41

The reports of the marriage of the Duke of Springbrook and his wife. The birth of their first child—a son. The divorce. The Duke remarrying. The birth of his second son who he named heir. The non-existent relationship between the Duke and his first son. And then the tragedy of that second son’s death. Then nothing but silence.

Because you don’t exist. You never did.

Cedric’s hand was cold where it gripped the door handle, his knuckles bone white, and he had to force himself to let it go. He should leave, get out while he had a chance, and yet he didn’t. He turned around instead.

Anna stood next to the bed, that terrible sympathetic expression still on her lovely, vivid face. Concern glittered in those beautiful eyes, as if she cared about how he felt. He didn’t understand why she would. After all, no one else had. And he didn’t understand why she wanted to ask him about his past, either. About his brother. Sullen anger burned inside him, a healing fire.