Henry’s lips pursed. “As in Céline Genevieve Baxter. My mother.” He came to stand beside me, staring down at the paper. “She died three days after I was born—complications related to childbirth.”
My heart dropped into my feet. “Oh, Henry. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have?—”
“There’s no need to apologise, Catnip. You couldn’t have known, and itisa very unusual name for a man. Warren, in his grief, gave me her name. And then blamed me at every opportunity for her death. Especially once he realised that I was … different.”
Henry sighed, gripping the back of the lounge with white knuckles. “He used to tell me that he wished the doctors had saved her instead of me. Said that I was too retarded to amount to anything, that I was a waste of oxygen.”
“What a despicable thing to say to a child!” I raged, covering his hand with my own, applying the pressure I knew he preferred.
Henry laughed mirthlessly. “Well, joke’s on him now, isn’t it? Because I did amount to something, despite his complete lack of support, and he will never get a single cent of my money.”
“Whodidsupport you?” I asked, curling my fingers through his. “Growing up, I mean?”
“Lucian was always there for me, and his mother—my aunt—she was the one who recognised what was wrong with me and got me assessed.” He snorted. “Not that Warren would acknowledge the diagnosis, but at least it made school a bit easier, because I was able to get extra support.”
I swallowed through the lump in my throat and turned to face him. “Firstly, there isnothing‘wrong’ with you! Don’t you ever use those words again, Henry Céline Baxter!”
A ghost of a smile flitted around the edges of his lips. “Noted. And … is there a secondly?”
“Secondly …” I paused, uncertain. But there was no good reason why I shouldn’t share more of my pain with him. He’d proven over and over again that he could handle my mess.
“My mother died in childbirth too. She bled out holding my newborn brother, while my uncle watched.”
“Your uncle … because your father was already gone by then?” Henry asked softly. I nodded, eyes fixed on his clavicle.
“Andrei was my half-brother. When my uncle disposed of my father, he took his place in every possible way. Including … enjoying my mother.” I almost gagged on the words, the memory of him grunting over my mother’s limp form forced its way to the forefront of my mind.
Henry’s hands slid up my arms to grip my shoulders, and his sharp intake of breath had me glancing up into his serious, green eyes. His face was tight, brows furrowed. “I will never let that man anywhere near you again.” His voice was deep and rough. His fingers slid up my neck to catch my face in his hands. “I promise you that, Catnip.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, stepping out of his reach and turning away. I didn’t want him to see the distress on my face.
It wasn’t my uncle I needed to worry about, though. And there was no way in the world I was telling Henry abouthim…
“Only if I attend with you! Henry’s orders!” Lucian growled.
“It’s just an hour or so at some bar in Paddington, and I’ll be there with Kat and a few of her theatre friends!” I argued, glaring at Lucian as I squeezed water from my hair. “What’s the big deal?”
“Why can’t you dry your hair before you get back in the car?” he snapped. I flipped my middle finger at him behind the seat where he couldn’t see it in the rear-view mirror.
“I would have if you weren’t so antsy about whisking me away the second I climbed out of the pool! Calm your palm, Lucian!”
He was silent for a long moment, and I mentally high fived myself for shutting him up.
Until he snorted.
“Did you just say, ‘calm your palm’?”
Naiba! I should never use these weird English sayings when I was trying to win an argument.
“Yes!” I replied belligerently. “Calm your palm! Like, stop shaking your coconuts at me, you massive jerk-off!”
Lucian’s mouth curved up, and it took years off his grouchy countenance. “You know what, Irina, I like that. I might even prefer it to the real phrase, which, by the way, is calm yourfarm.”
I sniffed. “Well, that makes literally no sense. Why would a farm need to be calmed?”
Lucian shrugged. “Mad cow disease?”
I choked back my laugh, because I was mad at him for being such a high-handed jerk, and squeezed more water out of my hair, just because I could.
