Charles jerked his head up and the two brothers locked gazes for a long moment. Years of hurt flowed there, too sharp for Silas, drawing him back to long stretches when he’d had no power. He didn’t want to return to those days.
He smoothed his jacket. “Charlie, I’m here. You’re obviously unwell and I shouldn’t make it worse by arguing. Why don’t you think about exactly what it is you want me to do and I’ll return in a few days to check on you? I’m letting a place on Camberley Park, I’ll leave the address with Russell if you have need of me.”
He moved to the door but not quickly, allowing his brother time to call him back if he wished to do so. He didn’t. So Silas sighed and turned without being asked.
“I do hate that you’re ill, Charlie,” he said. “For whatever that’s worth. Good night.”
“Good night, Silas,” Charles said softly, and let him go.
But as Silas made his way back through the house of his nightmares, his hands shook. How he hated what this place and these people made him feel. And he knew one way to take the edge off it all.
* * *
When Arabella had marched herself to Simone Stanhope’s fine London townhouse and demanded she be trained in the arts of a courtesan, she had walked away from everything in her old life. Her father had cut her off in a rage so deep it still terrified her. Her sisters had been, albeit briefly, torn away from her. She’d lost her clothes and her money and everything but her own wits and charms.
Except for, that was, Aunt Caroline. Although Caroline had cautioned her against what she’d done, although she hadn’t ever been able to support her financially or risk the consequences of a public connection, she had never withheld her love of Arabella. Nor of Evelina and Julia when they’d joined Arabella in London and on her chosen path.
These suppers, like the one Arabella was currently attending, were a monthly occurrence between the women. A little glimpse back at the life they’d all departed and a way to keep in contact with the aunt they all treasured.
“Aunt Caroline,” Julia was saying. “Did you ever determine why your book kept getting moved from its place in the library?”
Caroline laughed. “It was my maid, Peg. She thought I had finished that one because the title was so similar to the next by the author. She thought another servant must be sneaking a read of it and kept putting it away. It’s all resolved now.”
“It’s disappointing it wasn’t a ghost after all,” Evelina said with a sigh.
“You were the only one who ever considered that possibility,” Arabella said. “And it’s because you read far too many gothic novels yourself.”
“You sound like Harry now,” Evelina said. “He keeps trying to convince me to stop reading them. He even threatens to empty my library.”
“He says he’ll take your books?” Arabella asked, unable to keep the sharpness from her tone.
Julia shot her a look and then burst out, “Did either of you tell Aunt Caroline that Simone gave her regards?”
All three sisters glanced toward their aunt, giggling at her red-cheeked response to that statement. She always blushed when the topic of Simone came up. She’d been positively plum the one and only time the two women had met. Caroline was polite—of course, their aunt was too kind to be cruel or dismissive. But the two women were from vastly different worlds and it was fun to watch her stammer and go pink whenever someone said Simone’s name.
“You will have to return my own,” Caroline finally managed to choke out. “I caught a glimpse of her at the opera the other week, you know. She was in her box with…isn’t she currently with the Marquess of Harding?”
“You know a great deal about a courtesan’s movements,” Arabella teased. “Yes, she’s with Harding. Lord, that man hardly deserves to shine her boots, but there it is.”
“Miss Stanhope is a friend to you girls,” their aunt said, turning away to set her glass on the sideboard. “Of course I notice her.”
Arabella opened her mouth to say more, but the parlor door opened and Caroline’s butler was there. “Supper is served, Mrs. Ashfield, ladies.”
“Thank you, Dennis,” Caroline said, and looked genuinely relieved as they all made their way to the supper table. She was just too easy to tease.
They were seated and a wonderful meal began. They spoke of theatre and music, of old acquaintances and new scandals in Society. At least she and her sisters had more insider information on those than their aunt often did, for they all saw Society from a very different angle now.
“And when will Southwater go to his country estate this year?” her aunt asked as the desserts were brought.
Evelina’s smile softened a fraction, as it always did when Southwater was mentioned. Over the last two years, and despite Arabella’s annoyance at the idea that he might try to manage what her sister read, he was normally a good protector. He seemed to care for Evelina and it was evident she felt far more than just attraction for him.
“Harry will stay until the final session of the House of Lords,” she said. “He always takes his duty very seriously. Then he’ll be out in Southwater for a month or so.”
“Will you join him?” Julia asked.
Evelina nodded. “I always do, at least for some of the time. I do love it there. The estate is lovely.”
Julia leaned on the table with an almost gooey-eyed expression. Unlike Arabella, her sisters still had a good dose of the romantic in them. Evelina had often spoke about how she thought Southwater would be her last protector. He’d made promises, it seemed, to keep her almost as his wife. To put off marrying for as long as he could and to make a political match and nothing more when he did. Those promises worried Arabella, for she’d often seen courtesans burned by such things.
