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 havetrulyspoken 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. “Allof 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 makethemhappy.
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.”
