“Very well. I will tell you why I ran away, why we are here. I’ll tell you everything. But before I can tell you about myself and my reasons, I must tell you about my brother.”
She frowned but motioned for him to continue.
“Edward,” he started, “was ten years my senior. He was the firstborn and thus destined to be the Duke. He was born for it, not just because he was the eldest. It was far more than that. He had a genuine interest in everyone around him. The servants, the tenants, they all loved him. I was a child then and didn’t understand. It took growing up without him to realize that he was a remarkable man. Kind, compassionate, and loving.”
His gaze drifted away, lost in the memories of a time long gone. He could remember the way the tenants looked at Edward with genuine affection when he came to visit their farms or when they came to the house, looking for assistance. They cared about him as he cared about them. Indeed, he would have been an amazing landowner and duke…
“He sounds like a lovely person. You said he was also fond of the orphanage?”
“Very much so,” Kenneth replied. Talking about Edward felt good, like a balm to his soul. “When Edward was fifteen, and I was just five, he took me to Our Lady of Carmel’s Orphanage for the first time. I remember it was January, just after the twelfth night, and he made me sort through my toys to give away the ones I no longer played with.” He laughed at the memory. “I was so upset because I didn’t understand why I couldn’t keep everything. Well, I understood when we got there.”
“He made you give the toys to the children?” Joanna ventured.
He nodded. “Yes, he did. He brought some of his belongings as well—books, clothing, puzzles. We gave the children everythingwe’d brought, and seeing them so grateful to have an old wooden toy made me understand why he’d brought me there. It was his way of teaching me gratitude.”
A wistful smile played on Kenneth’s lips, the warmth of nostalgia softening the edges of his pain.
“He was the best older brother one could ask for,” he continued. “A guiding light in my life, even though I was too young to truly understand it back then.”
Joanna smiled. “He sounds like Sally. She was always my protector, always looked out for me. She still does, though she is only two years older than I.”
“You’re fortunate to have grown up with her. Sometimes, I feel that my childhood stopped the day Edward died. There’s life before Ed and life after him, you know?”
Joanna nodded, although Kenneth knew she didn’t really know or understand. “I can’t imagine a life without Sally or Rosy. I imagine I might feel as if a part of me is missing,” she said softly.
“That is how I feel. When I was little, I used to hate it when our father would take Edward on trips with him. I missed him so much. My mother used to tell me that Edward would marry one day and move into one of our other properties. I thought it ridiculous, the idea of not seeing him all the time. I thought we’d always be the best of friends. I imagined he’d make me his steward when we grew up.” He laughed at the ridiculous idea his younger self had come up with.
“I pictured the both of us together. Me his loyal helper, he in charge of it all. We would have made this place into something special.” His voice quivered with the rawness of his emotions. “He would have been a wonderful duke.”
Joanna’s blue eyes looked almost black in the dim light of the room, but he saw compassion in them. Then, as if she’d read his thoughts, she moved a little closer to him.
It was time for the worst of it, Kenneth knew.
“I feel as though I am standing before a heavy door, not wanting to push it open,” he murmured when he felt her hand on top of his.
“You need not open it if you do not want to. But if you choose to know, I am beside you.”
Kenneth wanted to add “for now” but knew this wasn’t the time. “I want to. I have to,” he said and wetted his chapped lips. “The night Edward died, we were invited to the late Marquess of Barring’s estate. He was also involved in the orphanage,” he continued.
Joanna nodded. “I saw a plaque with his name on a tree. In the courtyard.”
“Yes, that’s right. He died six years ago as well, and his son donated a large sum to the orphanage. Anyhow, I remember not wanting to go to the dinner because it was always sodreadfully boring, especially for a child. I was always the only one there my age. The worst was always after dinner, when everyone would sit in the drawing room for hours.” He shook his head, remembering how his seven-year-old self had felt at the prospect.
“Edward knew how much I disliked going, and he often tried to help me find a way out of it. But that night, he could not. After dinner, he took pity on me. He told me where I could find extra dessert to lift my spirits. He even told me how to get there, below stairs.” His gaze softened at the memory of his older brother’s thoughtful gesture. “That night, they served a dessert I was especially fond of, and… well…”
He heard Joanna’s sharp intake of breath. “Flummery,” she whispered.
They looked at one another, both remembering the peculiar dinner at Carlisle Manor where Joanna had openly expressed her love for the dessert and Kenneth had had to admit that he hated it.
“Yes, exactly. I used to love flummery back then. These days, I can’t stand it.” His voice grew somber as he delved into the heart of the story. “I went downstairs once the family gathered in the drawing room, seeking that sweet indulgence. I felt brave and scared at the same time, the way children often do. I thought I was quite naughty, but I wanted to tell Edward about my adventure on the ride home…” His voice faltered, and Joanna’s hold on his hand tightened as if to give him strength.
“I went downstairs when I smelled it. A bonfire. Or so I thought. It turned out that it was not a joyous celebratory fire I was smelling but a catastrophic one. It had broken out in the kitchens. Some spilled cooking oil. Later, we found out that one of the maids poured more cooking oil on the flames, thinking it was water.”
“By Jove,” Joanna gasped, aware of what this meant.
Kenneth shuddered involuntarily, his mind replaying the haunting scenes of that tragic night. “I was frozen in place, staring at the disaster unfolding. I would have died if not for one of the servants rescuing me,” he admitted. “He brought me outside, where I found my mother, and then the most agonizing hours of my life followed as my mother and I waited for my father and Edward to come out. But they stayed behind to help fight the fire. I still remember every detail. The flames, the smell, the cries all around me… I remember waking up to my mother’s scream.” Instinctively, he curled his fingers around her hand, holding on as if she might anchor him to this world to stop him from slipping into the depths of despair. “My father had emerged, and in his arms, he was carrying Edward’s lifeless body. He was gone—died from smoke inhalation.”
Joanna gasped, her eyes widening in shock and sympathy. “He died saving others… A true hero,” she said then.
