Chapter 24
Harry stared down at her, wasting precious seconds of his five minutes. Amelia stared back, hoping her face was blank and impassive in the moonlight. She didn’t want to give him the slightest satisfaction of seeing her fear.
Part of her wished that she’d stood up when he approached. That at least would have put them at eye level, or nearly at least.
Her brother looked much as she remembered.
The last time they met was at their father’s funeral.
His hair was a few shades darker than hers, a deep auburn streaked with premature gray at the temples.
Tall and rangy, he looked both too small and too large in his clothes.
The material bunched at his shoulders and around his torso, yet seemed too short for his long limbs.
Since they last met, he had apparently dealt with his too-short breeches by investing in a pair of shiny Hessians.
Amelia let her gaze rake down his frame.
Her modiste’s eye told her that his clothes were expensive but poorly tailored to his figure.
It was as if he wanted to buy expensive things but lacked the foresight or interest to make sure they fit him properly.
“Well?” she prompted. “Say something, Harry. Or should I call you Lord St. Louis? Would you prefer that?”
A muscle jumped in Harry’s jaw. “Don’t be like that, Amelia.”
She gave a bark of incredulous laughter. “You wished me dead, Harry. You wished all of us dead. You threw us out of our home, told us that our mama was likely burning in hell, and refused to lift a finger to help us. You are a monster. Do not play the doting brother now.”
He flinched visibly. “You misunderstand.”
“I don’t think that I do.”
“I… I am here, aren’t I? I was shocked to receive an invitation to your wedding, of course I was. Perhaps it was the reminder I needed. But now, now that you’re going to be married and respectable, why should we not be family? After all, you and the girls are my only family.”
“Family,” she snorted. “You have a great deal of audacity, Brother. We aren’t family. You made that clear enough.”
He rocked back on his heels as if she’d shoved him.
Clearing his throat, he nodded, dropping his chin. “Yes, I… I suppose that I did. Would it help if I told you now, to your face, that I mean you no harm?”
“Do you think I would believe you?”
“No, why… why would you?” he mumbled, pushing his fingers through his hair.
“I suppose my letter was a little sharp. But please, consider the situation from my perspective. I had just lost my father, just as you had. I had no mother or sisters to console me, and I had to manage the tangle of that wretched estate. I won’t deny that I wished you all away.
But can’t a man change his mind? Can’t a man regret what he did? ”
Amelia folded her arms and glanced away. He sounded earnest enough, but that meant nothing. He had made no move to leap on her and strangle her, or anything equally terrible. Instead, he kept a respectful distance, shifting the heavy lantern awkwardly from hand to hand.
“But never mind that,” he continued. “You are crying, Amelia. You are upset.”
“No, I am not.”
“You are. What is it? Is it the Duke? Did he do something to you?”
She glared at him. “Don’t you dare speak about him. You did something terrible to him, if you recall.”
Harry frowned. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
“He told me the whole story,” she insisted, lifting her chin.
“You had him press-ganged. He was put on a ship and sent to war, and had to survive for years in the most appalling conditions. And then, to make matters worse, you sent some assassin after him while he was struggling to survive, to ensure that he would not return home.”
“Are you in jest?” Harry said, his voice catching. “You are jesting with me, aren’t you? None of that is true. None of it.”
“How dare you deny it?”
“I don’t deny we were press-ganged, of course not!
We were set upon by ruffians in an alley.
They knocked me unconscious, and when I woke, Stephen was gone.
I guessed what had happened, but Stephen’s father and my own father told me to stay quiet and swallow the shame while they searched for him. I did not arrange it. What a notion.”
She stared at him, her brow furrowing. “That can’t be true. I don’t believe you.”
“I thought you might not. Here, feel this.”
Before she could say a word, he hurried over and settled on the damp stone bench beside her. He seized her hand and pressed it against his brow.
“You feel that?” he asked, holding her gaze. “The raised scar just above my eyebrow? One of the men struck me, cut me there. I got that injury while trying to reach Stephen. I was drunk, like a fool, but would I have struggled so hard if I had arranged for him to be abducted?”
He let go of her hand, and she let it fall, drawing it back to her chest. She didn’t think she’d ever touched her brother before, not even in a handshake.
