London Fairy Tales Book 4
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Rachel Van Dyken
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PROLOGUE
Ash couldn’t bear to remember her like this. Her face, usually lit up with a radiant smile, was now cold and lifeless.
The first time he’d seen her, he’d thought she was an angel. He’d even whispered it to himself when she’d made her grand entrance that season…
“Beautiful,” he’d murmured as Lucy made her way around the room, meeting all the eligible gentlemen who crossed her path.
Taking a deep, nerve-wracking breath—the kind every man takes before approaching a beautiful woman—he’d started to walk towards her.
The music had become a distant hum with each step he took. All Ash could hear was the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he moved closer to the captivating woman.
One dance… if she would just grant him one dance, he’d make her his forever. He felt it deep within his heart, his soul. She was meant to be his.
His heart pounding in his chest, he could hardly contain his excitement as she looked up and their eyes met. Her blue eyes sparkled in his direction, and then she raised her hand in a wave. A wave?
Something was off. Ash paused, glancing over his shoulder self-consciously. There was no one else there. He looked back at her. She was beckoning him forward with a crooked finger.
Completely entranced, he couldn’t resist her any more than he could stop breathing. Finally, he stood before her, towering over her by at least a foot.
“Where have you been, you rogue?” She playfully swatted his arm and laughed coyly. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“For me?” Ash asked, taken aback. “Are you sure we’ve met before?”
“Must you always joke at such serious times?” She laughed again, her dimples dancing on her cheeks. Carefree.
She seemed so carefree, so perfect, untouched by the burdens of the world, by responsibility and darkness, by disappointment.
He tilted his head, reaching out to touch her—maybe she was just a dream. Then a voice broke through the pounding in his ears.
“Ah, sweetheart, you’ve met my brother.” Hunter stepped beside the girl and wrapped his arm around her.
Ash stepped back, his heart sinking. She hadn’t been looking for him at all, but his older brother, his twin, the duke. It was a cruel joke, a sad existence.
Would he ever come first in anything?
Months turned into a year as he watched his brother and Lucy fall so deeply in love that all he could do was be happy for them and try to spend as much time away as possible.
After all, it wasn’t right to want your brother’s wife, to want to care for her and protect her.
Fate had played its final, cruel trick on Ash, allowing him to feel something for someone only to have that person taken away by his brother.
Even though he loved his brother more than his own life, it seemed Ash was always left with nothing while his brother had everything.
His name was fitting.
He was the ash left behind after the fire of Hunter’s life had burned out.
He was nothing but soot, darkness, and dust. One day, his ashes would be carried away by the wind, forgotten and unmourned.
“Ash! Do you hear me? I love you! I love you!” Hunter shouted at his brother, shaking his shoulders, his eyes wide with desperation as he slapped him across the face.
Ash stared at the blood staining his hands. He tried to wipe it off, but it just kept dripping down his wrists onto his jacket.
“I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating, but it didn’t matter.
The carriage had come too fast. Lucy had mistaken Ash for Hunter and had run straight into the street.
The fault was his.
He knew it, Hunter knew it, and Lucy, beautiful Lucy, his brother’s innocent wife, was dead because he’d lied about who he was, tried to be more than just the second son.
He backed away, slowly at first, and then he ran.
His feet ached, his stomach churned, and finally he stopped in the middle of the street, hoping, praying that someone or something would hit him.
Death seemed like his only option, his only choice. How could he live with himself after what he’d done?
Hunter had loved Lucy, but so had Ash.
She was his everything, his only family besides Hunter, and even though he’d wanted her for himself, he’d buried those feelings so deep in his heart that he hadn’t realized how deep his love ran until now, until it was too late.
With heavy legs, he walked until he reached his parents’ tombstone. They’d been taken from him too soon. What would they think of him now?
He was the disappointment in the family, the second son by mere minutes. And now he was a murderer.
Disgusted with himself, he sat down on the cold grass, leaned his head against the stone, and cursed.
His brother—his only living relative—and he’d ruined his life and tarnished his parents’ memory in the process.
All he’d ever wanted as a boy was to make his father proud, but all he’d ever received was disapproval. Just once, he wanted to make someone proud, make himself proud.
But it was impossible.
He looked down at his bloodstained hands.
His future stared right back at him.
Flee! He needed to flee, to escape. No, not just escape. He needed to die. A life for a life. So he set about doing exactly that.
It wasn’t fair that he was able to live, to survive, when the one woman who had brought nothing but joy to everyone she met lay dead in the street.
“Lucy,” he whispered as tears streamed down his cheeks and onto his lips. “I’m so sorry… but I’ll see you soon. I’ll see you soon.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol.
With trembling hands, he lifted it to his chin and pulled the trigger.
