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The past: Zacary Holden

"Brooks!

"Huh?!" The young man bolted upright. Instead of staring at the fields, the youth scowled at his brother.

"You dreaming up battle strategy..." Zacary pointedly taps on the map set in front of Brooks. The elder brother nods assertively and reaches for a pen. But Zacary wasn't finished.

"Or beautiful and rich ladies much too young for you?"

Brooks sighed and rolled his eyes as Zacary solemnly gazed out at their farmlands. He leans back in his chair and pokes his younger brother. "Women her age are already married to men three times their age."

"So your relationship blossoming would be a good thing?" Zacary queered.

"Of course! I'd be doing her a favor-" Brooks trailed off at Zacary's playful grin. He stands with his hands in surrender. "You caught me. I was dreaming about riding out to Elizabeth's picnic and sweeping her off her feet."

Zacary continued to watch Elizabeth Roslin from about a mile away. Only Brooks's love could tell it was her. The fool brother of his was head-over-heels for a girl who saw him as yet another duke's son. "Careful surrendering around here. We are at war, you know."

Brooks nods sadly. When he lifts his eyes to Zacary's, he is filled to the brim with seriousness. "I have a grave decision. I can stand here and mark a bloody map in the hopes of fighting at father's side against Dacburn or I can ride out and pursue the maiden of my dreams, fresh back from Reretha and more beautiful than ever."

Zacary pretended to weigh the odds out in his hands. "Bloody battlefield in the making or a bloody gorgeous girl. I don't know about you, but methinks only one will be here when you get back."

Brooks smiles and steals a glance out the window at the distant hill. He reaches for his coatjacket when Zacary calls out, "Bring along Fredrick. You'll be needing a chaperone." Brooks winks and backs away.

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Sunshine blared on Zacary's eyes and the second he was conscious his head thumped with pain. He was groggy and grumpy bit he was determined to get those blasted drapes closed. Blindly he inched toward them. A strand of dark hair fell over his eyes and he swat it away. Unfortunately that was the hand he had been leaning on.

Zacary groans ans grips his head as he hits the cold, hard floor. A sudden chill sweeps through his bedclothes and he would be disgusted by the chatter his teeth made.

A cheerful giggle echoes out and Zacary has the strength to see pink skirts with black silk overlaying it.

"Bethie, I thought you were still in mourning." No, 'Beth, why are you in my room' or even a swear word. No, Zacary was concerned over Beth's lack of black clothing. Her clothing said she was half mourning but her sister had disappeared not a month ago and fifteen year old Beth didn't seem gloomy.

Radiating joy, Beth knelt down and said, "You are a very strange man, Sir Holden." Then she bustled about, pulling a suit coat, britches and underthings from his chest. Sleepily and painfully, Zacary sits and watches silently. Finally Beth stops and beckons to him. "Come on, get up and at-um!"

Zacary simply squints at her. "Why?"

"The soldiers are coming home today. Your own brother is to be knighted and given an earldom. Did you have too much to drink at the party last night?"

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