She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Andrew. You should head to bed now. It’s getting late.”
Andrew nodded. “Good night, miss.”
“Sleep tight,” she replied.
She turned back to William, who was regarding her thoughtfully, more serious than she’d ever seen him. “You’re an odd duck, Finn.”
She snorted. “Because I said good night?” But her cheeks reddened. This was yet another example of how little she fit into this world.
“You should marry me,” Will said.
Fiona spat out her mouthful of scotch. “Marry ye?What the devil are ye talking about?”
He shrugged. “You are more interesting than any Mayfair miss I’ve met. They can’t seem to discuss anything other than the weather, who is wearing what, and the latest gossip. What man actuallywantsto marry that?”
Fiona took a measured sip from her glass, giving herself time to form a response. This was Will, after all. She had no desire to hurt him. “It’s a big leap from ‘I like talking to you’ to ‘let’s get married.’”
William snickered. “It would really piss off Wilde. I think he has a tendre for you.”
And there was the crux of it—why the younger Stirling brother had interest in her. She sighed and cocked her head. “Why do ye hate him so much? He is the one who raised you.”
William tossed back the rest of his drink. “Because he’s a controlling bastard who has dictated or tried to dictate every aspect of my life since Father died. What I wear, who I associate with, the subjects I take at school. It’s suffocating.”
“Why does he do it?” Edward confused her. Sometimes he was the man that William described; other times, he was someone completely different. Perhaps his brother had an explanation for the dual personalities.
Will leaned over to the table that sat between their chairs and poured himself another drink. He drank a lot. Fiona hadn’t noticed it earlier, but now that she thought back, she couldn’t remember him without a drink in reaching distance.
“Brother wants the family to be paragons of virtue. Reputation is all that matters to him. He’s just like our mother. The family name is worth more than the actual family.”
“Will.” She gave him her very best mother hen look. “That’s nae true. You matter a great deal to him.”
William snorted. “I suppose that’s why he’s intent on pushing me into a career then.”
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked. “Careers can be more rewarding than days spent drinking and gambling. It could give you purpose.” Maybe that’s what Will needed. She could see why Edward was pushing him in that direction. No one could live such a frivolous life for long without devolving into a pickled-livered sluggard.
“Your career might be rewarding,” Will said. “It’s deuced interesting what you’re doing. I’ve got two options—the clergy or the military. He wants me to devote myself to God or die in a foreign country just so we can look the part. Well fuck that and fuck him. I’m happy with my life.”
The pain on Will’s face was so raw Fiona had to look away. That’s when she saw it. An Edward-sized shadow in the doorway. It was fleeting, but it had been there.
She knew down to her soul that there was more than one brother hurting right now.
***
“I’m not a monster.” Edward stood at the window of his study, staring out into the darkness. The light from behind him caught the rivulets of rain that tracked down the glass. He heard the door click shut but he didn’t turn around.
“I know,” she said.
“I love him.” Edward’s voice cracked as he said the words. From the moment William had been born, Ed had loved him. He’d spent his entire life working to protect him—first from the fallout of his father’s misdeeds and then from himself. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his brother, and yet Will couldn’t see that.
She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek into his back.
“I know.”
His fingers curled around the window frame, his knuckles going white. “I’m not my mother. I care for him. I’mprotectinghim.”
She sighed, her chest rising and falling against his coat. “I ken ye believe so,” she murmured.
He stiffened in her arms and then pulled away. She had no idea what they had been through. Had no idea how cruel society could be. “He was too young,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “He didn’t experience what I did. If he had, he’d know the danger of not living squarely between the lines.”
