Edmond battled to keep his face impassive. He had vowed never to speak of the raw wound that festered deep in his heart. Not with anyone.
“Perhaps.” He wisely evaded a direct response. “But not today, I fear. I have come to beg your forgiveness.”
“What is it?”
“I must return to England.”
“Has something occurred?”
Edmond carefully considered his words. “I have been concerned for some time, sire,” he confessed. “The letters that I have received from my brother over the past months have mentioned a number of…incidents that make me suspect that someone is attempting to do him harm.”
Alexander abruptly leaned forward. “Explain these incidents.”
“There have been gunshots from the nearby wood that my brother dismissed as poachers, there was a bridge that collapsed just as my brother’s carriage was upon it, and most recently a fire was started late one night in the wing of Meadowland where my brother’s bedchambers are located.” Edmond gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white as he recalled his brother’s latest letter. He intended to kill whoever was stupid enough to threaten his twin brother’s life. Slowly, painfully, and without mercy. “It was only because of an alert servant that there was nothing more than a few scorched walls instead of a tragedy.”
The Emperor did not pretend shock that someone as powerful as the Duke of Huntley might be in danger. The previous Czar had been assassinated, with scandalous rumors that Alexander himself had been involved. Then, of course, there was rarely a month that passed without some threat to the throne.
“It is understandable that you are concerned, but surely your brother has taken steps to ensure his safety?”
Edmond grimaced. Despite the fact there was less than ten minutes between their births, the two brothers could not be more different.
“Stefan is a brilliant Duke,” he said, speaking nothing less than the truth. “He tends his lands with the love of a mother for her child, his business investments have tripled the family’s coffers, and he is devoted to the care of those who depend upon him, whether it is his reckless younger brother or his lowest servant.” A rueful smile touched Edmond’s mouth. As different as they might be, the two brothers were devoted to one another, even more so since their parents’ tragic drowning years earlier. “As a man of the world, however, he is extraordinarily naive, completely trusting of others and utterly incapable of deception.”
Alexander gave a slow nod of his head. “I begin to comprehend.”
“I want more than to keep Stefan safe,” Edmond said in a soft, lethal voice. “I want whoever is responsible in my hands so I can choke the life from him.”
“Do you know who it is?”
Edmond’s body clenched with a fury he could barely contain. Along with his brother’s grudging revelation of the odd incidences that had plagued him, had been a passing reference to the fact that their cousin, Howard Summerville, was visiting his mother who lived only a few miles from the Huntley family seat.
Howard was his eldest cousin and the third heir in line to inherit the dukedom if anything were to happen to Stefan and Edmond. He was also a pathetic whiner who rarely missed an opportunity to inform all of society that his family had been ill-used by the Dukes of Huntley.
Who more likely to wish to do away with Stefan?
“I have my suspicions.”
“I see. Then most certainly it is your duty to protect your brother,” Alexander agreed with a grave nod of his head.
“I realize it is an awkward time to leave, but…” His words were cut short as the Emperor abruptly rose to his feet.
“Edmond, go to your family,” he commanded. “When all is settled, you can return to me.”
Edmond gained his feet and performed a deep bow.
“Thank you, sire.”
“Edmond.”
“Yes?”
“Just make certain you do return,” the Emperor commanded. “The Duke has given his loyalty to England, but your family owes Russia one of their sons.”
Hiding a smile at the thought of what King George IV might have to say at the royal command, Edmond merely inclined his head.
“Of course.”
LEAVING HIS SERVANTS AND carriage to follow behind him, Edmond urged his mount to a steady pace from London to his childhood home in Surrey.
Stefan might be a meticulous correspondent, but he tended to devote far too much attention to his crop rotation and newest farm implements. Edmond knew the precise details of the plantings in the north field and very little of how Stefan truly fared.
Still, for all Edmond’s urgency, he couldn’t halt the overwhelming desire to slow his grueling pace as he entered the familiar wooded landscape surrounding his home.
It was all in perfect order, of course. Everything from the neatly trimmed hedgerows to the recently harvested fields. Even the cottages were brightly whitewashed with fresh thatching on the roofs. Stefan would demand no less than perfection. Which was why he was considered one of the finest landlords in the entire realm.
Edmond was surprised, however, to realize he could vividly recall every curve in the road, every tiny stream that cut through the rolling pastures, and every towering oak that lined the long path to the house. He recalled playing pirates with Stefan on the glittering lake in the distance, having picnics with his adoring parents in the Grotto, even hiding from his tutor in the large conservatory.
His heart clenched with a bittersweet pain that only intensified as he cantered past the ivy-covered tower gate and his gaze fell upon the rambling, stone house that had been the crowning glory of the countryside for two hundred and fifty years.
Perched at the end of a tree-lined drive much of the foundation of the great house was still from the original Norman stonework, a testament to the excellent craftsmanship. There were twelve impressive bays that boasted sash windows and stone balustrades that lined the roof. The previous Duke had added a Portrait Gallery and the woodland gardens had been expanded to include several fountains created for his mother by Russian artists, but the overall image remained one of solid, ageless English beauty.
Behind the main house, the stable block was a handsome structure that maintained much of its rustic beauty with numerous wooden stalls and carved pillars. In the past the stables had housed the local villagers when the plague had swept through the country, providing a sanctuary from the ravaging death. These days, however, the building had been returned to its traditional purpose, housing the extensive collection of Huntley horses that were praised in the Sporting Magazine and sought after by foxhunters all over England.
As a youth, Edmond had loved the scent of the stables, often hiding in the hayloft to avoid the tedious lectures of his tutor or, as he grew older, to enjoy a bit of privacy with a willing maid.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Edmond sternly dismissed the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. He hadn’t returned to England to dredge up the ugly past. Or to waste his time brooding on what might have been.
He was here for Stefan.
Nothing more.
Edmond angled his horse toward the side entrance, hoping to avoid the fanfare that always occurred on the rare occasions he made an appearance at his ancestral seat. Later he would make sure he managed to greet the large staff he considered more family than servants, but for now he wanted to assure himself that Stefan was safe. Then he needed to find a trustworthy ally who could tell him the truth of what had been happening here in Surrey.
He managed to slip through the double French doors and make