I had a million things to do, but I sat in Manly's office with the door closed, staring at that letter as if time didn't matter and everything could wait. In a touch of humor, it was sealed with wax pressed with Manly's ducal seal ring. He wore that ring all the time. I wondered whether the ring would be Ren's now. I doubted Ren would ever use it. Wax seals were antiquated even for someone from Manly's generation.

I finally worked up the nerve and broke the seal. My fingers shook as I pulled the fine stationery from the envelope and laid it flat on Manly's desk. I swallowed hard and read through my tears. Manly's handwriting was old-fashioned and hard to read at the best of times. With tears blurring my vision, it was hard going. I made my way through it slowly.

My dearest Bliss,

If you're reading this letter, I'm dead. Some way to start a letter, isn't it, my darling? Not only am I dead, but I've died before having the great joy of taking you as my bride. If things have worked out the way I intended, you're married to Ren now, by my design. Don't hate me for forcing him on you. I have my reasons, many of which you can guess.

Ren inherits my title. There was nothing I could do about that. The estate, however, is mine to with as I wish. Or one would think. But obligation, bloody obligation, blinds and binds me. Manly Manor has been in the family and passed down with the title for hundreds of years. Who am I to break the chain? As much as my heart would like to leave it to you alone, knowing how much you love it like I do, my head and sense of duty won't allow me to let it pass out of the family. Had we had time to have an heir…

Under the difficult and disappointing circumstances, marrying you to Ren was the best solution I could come up with. Hardly, Axe, and I brainstormed courses of action for months. Sadly, nothing better, or even vaguely equal, presented itself.

This being the case, I feel obligated to explain myself. First of all, giving you to Ren was the hardest decision of my life. Of all the women I've loved, you are my heart. The thought of you with my nephew fills me with almost uncontrollable jealousy. And yet I'm convinced it's the right thing for both of you.

You're probably wondering how I could coerce you into marrying a man whom I've told you is unsuitable to be my heir and take over the estate? How could I leave instructions that marrying Ren is my dearest last request? The answer to that is complicated and begins with Ren and a history lesson, if you will.

Ren, for all his current faults, reminds me of myself as a young man. Which, as you might imagine, is a pleasure to me. The young me was a sight to behold, a charmer of women, the catch of a kingdom, if you will. If you have affection for me, as an old man, you should, I hope, eventually find Ren irresistible. If you give him a chance. And I hope you will. So you see, my darling Bliss, I'm looking out for you even from beyond the grave. Playing matchmaker, much as it grieves me. I can be selfless at times, when necessity demands. Now that you know my motivation, I hope you understand that nothing short of my deep love for you has motivated me.

As regards the needs of the estate—as a boy and teenager, Ren was a handful. A little hellion with a sharp mind of his own and a strong sense of what he wanted. Despite that, he was a charming little fellow, highly intelligent, with a mouth that got him in trouble more often than not. He loved this place and ran wild on it when he visited, which was often.

I looked forward to seeing him. I loved him. He was a bright riot of fun and trouble. His older brother Will was a pale imitation. A bland boy without imagination or wit. You may not believe me, but Ren was by far my favorite. When Will was still alive, I secretly wished Ren were my heir instead. That's a damning deathbed confession. But true. Ren has the creativity and determination to make a go of anything he tries.

Sadly, I made a miscalculation. After Will's tragic death with his fiancée Zoe, Ren changed. To my great regret, he hasn't been the same since. His love for the estate has been tainted and subverted by the circumstances surrounding Will's death. Circumstances, I might add, known specifically only to Ren.

It's not, perhaps, fair of me to put this burden on you, but I challenge you to help Ren find his love of Manly Manor again. Here again, I'll give you all the help I can by giving you all the unbiased information I have. Unfortunately, the only person still alive who knows what really happened the night Will and Zoe died is Ren. And he hasn't chosen to share them with me or anybody. Not even his mother.

I hope you love a mystery and a puzzle, darling. I believe you do. You're a brilliant young woman, which gives me hope that you'll be more effective in discovering the truth than I was. I've spent the last part of my life trying to puzzle out what really happened that night. Here are the basics of the story as I know them.

Zoe, Lady Zoe Rees, was an heiress, the daughter of an earl from an old and respected family. Ren had what I believe Americans call a crush on her for years, followed by a brief relationship. But Zoe always had her eye on Will. Her family was title-hungry, I believe, and wanted their daughter to be a duchess. Whether she used Ren to get to Will or whether she eventually just preferred Will, I don't know. Ren was apparently heartbroken for a time. But she ended up engaged to Will before long. A month before the wedding, which was to be at the castle, Zoe moved into Manly Manor, much as you did.

