced hunter and excellent marksman, an accident was highly unlikely.

But maybe Reese hadn’t really wanted to know the truth. He hated to think of how much Edmund must have suffered in his final days—and, moreover, of how much suffering he must have caused Violet. He hated that his brother had been so alone and ashamed and closed-minded that he hadn’t believed there was any way out of his predicament. That he hadn’t felt that he had any choice but to take his own life.

Reese dropped his head in his hands and cried—for Edmund, for Violet, and the babe that his brother would never meet.

Raw sobs racked his body, but for once, he didn’t bother trying to hold them back. He let the pain crash over and flow through him till some of its power diminished and all that was left was sadness.

And an unexpected, newfound sense of purpose.

Because Edmund had been wrong. His brother, for all his intellect, had failed to see the truth of his situation. He hadn’t realized that he did have another choice. That there was always another choice. And Reese knew exactly what he needed to do.

He returned to his bedchamber and rang for Gordon. When the valet appeared in the doorway, Reese gestured to the armchair across from his own. “Will you join me for a moment?”

Gordon frowned, but sat. “Is everything all right, my lord?”