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Julian stood in the center of Morland's expansive library, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the forany bookshelves, beyond the high walls and gilded ceiling What he saere ly, indelible memories

He'd nearly forgotten how much he despised this estate

How ed in within these very library walls? How many accusations had been fired between theood?

More than he could count, still more than he chose to remember

Wearily Julian ed his temples, then walked over to pour himself a drink

His father had loathed the very sight of him

That was fact, not supposition Heaven only kne e, his shah, not Julian, who'd been taken from him

The last alone had hurt Not because Julian gave a da the object of his father's hatred, but because any ht with it an acute sense of pain and loss Julian had cared deeply for his kind, gentle older brother, an affection Hugh had reciprocated despite the fact that although separated in age by merely a year, their interests, aspirations—their very natures—had been as different as day and night So far as Julian was concerned, Hugh had been his only fa his first term at Oxford, Julian's roots had died with him

Still, Hugh had been the one thing Julian and his father agreed upon: h's suitability as the heir apparent He would have made a fine duke, fine in a way that Lawrence, with his unprincipled, uncoh's qualities—compassion, decency, fair-mindedness—were the true foundations of nobility

Julian's goblet struck the sideboard with a thud What the hell was he re about? Further, why had he come back—not only to Devonshire, but to Morland?

The ansas laughable

He'd come back to pay his final respects to a rave at the fact that Julian was the last re Bencroft and the sole heir to his precious title A arded Julian as lower than dirt and little better than a Huntley

A Huntley

As a result of last night's disaster, that nae—or rather, an entirely new Huntley An i into his room at Dawlish's as