“What?” Joan feigned innocence.
“It’s far simpler here,” Morgan said as he turned back toward the window. “This is where it all started, you know.”
“What started?” Catherine asked, watching the scenery as well.
“The brotherhood.” Morgan smiled. “It’s not as impressive as it sounds, but it’s been a lifeline for us with all that happened, you know.” He shrugged, but his words were heavy, even for their soft tone.
“The fire.” Catherine’s heart pinched at the mention of the event that had changed all their lives.
“Before, it was all so…planned out? We were friends at school, and that friendship turned into a brotherhood.”
“How?” Catherine had never actually heard the story, simply knew the three friends were close.
Morgan relaxed into the squabs. “It began when Rowles’s mother started to get ill. His father had died the year before, and he was very protective of his mother. There was some cause for alarm at how she was acting, and then one day Rowles received a missive from London and left immediately for home. We didn’t find out till he returned that his mother had, er, walked around London in her nightdress.”
“In daylight?” Catherine asked, her tone shocked.
“Yes. There had been whispers of her staying out of society and acting oddly, but when she made such a public spectacle, news of course spread like wildfire. We were attending Cambridge school at the time, all of us at various colleges. We were meeting after schooling for a pint of beer when some other students arrived at the pub and started to taunt Rowles.”
Catherine listened intently.
“Well, Rowles was fully aware of what had happened. He’d just returned from London that day after situating his mother with a nurse to care for her. Let us just say he was low on sleep and patience.”
“I can’t blame him,” Joan said.
Morgan continued, “Quin tried to defuse the situation. He stood and asked the gentlemen to stop and take their business elsewhere.”
Catherine smiled. That was so like Quin. Taking control, protecting, and the first to step up when the situation required. It was one of the many aspects of his character she loved.
“Did they leave?” Joan asked. “I haven’t heard the full story either,” she confided to Catherine.
“No. They got louder, and so I stepped in, but before I could—”
“Shed blood?” his sister asked knowingly.
He gave her a placating expression. “I only shed blood if necessary.” He turned to Catherine to continue the story. “Rowles stood up and started a brawl that got us kicked out of the pub for good.” He let out a low whistle. “Let’s just say we all were nursing black eyes and sore fists for the next few days.” He appeared as if the memory was a good rather than painful one.
“Only men would find joy in fisticuffs.” Joan nudged her brother playfully with her elbow.
Morgan winked at his sister and then continued. “We knew it wouldn’t be the last time something like that would happen, and that evening as we were all seeing out of one good eye, we made a pact.” He hitched a shoulder. “I don’t think we put much weight into it. There was no contract in blood or even a charter written up.”
“What? No blood? How does this even count, then?” Joan asked with a hint of irony.
“Minx,” her brother taunted lovingly. “But we promised we’d have each other’s backs. We’d been friends for ages, and our brothers were friends as well. Our families had known each other for generations. It only seemed right to continue that association. Little did we know it would be so pivotal a few years later,” Morgan continued. “We all made it through school, then loved Cambridge so much we decided to stay and teach, each in our separate delegations. So of course we all attended different colleges. The school is divided up into disciplines, and each study has its own college,” he explained. “But they are all in Cambridge, dispersed throughout the city, and we lived uneventful, predictable lives as we taught and studied.”
“You sound like it was quite idyllic, yet you work for the War Office?” Catherine asked, curious how that came into play.
“Yes, that’s a whole new story, and I’m afraid we don’t have time for it right now. See? That’s Quin’s residence.” No sooner had he said the words than the carriage rolled to a stop before a stone building a city block long. Stoops all led to similar doors, dividing up the building into different residences.
“Ah, I see.” Catherine waited as the door opened.
Morgan stepped out first, Joan followed, and Catherine disembarked last, taking in the sight of Quin’s home, the place where he felt most at peace. She promised in her heart that the next time she saw it, it would be with him, and she’d watch the peace spread over his face as he came back to the place that he called home above all other places.
Morgan took the steps quickly and knocked on the door. A butler answered promptly, his expression bright with recognition as he welcomed them inside.
Catherine let out a small sigh.
It had been a wonderfully distracting carriage ride.