Ren, Will, and Zoe all seemed to get along well enough. They spent an inordinate amount of time ghost-hunting as a lark, preferring the white lady's room. If Ren was jealous of his brother, he hid it well. On the night of Will and Zoe's deaths, the three spent the evening together and later went to the white lady's room until the early morning hours. Ostensibly, they were ghost-hunting. In reality, they were drinking and, I suspect, more. At some point, Will passed out. Worried when they couldn't rouse Will, Ren and Zoe loaded him into Zoe's car and raced him to hospital. Unfortunately, as you know, they never made it. Zoe failed to negotiate a curve by the river. The car plunged into the dark water. Ren was the only one who made it out.

Witnesses who later reported seeing Ren surface say he never dove back in to try and help Will and Zoe. And, more condemningly, that he sat on the bank for a long time before going for help. As no one saw the car go into the water, everyone who saw him on the bank assumed Ren had gone for a nighttime dip and that nothing was amiss. Finally, Ren roused himself and flagged down a passing motorist who called for help. By then, it was too late.

There's more to the story, Bliss. I leave it to you to find out. I find I don't have the strength to tell you. Maybe it's not important. Maybe you need never know. Only Ren can say.

Divers recovered Will and Zoe the next day, still in the car. Ren has lived with the consequences of the accident ever since. He left the castle and never came back. He finished at university and moved to London, where he's done well for himself as a successful architect. I've seen him infrequently since that night and only in London or away from the estate. Much to my great sadness, our relationship since then has been polite, but strained.

As his uncle who loved him, I can't reconcile his current behavior with the vivacious young man I knew. Maybe his character isn't as strong as I believed. He was more greatly affected by Will's death than I could imagine. For the record, I don't believe Ren let his brother die either out of jealousy or to selfishly inherit Manly Manor. But that's the cloud he's lived under. Free him, Bliss. Find the man I know is still there in him. This, I believe, is that best thing you can do for me to preserve my legacy.

There's a file that contains everything I have on the accident in the third drawer of my file cabinet in my office—news clippings, photos, my recollections.

Good luck to you, my Bliss. I wish I were there with you. I wish you were my duchess and I was in my prime and none of this digging up the past were necessary. I would have made you such a dashing duke. I would have loved you to distraction and given you the world.

All my love forever,

Your Manly

I stared at the letter for a long time before carefully folding it and returning it to its envelope, feeling the echoes of the horror of that night and sadness for Manly and me. So much promise between us that could never have been.

I blinked back tears. Had he really loved me that much? I couldn't help but feel guilty for not returning his love in that way. If I were philosophical, I'd say it was easier for Manly to remember being young and placing the young him with me than it was for me to imagine him young. I made him feel young. I had to think that added to my attraction. And that maybe he was always most in love with the duchess of the moment. At least, that was how I reconciled my guilt.

My mind wandered, of course it did, back to Ren and this new puzzle. At least I knew now what Ren's ghosts were and who. My mind wouldn't leave that riverbank and the image I formed of a young Ren sitting on it while two people drowned. It was easy to see why people convicted him of the crime. He had so much to gain. On the other hand, it appeared he'd lost more.

I made a dozen excuses for Ren's behavior—he was drunk and high. Disoriented. Exhausted. Too tired to go back in the water. But did any of that explain sitting on the bank while his brother and his brother's fiancée drowned? Not even trying to get help until it was clearly too late?

I felt a sudden welling of nausea and put a hand on my stomach. What have you gotten me into, Manly?

I had to force myself to get out of the chair and find Manly's file. It was exactly where he said it would be, thick with yellowed news clippings, photos, and notes. I glanced at my watch. As curious as I was, there was no time to read through it now. I had Manly's death to deal with. But morbid curiosity got the best of me. I opened it, intending to take the briefest of looks, just a skim. On top was a picture of Zoe, a smiling, blond, aristocratic beauty.

I immediately regretted my curiosity. Zoe was stunning, young, and vital. The image imprinted in my mind became that much more grotesque with a beautiful face put to the tragedy.

This was the woman Ren had supposedly loved? Was she the one who'd ruined him? Had he let his brother die because of her? If he couldn't have her, neither could his brother? Was there a wicked, dark streak in him that jealousy fueled?

