*Stephan*
My footsteps echo and the fog swirls around us, as if trying to avoid our path. I imagine how we must appear to anyone watching from their windows: three men, with me in the center and my brothers flanking me a step behind, our walking sticks striking the ground in perfect unison. We pass through the gateway, the wrought iron gate left ajar by our uncle in his hurried departure. I wonder what kind of reception we will receive from the servants.
I hadn't recognized anyone at the ball the previous night. If my uncle replaced everyone, I might have to do the same. I can't afford to have any questionable loyalties around me.
Together, my brothers and I march up the driveway and climb the steps. Just as we reach the top, the massive oak door swings open and the butler appears. His
