Cole was not surprised when the footman opened the doors and stepped aside to allow him entrance. As he reached the grand hallway, the parlor door opened and Benedict stepped out.

Since that day he walked into the Everard estate after they took Agatha Blair from prison, he had not laid eyes on the man that had once been his best friend.

This was the man whom he shared most of his best school years in Adam's with, the man who gave him permission to ask for his sister's hand. They were brothers.

Every second of that night ten years ago flashed before his eyes—him and Benedict, standing in the middle of an open field, Margaret bounding toward them just in time.

Margaret had walked up to him and explained why Benedict failed to come to Leah on time. She told him about the accident in the mines and how they had to bury their father. It was the worst decision he had had to face. In anger, he brushed Margaret aside to pounce on Benedict, planting his fist against his friend's face.

And then he drew his sword. The worst part was that Benedict allowed it.

"I will not kill you, but I could never forgive you either." His own words rang in his ears. "I will not kill you, but I will bloody hell make sure you will forever be reminded of what you have done to my sister and her unborn child."

He gave Benedict his scars and left.

And now he was back to reclaim someone he regretted to have left behind ten years ago—the woman who stopped him from doing what could have been the worst mistake of his life.

Benedict's eyes did not give him any hint of what he might be feeling, nor did his former friend speak.

It was, on the other hand, Maxwell and Nicholas who stormed right past Benedict and straight to Cole, fists at the ready.

Like Benedict many years ago, Cole let the two brothers have their way with him. He received the first blow from Maxwell, the second from Nicholas. He stumbled but did not fight back.

Incongruous, really, to be beaten in front of the man who had once allowed himself be in the same position as he was now, Cole thought as he swallowed hard.

And before the commotion could reach anyone else, the two brothers dragged him into the parlor. He could hardly think. His vision was getting blurry as well, but he felt himself being pulled back up on his feet by strong hands.

Cole received another blow right in his gut and he bent over in pain. A grunt of pain finally escaped him. Another blow to the side of his mouth, another near his eye.

"Stop."

Just one word.

Stop.

And it did.

The blows stopped, the pain didn't. Not for a while.

Cole pulled his head up, blinked away the blurriness. Margaret was not in the room. It was not she who had said the word.

It was Benedict.

"You got what you wanted, brothers," Benedict said, stepping forward. "Now, Margaret can do whatever she wants."

"Bloody hell, Ben!" Nicholas roared, whirling around. "You, of all people should know what is best to do here."

"Yes, quite right," said Benedict, looking at Cole, his face free of the fury his brothers wore.

It was only then that Cole remembered Margaret's words.

You do not have the least knowledge of how my brother suffered all these years. How he blamed himself for Leah's death.

Yes, he could not deny that he had wanted that very thing to happen when he gave Benedict his scars. He had been filled with so much fury. He wanted to make Benedict believe it and suffer for it. And now he was seeing that in the man's eyes—the guilt and the remorse.

"Leave us," Benedict ordered. When his brothers hesitated, Benedict tore his eyes off Cole and repeated, "Leave us."

Maxwell dropped Cole on the floor, saying he did not deserve a chair, and left the room with Nicholas. Before the door closed, Cole thought he heard Margaret's voice asking what was happening. Nicholas' reply was drowned by the locking of the door.

"I had to let them do it," Benedict said.

Cole groaned as he pulled himself up from the ground to lean on his knees, breathing heavily.

"They deserve a moment to be brothers. They will never rest until they had their way with you," Benedict continued as he walked near Cole. He did not offer a seat, but he did hand him a glass of brandy.

Cole stared at the glass for a moment. It was just a drink, but it was something more.

With a pained groan, Cole reached for the glass and gulped down its contents, wincing at the burning effect after.

Benedict was quiet as he watched Cole set the glass on the floor and gather himself.

Finally, Cole held up his head and his eyes met Benedict's emerald green ones.

Memories of their antics in school, of the adventures they shared after they left Adam's—All seemed to flash around the room, hoping to be given another chance.

Things would never be the same between them. Only children who had a petty fight could hope for something that it would. For them whose lives were changed, they would have to settle for what remained.

Respect.

Cole swallowed the remaining taste of the drink. Looking up at Benedict, he reached inside his coat and took out Leah's letters. "Read them and I will answer all your questions. I will not ask that you forgive me, only that you will listen to my story."

Benedict's face remained passive until he opened the first letter and read the name at the bottom. Cole remained on the floor, tired and in pain, holding his breath now and then as Benedict read Leah's letters.

The man's scarred face showed interest, intrigue, and eventually guilt by the time he finished. Then contained anger when his gaze lifted from the last letter and landed back on Cole. His lips were set tightly, and the look of betrayal in his emerald eyes was strong.

Cole let out a shaky breath. "Those letters were intercepted by my father. They never reached me. I found them after his death."

