Jem stares at me as if he thinks I have lost my mind, but then a wry smile stretches across his face and he shakes his head in a gesture that looks almost fond. It warms my heart and makes me feel a little gooey inside. It’s better than I deserve, considering how intense and personal our last conversation was.
“I’m sorry if I crossed the line,” I blurt.
Crossed the line? I pole vaulted over it and then obliterated it with dynamite. And that’s putting it mildly. Jem has every right to never talk to me again. But he smiles softly again and clearly catches on to what I am rambling about.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
I smile at him, and we take our plates over to the table and sit down.
“Did Harry have a happy childhood?” I say whilst trying to appear all sweet and innocent.
I’m met with a stony glare. Then Jem’s eyes linger on my swollen eye, and he relents with a soft sigh.
“When he was fourteen, he outgrew our father in terms of spell casting ability, so he was sent to apprentice with Earl Rathbone for two years. The whole thing was terribly hush, hush because we couldn’t let anyone know that father was less than competent.”
Jem winces, as if he feels bad for even saying that much about his deceased father. But he takes a breath and continues.
“Rathbone’s oldest was nineteen, away at university, but it meant Rathbone had recent experience of teenage boys and teaching them magic. It seemed like an excellent arrangement.”
Jem pauses again.
“I was only four, but even I could see that Harry was never the same again. It was like the light went out of him.”
A silence falls. I cannot think of a single thing to say to that. It’s awful. It’s tragic. I wish it had never happened. But it has and all I can do is try to help Harry deal with the consequences.
My gaze meets Jem’s and the hope I see in them is daunting. He wants me to help his brother. He thinks I might be able to do it. I have no idea why he thinks so highly of me and I very much doubt I can live up to it. But I’m going to try my best.
He reads my intention and gives a satisfied nod. We resume eating in silence while my thoughts whirl. What a tragic family I have married into. First whatever happened to Harry while he was in Rathbone’s care, then their parents dying, followed by Jem being assaulted and subsequently being ruined in the eyes of society.
My entrapment of Harry must have made them feel like they were under a family curse or something. Familiar feelings of guilt start to twist through me and I try to quash them down. It was an accident, I meant them no ill will and now I am here, I’m going to do everything I can to be a blessing to this family. For better or worse, it’s my family now.
Chapter sixteen
Thetelevisiontalkstoitself while I vaguely stare at it. My face is gently throbbing and my mind is whirling with a thousand thoughts. Cornering Jem at lunch has given me plenty to think about.
I’m sitting here as I try to recall everything I know about Earl Rathbone. Considering he has been a recluse for a decade, buried in his alchemy work, there has been a lot of gossip about him recently. The first thing that comes to mind is that Earl Hathbury challenged him to a duel for his vessel and won. Then Rathbone’s son, Lord Garrington, declared his love for his own brother, who turned out not to be his brother at all because Rathbone had been cuckolded by his second wife, but the earl still disowned his son for it.
I frown. Wait a minute. It might have been the other way around, disowning the son first and then losing his vessel to Hathbury. Either way, that’s a lot of scandal in just a couple of years.
I sit up straighter as a puzzle piece falls into place. It was Lord Garrington’s not-brother that Harry assaulted on a balcony and tried to claim as his vessel. The event which led to him fighting a duel with Lord Garrington. Harry lost, but then Garrington ended up being disowned a few months later, so that must have eased the sting a little.
But what if there was more to the story than that? What if it was more than Harry not being able to keep his hands to himself while coveting a beautiful and powerful vessel? It is a striking coincidence that it was the supposed son of the man he was secretly apprenticed to.
Had it been revenge?
Had the plan been to obtain Fennrick Montfort as his vessel? But then what? Surely Harry would not make an innocent man pay for the crimes of his father? I don’t think Harry is so malicious. Maybe the plan was just to piss Rathbone off by claiming his son? Who turned out not to be his son. Did Harry know that part? Gah! This is so confusing.
I sigh and rub my forehead. Mysteries within mysteries. I have a feeling there is going to be a huge tangled web of them to sort through. It’s a little daunting. Will I ever be able to get to the bottom of it all? Do I even need to? Perhaps I’m going down the wrong path. I can be supportive without knowing the ins and outs of everything. Prodding around might let the cat out of the bag or open a can of worms or whatever similar saying is appropriate.
My thoughts are scattered by Harrison, the butler, knocking sharply on my door and entering. He looks as formidable as ever, with a flawless posture that I can only dream of.
“Earl and Countess Devonshire are seated in the drawing room, your Grace.”
“My parents?” I gasp as I jump to my feet.
“Yes,” Harrison replies drolly as if he thinks I am completely daft for thinking there may be a different Earl and Countess Devonshire.
I dash down to the drawing room in a giddying wave of excitement and as I approach the door, I hear my mother’s voice telling Father her opinion on the fireplace. I feel a grin stretch across my face. It is so lovely that they are here.