“So you think that Stephen is lying?” she scoffed. “Why would he do that? And don’t say that he would be ashamed to be press-ganged.”
“I wasn’t going to say that. I did not say that he was lying, I am only saying…” Harry wavered, shaking his head. “Perhaps he truly believes it.”
“Oh, so now you say that he’s mad?”
“No, Amelia, you are not being fair. You are putting words in my mouth. Stephen had endured a great many terrible things and so many injustices.” He shuddered, shaking his head.
“Perhaps he needed that anger to survive. Don’t you agree?
I’m fairly sure that your anger at me carried you through the worst of times after Father died, just as my anger at our father carried me through the difficult times after his funeral. ”
“But Stephen said—”
“You shouldn’t believe everything Stephen says,” Harry interrupted.
“He always did play fast and loose with the truth. He could fool himself, too. For example, he used to talk about himself and me going on a Grand Tour together, even though he knew full well I could never afford it. Father was never good with money, and he spent a great deal on your mother and sisters. There was nothing left for me.”
Amelia bit her lip hard. “I didn’t know that.”
He shrugged. “I suspect Stephen nurtured his anger to survive. Through all the horrors he endured and the hardships he faced, he held on to the thought of returning home to bring me to justice, to punish me. I have no doubt that he blames me. After all, why shouldn’t he?
It was my fault we were in that alley at all.
Without me and my overindulgence in alcohol, we would have gone home.
Life would have continued as normal. For you and me, that is.
“For Stephen, he would have continued to grow and thrive with his father. Perhaps the old Duke would have lived a little longer without the stress of missing his son chipping away at his health. No doubt Stephen would have married some fine woman with a huge fortune and impeccable breeding. Please, don’t take offence, but it’s a sad thing when a duke must stoop to marrying a seamstress. ”
Amelia flinched, sucking in a breath. She was on her feet before she knew it, scrambling to face him. Harry stayed sitting, looking up at her mournfully.
“That is cruel, Harry,” she hissed. “You are cruel. None of this can be true. Stephen can’t possibly—”
“You’re saying that he was abducted as the result of a ploy made by his best friend?
” Harry sounded exhausted. “What on earth would make me do such a thing? And then to hide it for so many years? I would have to be a mad fool. Don’t you think it’s much more likely that Stephen was simply unlucky?
He stepped into the wrong alley at the wrong time, when our country was just going to war.
It was such an abominable piece of bad luck that I do not blame him for seeking to make somebody a villain.
If blaming me enables him to sleep at night and not lie awake thinking of the things he has done, then so be it. ”
He paused, letting her think over what he’d said.
It made sense. Somehow, it all made sense.
“I don’t know if I should believe you,” she muttered.
Harry sighed. “I understand. I have not been a friend to you, Amelia. The truth is that it was too painful to learn of your existence. To learn that Father betrayed my mother so cruelly, and kept the existence of my three half-sisters from me. It was not easy.”
She bit her lip, glancing away. She thought again of the Viscountess St. Louis and felt a pang of guilt. That woman had done nothing wrong.
“Did your mother know? About us?” she ventured.
Harry stared at his feet, tapping his long fingers against the stone bench.
“She was never told explicitly,” he answered.
“But I believe she guessed. She was always in a terrible mood whenever Father left for any length of time. It took me a long time to realize he was visiting you, and when I finally did, I felt a great deal of rage. Not at you, you understand, but at your mother. She should never have thrown herself at another woman’s husband.
But at the end of it all, the one we should truly blame is our father, don’t you agree? ”
Amelia twisted her fingers together, tilting her head up to stare at the moonlit sky.
“I think that he was weak,” Harry continued. “A kind man, but a weak one. He could deny us nothing, but he could deny himself nothing, either. His finances reflected that. I had to work hard to replenish the St. Louis coffers, but I have done it.”
“May I ask you something, Harry?”
“Of course.”
“You threw us out of the house we’d always lived in, without a penny. Did… Did Father leave us anything? Some money, or perhaps the house?”
Harry lifted his head, meeting her gaze. “You think that I would have kept your rightful inheritance from you?” he murmured wryly. “Now, who put that idea in your head, I wonder?”
She flushed. “Just answer me, please, Harry.”