A long silence followed. He watched as Benedict carefully placed the letter on a table and proceeded to pour himself another drink. Cole waited until the glass was empty and Benedict refilled it.

"Why did you not give them to me sooner?" Benedict asked, breaking the silence.

Cole slowly stood, wincing at the pain. He wiped his face with his sleeves and leaned against the closest wall because if he didn't, his body would choose to stay on the ground. Brushing his hair off his face, he proceeded to tell Benedict of his father's crimes. Everything he told Margaret, he told her brother.

When everything was quiet again, Benedict slowly walked up to him, the fury in his scarred face palpable. "I deserved the truth, Cole."

"I know," he said under his breath. "I don't..." He shook his head. "I was thinking only about the case. I should have told you."

"That doesn't free me from the guilt," Benedict said, pointing at the letters. "Those only adds weight to what I had to carry all these years. I could have been there for her, but I wasn't."

"You didn't know. We didn't know."

"And maybe she should have not as well," Benedict growled. "If I only..." With a shaky breath, Benedict turned away, finished his drink. "I lost her, too, Cole. And I lost our child."

A gust of air burst through Cole's lips and the tears followed. His shoulders shook, his lungs gasping for air. Not a word was spoken until Cole's sobs quieted and died, until he had no tears left, his eyes dry again, absently staring at the floor.

He heard Benedict's footsteps return, saw his old friend's feet before his. "She would not have wanted this."

Swallowing hard, Cole nodded. "Nor did she deserve to die." He raised his head and met Benedict's gaze. "No one is to blame but my father and the people he worked with. And perhaps also my mother. I'll deal with her when the time comes."

Benedict stared at him for a few seconds, then nodded. He took the letters back to Cole. "Keep them. You need them more than I do." He watched as Cole returned the letters inside his coat. "Did you expect me to give you my sister's hand by telling me this?" Benedict asked.

Cole scoffed. "No. I gave her my word that I'll tell you. And I meant to tell you."

"So, she knows."

He nodded. "Not everything."

"What do you mean?"

"I also found Leah's journals. There, she wrote what she knew about our father's illegal business." He pushed away from the wall, stumbled a little, then managed to find his balance. "The Trilbys are interested in your mines."

Benedict's brows rose in surprise.

"I'm not certain if they had anything to do with the accident, but Leah claimed in her journal that the Trilbys needed the mines for something else."

"The accident was just as it was. An accident. I know because I was there."

"It is farfetched, I know. But with these people, Benedict, anything is possible."

Benedict's jaw tightened. "You do realize that this is a serious claim."

"I do. Thus I hope to keep it between us. I have much to work on in this case. I believe I barely scratched the surface."

"And you're putting yourself in danger by doing so."

"Yes."

"And despite that, you're still hoping that I'll be the fool to give you my sister's hand and let her marry into the danger looming over you."

Cole's jaw tightened.

"But it will be her choice, not yours, nor mine," Benedict resignedly added, pouring two more glasses of brandy. He handed one to Cole. "Do you remember my warning when you asked for her hand?" Benedict asked.

Cole nodded.

"I told you I will hang you upside down with the tip of a sword pointing at your head if you ever hurt her."

His entire body tightened at the reminder of Margaret's pain. "Yes," he whispered, the broken promise heavy in his chest.

A long silence ensued.

"You can never hurt her again." There was finality in the statement, a warning of a last chance.

Cole nodded.

Benedict's eyes stayed on him for a long time before he nodded and gulped down his drink. He walked to a chair and dragged it to the center of the room. "Before he died, my father reminded me of a promise I made to him when I was younger. Of what I should do for my siblings. And our mother." He went to Cole, grabbed his arm, and guided him to sit down. Looking down at him, Benedict's eyes showed him many things. The hurt, the guilt, the anger. They were all there. But so was the hint of abandoned friendship, of understanding, and respect. "Today, I'm keeping that promise." His old friend walked over to the bellpull. "I will give my sister her freedom to choose," he added before pulling the bell.

The door burst open and Margaret rushed in, face frantic with worry, Maxwell and Nicholas right behind her. "Good God," Margaret said as she carefully cupped Cole's face.

"Well?" Nicholas asked, brows cocked high in question.

Benedict walked to the doorway, hands to his sides. Agatha was waiting for him at the door and he paused to cup her face for a reassuring caress, before he looked over his shoulder at his brothers. "Leave the room, gentlemen."

"Not over our bloody—" Nicholas started but stopped when Benedict stared at him and Maxwell, tilting his head toward the door.

Maxwell started walking but not without saying to Cole, "You do not touch a strand of her hair. Not one."

"Don't step on her shadow," Nicholas added, pointing at the ground.

"Nick. Max," Benedict said at the door as he took his wife's hand in his and walked out.