Oliver blinked.“Pardon?”
“Idon’t want to study the occult.” Swallowing, he said softly, “Iwanted money.”
“Ibeg your pardon?”
He shifteduncomfortably. “I knew you wouldn’t give me funds outright, not ifI told you what they were really for, so...I lied.”
“Youlied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Stomachchurning, he met his brother’s gaze. “It’s workedbefore.”
Oliver stared athim. The clock ticked on the mantle, loud in the silence of thestudy.
His brother tooka slow, steadying breath. “I see. So what was your plan to securefunds...” Stephen saw the moment comprehension dawned. “You wouldfeign interest in a plan even an idiot would know was doomed tofailure. Once I’d refused to release your funds, you would wait afew weeks and then apply again, this time with a much morereasonable request.”
“Andyou would agree.”
Oliver nodded.“What did you want it for this time?”
His brother wascalm. Too calm. His gaze was steady, his face composed. It would beso much better if he yelled. “I wanted to start a footballteam.”
“Afootball team.”
“Forworkhouse children. It was to have been a charitable foundation toimprove their circumstances. We thought to encourage them to attendthe parish school with a certain degree of attendance, have it as arequirement to play in the competition— I wanted to help. I do nothave many skills, but I know football and—” Bloody hell, he wasrambling. “I wanted money for a football team.”
“So,you lied so you could start a charity.”
“Yes, Oliver. I lied to start a charity.”
Eyes hard,Oliver rubbed his chin. “Did you not think to talk to me aboutthis? Did you not think I would not want to help? Christ, Stephen,if not because you’re my brother, but because it would be thedecent thing to do?”
“Youhave never helped before,” he said resentfully.
Disbelief writOliver’s face. “It isallI do.”
“Notwithout a goddamn argument!” he shouted. Composing himself, hecontinued intensely, “You never support me. You don’t believe Ihave any idea how to handle finances or what might be best for me.Christ. Is it any wonder you won’t believe Lydiaeither?”
“Donot bring her into this,” Oliver said dangerously.
“Whynot? You behave in the exact same way with both of us.”
“Lydia didn’t attempt to extortmoneyfromme.”
“No.She just wanted your heart, but you won’t allow her, will you?You’d rather play us all, puppets tangled in your strings, beggingfor scraps.”
“Don’t presume you know my mind, brother,” Oliver said,sounding exactly like their father.
Stephen snappedstraight. “Yes. Of course. My lord,” he said coldly.
Oliver openedhis mouth to respond, but before he could, the door to the studyopened. Irritated, Stephen jerked his head around.
Standing there,with his hand in Alexandra Torrence’s, was Maxim.
He blinked. No.It couldn’t be. His younger brother was dead. Maxim had beenfifteen and died at sea. Maxim was dead.
