Chapter 11
D espite all his desire to avoid it, Silas found himself sitting in his brother’s parlor two afternoons after he’d woken up alone, no Arabella.
He’d heard from her since, of course. She’d checked in on his state the morning after.
He’d written her about racing again in the park.
There was something romantic about sending letters back and forth that he didn’t want to explore.
Certainly he wasn’t going to do that now.
Not in this moment as he sat on the settee, his sister Phoebe at his side and his two brothers across from him in chairs.
Charlie looked better this time. Unlike the first night Silas had encountered him, he was dressed.
His cheeks were less pale and pasty. In truth he looked so much like a marquess…
so much like their father…that Silas had to keep blinking to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.
Reggie’s expression was pinched, but thus far he hadn’t said or done anything to antagonize or accuse. And Phoebe was, as always, kind. Silas smiled at her and she returned the expression as they continued awkward small talk with their tea.
How Silas wished it were whisky.
He shifted, his discomfort blooming in his chest and making him watch the door restlessly. At last he set his cup down. “I appreciate this moment of familial bonding, but I think we all know you didn’t call me here, call me back to London, so we could discuss the state of the weather or the roads.”
“Always so direct, Silas,” Phoebe said softly at his side.
He smiled toward her, masking his nervousness. “My position forced it, I think. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“I suppose in this case, it is a good thing,” Charlie said, and glanced at Reggie briefly.
“You’ve been home for almost two weeks and we’ve avoided this subject long enough.
I’ve tried to tell myself that I’ve done so due to my illness or the fact that you were still getting accustomed to being in London, but the truth of it is that I didn’t quite know how to say it. ”
Silas stared at his oldest brother, trying not to think of Reggie’s statement that Charlie was dying. Perhaps all this was about that fact and he didn’t know what to think or feel about that possibility.
Charlie smoothed his hands over his thighs and then said, “After Father died, we were all…emotional. There were things said, actions taken, that I think didn’t reflect anyone’s true feelings.”
“You mean that fact that Reggie punched me in the face for declaring the marquess wasn’t much of a father to me and so I couldn’t mourn him?”
It was poorly done to point out the specifics, and he knew it even before all three of his siblings flinched.
And Charlie was correct that what he’d said that day wasn’t true.
He’d spent years afterward doing exactly that: mourning a man whose inconsistent affection had left a hole in him that no amount of whisky or cards or lovers could fill.
Well, most lovers. The edges of that hole felt a little less sharp when he was with Arabella.
“Yes,” Charlie said softly. “Just that. When you left, I always regretted it.”
Charlie glanced at Reggie and he pursed his lips. “As did I.”
Silas couldn’t help but laugh. “That sounds very sincere, Reg, thank you.”
“Just because I think you’re a colossal prick doesn’t mean that I wanted to do something that wretched,” Reggie said, then shook his head. “Christ, you make everything so difficult.”
“As you keep saying,” Silas snapped.
Phoebe reached out and touched his hand.
“Silas, this is something the three of us have truly spoken of many times over the years. Our remorse over a great many things, not just the words and actions after Father’s death.
We all know that your treatment as a child under this roof wasn’t always…
kind. We might have contributed to that unkindness, certainly none of us questioned it as we might have done. ”
Silas stared at her, uncertain what to say when these entirely unexpected words were coming from her mouth.
“My illness gave my thoughts more urgency,” Charlie said.
“There were moments when I lay there on the brink, cataloguing my regrets, and chief amongst them was the way you’d been cut away from the family.
Pushed out, or at least I think you’d see it that way.
I asked Phoebe to bring you back, to ask you back, because we want to… to…”
“Have you back in the fold,” Reggie finished with a shrug. “ All of us.”
Silas stared at them, uncertain how to respond to this utterly unexpected declaration. His whole childhood he’d longed to be fully accepted by this family, had tried to mold himself and make himself more palatable to them all, including his father.
Eventually when he realized nothing he did would make them love him, he decided that they would bloody well not ignore him. And thus, Silas the rake and rogue had been born. That version of himself had felt more real than any other he’d created to make them happy.
