Page 72 of Once Upon a Midnight Dream

As if Layton had returned from the dead, he had welcomed him exuberantly. In a manner of speaking, Layton had, for he surely would have died had it not been for Lilly and Charles.

Fletcher confessed that after weeks had passed and they had not found Layton, the entire Westbrook family had feared the worst. However, that had not stopped them from hunting down the Earl of Highbury and bringing him and his hirelings to justice.

Layton had been wise to avoid Sheriff Wrottesley.

Though not an accomplice in Layton’s abduction, the sheriff was one of Highbury’s paid lackeys. Without a qualm or hesitation, he would have reported Layton’s location to the earl.

Layton glanced over his shoulder as his brother entered the breakfast room. Stifling a yawn, he shrugged.

“Sleep has not been my friend for many years, Fletch.”

Except while Layton stayed at Kelston Hall.

The eagle owls’ nocturnal hooting and Hodgson Burn’s distant burbling acted as nature’s lullaby, easing him into a deep slumber each night. Roosters crowing, cows lowing, sheep baaing, and the ever-present call of the doves roused him from slumber every morning.

Fletcher slipped onto the chair opposite Layton, then nodded his appreciation when Humphrey approached with a cup of steaming, black coffee. “Thank you, Humphrey.”

“I have already requested breakfast for Captain Westbrook, sir.” The footman adjusted his gold-striped waistcoat. “Should I do the same for you?”

Lifting his cup, Fletcher nodded. “I shall have whatever Cook prepared for my brother. I hope there are croissants. Have a tray sent up for my wife, too, please.”

“Very good, sir.” Humphrey slipped away once more.

Layton was the last of his siblings to find true love. Soon, there would be another Westbrook bride. If he could convince Lilly to marry him.

Inhaling the steam rising from his hot coffee, Fletcher sighed.

“I can never thank you enough for introducing me to Yemen’s Mocha coffee, Layton.”

Mocha coffee was one of many exotic products Layton had brought back from his military travels.

“For a man who has been all over the world,” Fletcher teased, “I still cannot believe you became so turned around that you mistook Prudhoe for Hexham.”

Layton raised an eyebrow. “Did I fail to mention I had a concussion and was barely conscious?”

“Nay.” Remorse creased Fletcher’s face. “I was but jesting.”

“I know.” Layton did not mind his brother’s joking. While he regretted the angst his family had endured when they could not find him, he would never regret getting turned around.

By getting lost, he found himself again.

“What are your plans for today?” Fletcher asked.

“I am paying a call at Hoare’s Bank this morning.” Layton observed his brother’s reaction.

Eyebrows shooting high, Fletcher paused in raising his cup to his mouth. “Oh?”

His casualness did not fool Layton.

He was curious—immensely so—but he did not want to pry.

“I have decided to put our father’s money to good use,” Layton said.

Fletcher chuckled in approval. “Bravo. It is about time.”

After leaving the field of medicine, having found a career as a physician too emotionally taxing, Fletcher used his share of their inheritance to establish several successful businesses.

He rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “Would I be too presumptuous in asking what you intend to do with the funds?”