“Good God,” his brother said, and stopped to swallow rather loudly. “I just think you may have destroyed more than you realize tonight, Dev. We cannot simply tear down the whole framework of our lives in the name of righteousness. Yet I believe that is what you have done. What will be left now—for Mama, for our sisters and Owen? For you?” He inhaled slowly and audibly. “For me?”
“Ihave destroyed an awful lot,” Devlin said. He did not even bother to make it into a question. “Yes, it was all my fault. I understand, Nick. It was not our father’s fault, but mine. He is only guilty of adultery and debauchery and blatant disrespect for his wife and family. I am guilty of something far worse—of telling the truth.”
Hedidunderstand too. At long last. He had misunderstood his world all his life. He had assumed it was built upon truth and light and honesty and decency. But it was not. It was all about appearances, about respectability, about preserving a facade that was essentially empty. And by misunderstanding, he had torn down that flimsy illusion to discover there was nothing left. Only human suffering. In particular, his mother’s. And he was the cause of that suffering. Not his charming, laughing, philandering father, whose infidelities she had somehow managed, preserving a life for herself despite them. Not his father, buthim, Devlin, with his unconsidered righteousness.
And what had happened to Gwyneth? He had not even missed her until he had come up to his room here in obedience to his grandfather’s command. How deeply had he embarrassed her?
He looked at his half brother, who had not said a word yet, either in the drawing room earlier or now. “And what about you, Ben?” he asked. “Do you have anything to add? Any further coals to heap on my head?”
Ben eyed his bags, packed and ready to go, and then looked at him. “When are we leaving?” he asked.
Devlin regarded him in silence for a moment.
“What?”he said then.“We?”
“I am going with you,” his brother said.
“Why?”Devlin asked.
Ben half smiled, though there was no amusement in hisexpression. “I am the son of one of his whores, am I not?” he said. “Theonlymistress he ever had, of course. Because he loved her dearly and passionately. Or so he has told me more than once. He would have married her, but he was an earl’s heir with obligations, and she was not an eligible bride. His heart broke when she died, and would never quite mend. Though he has me to remember her by. A favored son though he cannot in all good conscience have actual favorites among his children. It would seem, Dev, that I have been as naïve as you but with less excuse. I am older than you. I have always believed him because I have wanted to. But I have always known that I am nevertheless the bastard son of a whore. It is now obvious that my mother—mymother—wasjustone of countless numbers of whores our father has used. Does that answer your question?” His voice, trembling with bitterness, was almost unrecognizable. Tonight, Devlin realized, had shattered Ben’s illusions as surely as it had shattered his own. Ben’s mother had been dishonored tonight just as much as his own had.
Nicholas had turned his back on the room. He was weeping silently, Devlin realized with a terrible lurching of the heart.
What had he done?
—
Stephanie was an early riser. When Devlin tapped on the door of her bedchamber just before seven o’clock and opened it cautiously, he found her fully dressed and sitting on her bed, reading, her back propped against the pillows, one braid over each shoulder, her knees drawn up before her. Her eyes took in his travel garments and she snapped shut her book, smiled sunnily, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“Are you going riding?” she asked. “Let me come too. I can be ready in a minute.”
“Owen is still sleeping,” he said. “I need to talk to the two of you.”
“He will grumble and complain and hide his head under his pillows if you try to wake him,” she said. “Then he will be in a bad mood all morning. He is going to have to get up for church later, but not quite yet. Tell me and I’ll tell him.”
“Come with me to his room,” he said.
She looked more closely at him. “What is wrong?” she asked. “You look as if you have not slept at all. You haven’t, have you?”
“Come with me,” he said instead of answering her question. And they went together into Owen’s room. Ben was in there, standing with folded arms to one side of the door.
“You too, Ben?” Stephanie said in a whisper. “He is going to be awfully cross if we wake him. He was up half the night talking and laughing with Clarence. I heard them. I would have come and thrown pillows at them, but it would have been two against one. It would have been a massacre.”
Young Cousin Clarence was still fast asleep in his own room next door. Ben had checked.
“Owen.” Devlin touched his brother’s shoulder and then shook it gently. “Wake up for a minute. I need to talk to you and Steph.”
Owen tried to shake off his hand while growling a protest. “Wadduyouwant?” he asked crossly when the hand did not go away. “Lemmealone. Goway.”
“Wake up,” Devlin said, and his brother opened his eyes, looked from one to another of his visitors, and yawned hugely without covering his mouth. Then he looked more alert.
“Oh, I say. I suppose this is about the vase,” he said. “It wasn’t me who smashed it, Dev. But we were all in a group, and there was a bit of horseplay going on, and... Well, the vase got knocked over and smashed. I knew Mama would be dreadfully upset because itwas worth a fortune and she liked it, but the middle of a ball didn’t seem the right time to tell her. That’s why I hid the pieces. I would have told this morning. And I’ll take the blame. It was as much my fault as... Well, ashis.I am not going to say his name. I promised I would not.”
“It is not about the vase,” Devlin said. “I have come to say goodbye. It is still very early, but I did not want to leave without telling the two of you.”
“Oh, you aregoingsomewhere,” Stephanie cried. “Where? How long are you going to be gone? Can we go too?”
“I am not coming back, Steph,” Devlin said. “I am leaving.”