But now they were talking about being a family. About acceptance. The flutter of anxiety and joy that blossomed in his chest made him see that the lonely boy he’d been hadn’t been entirely smothered. He still wanted the family he’d been denied.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” he began softly. “I realize my existence was difficult for you all. As an adult I understand why far more. But what do you mean by back in the fold?”
Reggie leaned back in his chair. “Everyone knows you’re our half-brother.”
“Brother,” Charlie said softly.
“Yes, of course. Our brother. It’s never been a secret. I suppose what we mean is more inclusion in family events, requests of your opinion in decisions made for the good of our father’s legacy.”
“You have as much right to steer that, after all, as anyone else,” Phoebe said, and touched his hand briefly. “We would more publicly and full-throatedly accept you.”
Silas shifted. He’d stopped wanting to be some Society fop years and years ago. And yet this was still a sparkling decoration being dangled before him.
“I see.” He looked from one sibling to the next. “And yet I sense there is a caveat, something bitter to follow this seemingly sweet offer.”
Charlie let out a long sigh. “Well, we would, of course, need to discuss your activities. Your behavior.”
Chest tightening, Silas forced out his next words. “My activities. Which ones, specifically?”
“Racing like a lunatic through Hyde Park?” Reggie said. “Getting drunk at Flynn’s and losing how much at cards?”
“I actually won a hundred pounds, but do go on,” Silas said, waving his hand with flourish as if this was all some presentation.
“And what about the fisticuffs with Lord Archibald that same night?” Charlie said softly.
Silas shook his head. “That didn’t happen, no matter what was written in the scandal sheets. There was a little pushing, yes, but no punches thrown. And it was Archibald who started it.”
Reggie made a sound of frustration, but said nothing as Charlie lifted a hand to stop him. He met Silas’s gaze evenly. “And then there’s Arabella Comerford.”
Silas froze at that. “And what is wrong with Arabella?”
“She’s a courtesan,” Reggie burst out, getting to his feet and pacing the room.
“Indeed, she is.” Silas leaned back and putting on a show of casual nonchalance even though he felt none of it. “Are you certain you wish to discuss her then with Phoebe sitting here? Our innocent sister.”
Phoebe let out a snort. “I’m forty years old and have been married and widowed twice . Not to mention born five children. I haven’t been an innocent for years. Even if I were, I think everyone knows about Arabella Comerford.” She glanced at Silas. “She’s uncommonly pretty.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Silas agreed with a wink for her.
“And infamous ,” Reggie snapped, slamming his hands down on the back of the chair he had abandoned a moment before.
“Why do you care?” Silas asked. “Christ, I’m certain both of you have had mistresses in your time.
And Reg is married. So why does my connection with a courtesan make a fucking…
apologies, Phoebe…bit of difference to whether I’ll be accepted by you lot or not?
It sounds like it’s just some excuse so that you can offer me this but not truly mean it. Some little game.”
“It’s not a game,” Charlie insisted, and reached up to rub his eyes. He looked a little pale now, tired. “Christ. Yes, gentlemen have mistresses…apologies, Phoebe.”
“Good Lord, please stop apologizing to me, all of you,” she interrupted with a wave of her hand.
Charlie continued, “But it’s one thing to have a discreet arrangement with some level of propriety and composure. It’s quite another to rush around with a woman who is sought after, yes, but also known as entirely wild.”
“Imprudent, foolish ,” Reg added.
“She brings out the worst in you.”
Silas flinched. The worst in him. What his brother meant, of course, was the most natural in him. When he was with Arabella, he felt…free. More like himself than he had been since his father’s death and his self-exile from the life and family he’d known.
They wanted to tame his wild, he realized, using the same term Arabella had said to him when they first met each other again at the Donville Masquerade.
They wanted to take that center of him that wasn’t just like them.
Take away his spirit. Take away the one thing that gave him real pleasure, and not just the physical kind.
He shook his head. “Arabella Comerford is neither imprudent nor foolish. Spend two minutes with her and you’ll know she’s one of the most intelligent people in this or any country.
She is wild, but that is because she is only entirely herself and does not let people like you dictate how she views herself and the world.
You cannot control her, which is what you don’t like. ”
“Oh, Silas, really,” Charlie said on a long sigh.