“What do you need?” she asked him as she took the empty glass.
“Food,” he grunted. “And brandy.”
Charlotte reached into her reticule and pulled out the banknote that she’d stuffed in there that morning. She handed it to Thomas. “Here,” she said. “Take this to somewhere nearby that sells a decent meal. And for goodness’ sake, make sure you get enough for you both.”
He grasped it and raced out of the room. “He’s a nice boy,” she said as the door snicked closed.
“They were all nice boys.” Will’s tone was leaden, burdened with a pain she didn’t know how to ease, his expression bleak. Not once, in all their years together, had she seen such a look on his face. They’d been as thick as thieves when they were younger—relying only on each other in the face of their bitter mother and Edward’s school term absences.
She had been there the day Will returned early from boarding school to confess he’d been expelled. She’d snuck into his rooms when their mother had whipped him for one of his pranks. She’d held his hand after that last terrible fight with Edward. Through it all, William’s fire had been momentarily dampened, but it hadn’t been quenched. This William, whose expression held no life in it, wasn’t someone she recognized.
“You’re certain that I can’t fetch Ned or Fi? They would love to see you. They’ve both missed you terribly.”
William jerked away from her. “Don’t interfere, Charlie. I will be the one to deal with Edward, to make him understand exactly what he did. This is not your problem to fix. You’re a damn busybody.”
She recoiled at the anger in his words. He’d never spoken to her like that. Not once. Even when she’d been a frustrating, annoying little brat who had followed him everywhere, even to bed when her nursemaid had the night off.
His outburst stung, but all injured animals lashed out. As she turned away, not wanting him to see how his words had impacted her, her gaze fell to the table pushed up against the wall. To the half-empty brandy bottle on it. The doctor had given strict instructions not to mix alcohol with the painkillers he’d prescribed. Clearly, those instructions were being ignored.
Dash it, Will. He’d always had a drink in his hand before the war, but she’d thought he’d have had more sense than to drink now. Injury or not, he was about to hear exactly what she thought of his stupidity.
But when she turned around, brandy bottle in hand, he was staring up at the ceiling, tears in his eyes, hands twisted in the sheets.
“Will?”
He turned to her, a tear dripping from his cheek to the pillow. “Did he dispose of my things when he threw me out?”
She put the brandy back on the table and crossed to him, squeezing his hand in hers. “No. Ned did everything he could to bring you home. The general…he was militant in his adherence to your commission contract. But your things are as they were before you left. Rest easy, brother.”
Will gripped her hand painfully. “Mr. Bighead?”
“Is safe on the foot of my bed.” Charlotte had no memory of their father, but Will did. The patchwork doll had been the last gift the previous Lord Wildeforde had given his son.
She dropped a kiss on Will’s forehead. “I’ll fetch him for you. I’ll be back shortly. I love you, brother.”
He didn’t respond and as she closed the door to his apartment, a tear spilled down her cheek. He was hurting, and she had no idea what to do. How could she, a woman who had faced little hardship, soothe away the wounds of war when she had no true understanding of what he’d faced? And she never would, not unless she could convince him to talk to her.
“M’lady?”
She brushed the tear away and faced the woman who was approaching. She was an older woman in a clean, serviceable gown, who sported a no-nonsense expression.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
“Ye ken the captain?”
“He’s my brother. You are?”
The woman’s hands bunched her skirts. “I manage the building. I’m sorry, m’lady, but yer brother cannae stay. The other tenants cannae handle the screaming.”
Charlotte swallowed. “The screaming?”
“Every night. I feel for the lad, I do. But I have a business to run and I cannae charge full rent from tenants that cannae get a wink of sleep at night.”
Charlotte’s knees weakened. How much must he have suffered to be plagued with constant night terrors? He needed to be home, within the safe embrace of his family, however much he thought otherwise. “I simply need a little more time,” she said. “Just a few more days to convince him to return.”
The landlady was about to say no, Charlotte could tell, so she cast a hand into her reticule, looking for something to stave off the eviction. There was a handful of pins and that was all. She reached for the broach she would normally wear, but she’d hadn’t put it on before she left. Her eyes fell to the jeweled clasps on her shoes.
“Here,” she said, desperately. She crouched down and yanked the clips from the leather. They were amethysts, surely enough to earn a little grace. “What compensation do you need for him to stay the rest of the week? I’ll pay the neighbors’ rent if I must.”
