A long beat of silence.
“And you took the time to inform me of this . . .” Kendall trailed off.
“Because I wanted ye tae understand that ye are welcome at my door. Should ye ever decide tae visit.”
Kendall blinked.
That would never happen.
And so he said as much: “That will never happen.”
“As ye wish.” Sir Rafe turned his hat again. “I ken that the events of the past week have been upsetting, for both yourself and—”
A bark of caustic laughter escaped before Kendall could squelch it. “And so you couldn’t ignore an opportunity to gloat in triumph?”
“Nae, ye may hold myself in low esteem, but I am hardly that sort ofgentleman. I wanted tae offer ye an olive branch.” That same wan smile touched Sir Rafe’s lips. “I have always, and will always, consider yourself tae be family.”
“We both know that to be a lie.” Kendall’s tone dripped acid. “I recall someone recently stating I am notworth it. No gentleman willingly welcomes those he deemsunworthyinto his home, much less his intimate life.”
The hat in Sir Rafe’s hands stilled. “I . . . I must apologize for those words, Kendall. They were spoken thoughtlessly in the moment, and I have regretted them ever since. I most certainly did not mean them.”
“How typical of you,” Kendall sneered. “Breezily speaking your truest thoughts and then ignoring the very real consequences of them.”
“Again, I apologize for my lapse. I recognize that our heartless sire kept ye isolated. Ye were only permitted a few weeks at Eton before he called ye home—”
“No thanks to yourself!” Kendall snapped. “Again: Words. Have. Consequences.” He enunciated each syllable with militant precision.
Sir Rafe acknowledged the hit, his head rearing back.
“Ye were allowed tae go to Oxford,” his brother said, “but ye made no friends. Not a one.”
Ye made no friends.
The harsh truth in those spare words lashed Kendall’s psyche. The past week had definitively proved that, aside from his sister, there was not a single other human being on the planet who cared a fig for his continued existence.
“Get out!” Kendall strode toward the door, intent on calling a brace of footmen to drag his brother to the street. “I refuse to be so mocked and humiliated in my own home!”
“Ye made no friends because Kendall chased off anyone friendly to yourself,” Sir Rafe’s voice called from behind. “Your lack of friends had nothing tae do with yourself, and everything to do with our father’s desperate need for control.”
Kendall stilled, chest heaving.
What idiocy.
Surely, that was a falsehood.
Frowning, he turned to look back at his brother.
Sir Rafe continued, “Old Kendall knew that the friends I made at university—Hadley being chief among them—were my ultimate source of strength. And it was those relationships, those friends, that caused our father’s downfall in the end. Our sire was a vicious, malevolent man, but he was not an unintelligent one: He learned from his mistakes with me and ensured that you never formed alliances outside of himself. Yourprotection officer”—he leaned on the descriptor with heavy mockery—“guaranteed it. Kendall deliberately kept ye isolated and alone.”
Kendall’s thoughts turned inward.
Memories rose.
Laughing over dinner with a gentleman, only to have the man shun him two days later.
Inviting another potential friend to go rowing along the Thames, only to have the man fail to arrive at the appointed time.
Talking animatedly with an interesting gentleman each day before lecture, only to have the man be called abruptly home after three weeks.
