"Just passing by, so I thought I'd spend the night at Dornleigh." Dom poured himself a glass of brandy and settled into the other wing chair.

"Dornleigh is not on the way from Shropshire to anywhere you could possibly want to go."

"So I lied," Dominic said peaceably.

A footman arrived with a tray of food. Dom directed him to set it on a side table, then asked for a fire to be built. Kyle waited until the footman had complied and left before saying dryly, "Go ahead, make yourself at home."

"Well, it was my home for many years, and if any of the servants balk at obeying my orders, I can always pretend to be you. You need to add another stone of weight, though. It's too easy to tell us apart at the moment." Dominic stretched his feet toward the hearth. "You should also allow yourself more luxuries like fires-it's a cold night."

"Not after several brandies."

"Ah." Dominic set aside his glass in favor of ale and a sandwich made from crusty bread and thick slabs of ham. "What's wrong, Kyle? I've felt as if I've been kicked in the stomach since yesterday morning. I haven't been, so it must be you."

Kyle sighed. "How do you always know when things aren't going well?"

"You do it, too. Besides being twins, I think we both inherited a touch of Highland second sight from Mother. Remember that bad fall I had when hunting in the Shires? You knew immediately, and were at my bedside bullying me within two days."

Kyle remembered that time vividly, along with the almost unbearable fear he'd felt when his brother fought at Waterloo, and the days after when Dominic had been missing in action. Such awareness was the dark side of the twin bond they shared.

All levity gone, Dominic said, "I knew that something horrible had happened to you in China. I… I couldn't believe you were dead, yet thought I must be deluding myself because the horror didn't pass. Though it ebbed some after you were released from prison, it's never really gone away. For a long time I wondered if your soul was in purgatory." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It feels as if you still are."

His last sentence hung in the air as an oblique question.

No point in delaying the inevitable. "Troth left this morning for Scotland."

"For how long?"

"She won't be back. Ever."

Dominic gave him a slanting glance. "Hence the decanter of brandy."

"We never intended a real marriage, so we told people here that we'd performed a nominal handfast as a way of helping Troth leave China. With the year and a day mostly over, naturally she's gone."

Not fooled, Dominic said, "For someone who didn't want to be married, you're absorbing quite a lot of brandy in the absence of your nonwife."

Kyle closed his eyes, temples throbbing. "I'm… very fond of Troth. I'll miss her."

"So she was the one who wanted to end it? Odd. I had the impression that she was more than a little fond of you."

"Fondness isn't marriage."

Sandwich gone, Dominic returned to his brandy. "Are you going to make me pull this out of you one word at a time, Kyle? I will if necessary, but it will be easier for both of us if you just tell me what the devil went wrong."

Kyle stared at the licking flames, appreciating the warmth. He hadn't known he was cold until Dominic arrived. "It was… difficult for both Troth and me. As she said, we're more than old lovers, but less than true mates. I didn't like seeing her go, but it was the only fair thing to do. She has spent most of her life feeling like an outsider. She deserves to find a man who can put her in the middle of his world forever."

"And you can't?"

"I loved that way once. I'm not capable of doing it again."

"Let me see if I understand this properly. You're saying that you don't and can't love Troth, so even though losing her is tearing you up, that isn't love? "

"Not the way I loved Constancia." Kyle closed his eyes, remembering. "I never told even you this, but I married Constancia just before she died in Spain. Part of me died with her. I can never love anyone as I loved her."

Instead of showing decent sympathy, Dominic said, "Of course you can't. Your feelings for her were unique, rooted in whatever qualities made her special to you. More than that, Constancia was your first love, and a great love. But losing her doesn't mean you can't love another woman in a different but equally powerful way."

"I've never had your roving eye or resilient heart," Kyle said dryly.

"Until I met Meriel, I'd never been more than a little bit in love, though that was enough to teach me that each time and each woman is different. Thank God I've never lost a great love. If something happened to Meriel…" A shadow passed over Dominic's face. "Let's not talk about that. What I wanted to say is that love is not a finite substance that is used up and never replenished. The way you loved Constancia proves you have a tremendous capacity for loving. Isn't it possible that you already love Troth at least a little, and you might come to love her more with time?"

Kyle opened his mouth to deny it, then stopped. "How do you define love?"

"You don't believe in easy questions, do you?" Dominic absently flicked droplets of brandy into the fire, where they burst into blue flame. "Passion is the seed of romantic love, and it has flowered with the years in ways I could never have imagined when Meriel and I first married. But there is so much more. Friendship. Talking and trusting. The itchy feeling I get when I haven't seen her for a while. A tenderness that makes my heart glow just thinking about her." Another flurry of brandy flares. "The fact that I would give my life to save hers as instinctively as I breathe."

Kyle considered the list. Passion? He and Troth certainly shared that. Friendship and conversation, too. God knew he was itchy in her absence, and she'd always inspired protective tenderness. Nor would he hesitate to sacrifice himself for her, but that was a given, since she would have done the same for him. She'd risked her life to visit him in prison and would have tried to help him escape even knowing the attempt was doomed. Yet none of those qualities matched the depth of the closeness he'd had with Constancia. "Isn't love more than the sum of those parts?"

"Yes. But I don't have words to describe that," Dominic said slowly. "Except to say that Meriel is my heart. Yet oddly enough, when Philip was born, I found there was plenty of room in my heart for him, and for Gwynne in her turn. If we have another child, there will be more than enough love waiting."

"You're better at loving than I."

"We're not that different, Kyle. It's harder for you to let yourself feel, I think-you had to protect yourself more when we were growing up. But you have just as much to give-and just as strong a need to receive." Dominic frowned at the fire. "Would Constancia have wanted you to mourn her forever? "

"Of course not-she was the most generous of women, and her last words to me were that I should go forth and live. But knowing she would approve doesn't mean that my heart is capable of obeying."

"You and Constancia were together for many years. When you first met, did you feel as if you'd never love again if you lost her? "

"I… I don't know." Kyle frowned. "I've never thought about that. I suppose not."

Dominic said nothing, letting his point speak for itself. Kyle tried to compare how he felt about Troth with what he'd felt for Constancia in the first year or two of their liaison, but it was impossible. When he thought of Constancia, ten years of shared experiences were woven together into the profound love he'd felt for her at the end.

Besides, according to Dom he probably shouldn't try to compare his feelings for the two women. "You're saying it's too early to decide that I can never love Troth as much as I loved Constancia. But even if that's true, it doesn't take into account Troth's wishes. She was the one who decided it was time for her to leave."