“Decided to emerge from your room at last?” Winston asked when she arrived in the drawing room before dinner. He stood near the fireplace with a drink in hand but there was no sign of her aunt.
A rush of anger filled Eliza, surprising her with its strength. The one person who should’ve stood beside her hadn’t. If she wasn’t important to him, why should she allow him to be important to her?
She held tight to it, drawing from its strength, and moved to stand directly before him.
“That you didn’t offer me the benefit of the doubt is disappointing, Winston. As is the fact that you haven’t allowed me to explain. Why do you choose to think the worst of me before hearing the truth?”
Her brother’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by her passionate words.
“If you have so little regard for me, I will remove myself to the country estate until further notice.” That would also serve to distance herself from London and Philip. Perhaps doing so would be for the best.
She waited a moment to see if he’d respond. When he only stood staring at her, she turned to go, unable to bear any more.
“Eliza, wait.”
She stopped but didn’t look back.
“I’m sorry.” The softly spoken words had her turning around. “I should’ve listened to what you had to say.” He gestured to one of the chairs. “Will you explain now?”
Eliza appreciated his words but didn’t know if he was sincere. Would he actually listen to her?
“I truly am sorry,” he said. “Please?”
With a deep breath, she moved to the chair, wondering where to begin. And whether it would make any difference.
Markus’s comment about his father and brother bothered Philip to no end. They were gone and he didn’t understand why Markus continued to say such things. It almost made him wonder if his cousin knew something Philip didn’t.
The concern had Philip seeking out his uncle before dinner that evening.
“Uncle Herbert, I have a question,” Philip said as he joined him before the fire in the drawing room where his uncle was enjoying a drink.
“Of course. What is it?”
Philip hesitated, wondering how to ask. His uncle resembled Philip’s father in many ways, especially in his eyes. That made it even more difficult to raise the topic.
“Is there something I don’t know about my father?”
“How do you mean?” Uncle Herbert smoothed his thick grey moustache as he frowned at Philip.
“Did he or Oscar ever act without honor?”
His uncle shifted in his seat, making Philip wonder if the subject made him uncomfortable. “Why do you ask?”
Philip watched him closely. “Markus said something that made me wonder.”
The sigh his uncle heaved suggested it came from the depths of his soul. “Markus shouldn’t have said anything.”
“So there is something to it?” He waited as his uncle seemed to consider whether to tell him. “I would like to know.”
“Your father wasn’t perfect. No man is. And Oscar did his best to act as your father wanted him to. Unfortunately, your father didn’t always do the right thing.”
“No one expects perfection. It’s impossible.”
“True. But despite your father’s own mistakes, he still seemed to expect it from Oscar.”
Distant memories of conversations came to Philip’s mind. Ones he’d chosen to forget. Of his father berating Oscar for minor mistakes. Choosing the wrong friends. Losing at cards. Showing interest in an “unsuitable” woman. Was it any wonder that Philip had gone out of his way not to try to live up to his father’s expectations?
“Do you remember the land your father acquired a few months before Oscar died? The tract to the north of the estate?”