I snapped the file closed and tucked it under my arm, glad for the moment that Ren wasn't able to see my horror and distrust. Whatever Ren had or had not done, I would have to keep an open mind if I were to do as Manly asked. I'd have to be a dispassionate observer and not let my passionate attraction to him color my observations. I feared it was already too late. Manly was already right in at least one regard—I found Ren irresistible. Physically, anyway. I took a deep breath and repeated the mantra I used to calm myself. I would deal with this later.

I asked Harris to meet me in Manly's room. The funeral home had called asking me to send the clothes Manly wanted to be buried in. With Manly's detailed instructions in hand, I met Harris.

I had never been in Manly's room. It was his private domain and the real testament to his age. The nightstand was covered with bottles of medications. The bed was a hospital-type bed where the head and foot could be raised or lowered. A humidifier sat on a dresser. A cane leaned against the wall. All the smoke and mirrors that allowed him to appear twenty years younger were here. It was the place where he could relax and be the old man he was without fear of judgment. Or turning me completely off.

I hesitated in the doorway.

"Duchess?"

"Sorry." I forced myself in and took a look around. The room was a pleasant size and had an excellent view out the window. The furnishings were modern by castle standards, plain and utilitarian. None of the glamour or romance of the other rooms. The nightstand drew me. I picked up a random bottle and read the label. Digoxin, used to treat congestive heart failure and strengthen the heart. I knew that much. The bottle was nearly empty. Oh, Manly.

"I had no idea Manly was on so many medications," I said.

"He wouldn't have told you, duchess. He didn't want you thinking he was frail."

I smiled softly. "No." I looked around again. "He never let me in here. Now I see why." I took a deep breath. "You'll have the cleaning staff dispose of all the prescriptions?"

"Yes, duchess."

"Harris?"

He looked at me.

"Before we get on with the task at hand, I want to reassure you that you still have a job here as long as you want it. I'm not sure whether the new duke will want a valet, but I need a butler for my new venture. American tourists love Downton Abbey-style living, and that includes a proper butler to greet them when they arrive. But, of course, you're terribly important to the castle. The job will be so much more."

He relaxed, and his face lit up. "Thank you, duchess."

I chewed my lip. I wasn't used to doing this kind of thing. "And one more thing. Manly greatly appreciated your years of service. He left you a bit of cash as a legacy and a thank you. I'll be meeting with each member of staff individually later. We can go over the details then."

His eyes got misty. "Thank you, duchess. Now, what are we about?"

"I have a list of the items I need to take to the funeral home. The outfit Manly wants to be buried in." I handed the list of items to Harris. He'd be much more familiar with them than I was and know where to find them.

He looked it over quickly. "He didn't want to be buried in his wedding suit, then?"

"No. Apparently not," I said. "Though he might not have had it when he made this request. But I think it was a little too formal for a final resting ensemble. I imagine Manly wanted to look nice, but not be too stiff." I winked at Harris. It was odd how humor after someone just died could be so macabre.

Harris knew right where to find what was needed. He quickly assembled the desired items and packed them for me into a suit bag.

"The rest of Manly's clothes need to be packed up and donated to charity," I said. "I have a list of where he'd like them to go. If you would spearhead that task?"

"Yes, of course."

"Toss out the underwear and socks, of course," I said.

He smiled.

"Toss all toiletries…" I rattled off more tasks and handed him a list of things that needed doing.

"I'll take care of it, your grace."

"Thank you." I paused. "Harris, you were here when Will was killed in the accident, weren't you?"

His face clouded. "I was employed here, yes. I wasn't here specifically that night. I was away on holiday with my family." He looked puzzled by the abrupt change in topic.

"It's just…" I took a deep breath. "Ren, the new duke, I don't really know him. You can appreciate that I'd like to know more about my new husband. There are rumors…"

Harris was suddenly sympathetic. "I wouldn't worry about Mr. Ren harming you, duchess. I believe he's matured into the kind of man who can be counted on now. He was hardly more than a boy when the accident happened."

"Manly believed there was more to the story than Ren ever let on." I studied Harris. "I don't think he wanted to believe Ren left Will intentionally."

"The late duke loved the new duke, that's true. And always saw the best in him."

My curiosity got the better of me. "Where, exactly, did the car go off the road?" I asked. "Do you know?"

"I don't rightly remember," Harris said, but it was a convenient lie. "My advice—don't dwell on the tragedy of the past, duchess. Move forward. The late duke would want you to be happy in the present. He wouldn't have paired you with Mr. Ren if he thought you couldn't be or that Mr. Ren would let you down when you needed him. The late duke looked after those he loved."