and beheld an image so horribly familiar from a year previous. Portland sat surrounded by bottles and broken glass from where he had let them fall. His darkened eyes tried to focus on Fotherby as he entered but he could tell it was his friend by height alone.

“Why do you not join me?” he said, detaching each word as though he thought he could hide how drunk he was.

“No, thank you. I will go out at first light and bring her back,” Fotherby promised.

“To join the Portland family in its mighty tomb,” came the bitter reply. “There will be more of us there than live in the house now. I wanted you to marry her, you know? I wanted us to be brothers.”

“I know.” Fotherby’s voice became soft as he took the chair next to Portland’s. &ld...

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