A roaringstarted in Stephen’s ears. He stared dumbly as his dead brotherwalked into the room, as he and Oliver spoke, as he clung toAlexandra Torrence’s hand. This man grown couldn’t be his brother.He couldn’t be. He couldn’t…
But it was. Itwas Maxim. Maxim grown into a man.
And he wasspeaking of their father.
“What did Father say?”
All three ofthem—Oliver, Alexandra and, god, Maxim—looked at him. Setting hisjaw, Stephen repeated, “What did Father say?”
Maxim glanced atAlexandra, who smiled reassuringly. “He said not to return. He saidmy shame was too great.”
“What shame?” Stephen asked.
Maxim shook hishead.
“What shame?” he pressed.
Oliver said,“Perhaps we should—”
“No,” Stephen said sharply. “What shame?”
“Stephen,” Oliver said. “Our brother has just returned. Howdoes this matter?”
“Itmatters!” Emotion—confusion, relief, shock,Bloody hell,Maxim wasn’t dead—erupted. “It bloody matters. Maximdied, Oliver. He died and now he’s back and—” He choked.Shoulders shaking, he turned away.
“Father said he would disown me,” Maxim answered. “Because Iwas sent down from Eton for cheating, but I didn’t cheat. I paidsomeone to write my assignments, but I dictated every word, and thereason I did that... The reason... I can’t...I can’tread.
“Youcanread,” Alexandra said fiercely.
“Butnot well,” he said softly. “Not well.”
He couldn’t sortit out in his head. Maxim couldn’t read? He had cheated atEton?
“Perhaps not, but we are seeking help,” Alexandra said.“George will know of a treatment, and if he doesn’t, he will knowsomeone who can.” She scowled. “Maxim isnotstupid.”
“Ofcourse not,” Oliver said.
Alexandra firmedher chin, her expression still fierce.
“This is why you and Father fought?” Oliver said.
Maxim nodded.“He said I should not return home. He said I should become aship-hand on a Roxwaithe ship, and so I did. I... It was abull-headed move.”
“Father was the bull-headed one,” Stephen saidsullenly.
“Hewas wrong,” Oliver ran a hand over his hair. “Father was wrong. Youshould never have been made to feel you should have left, and thatyou were ever not welcome when you returned. You need never beunsure of your welcome, Maxim. You are always welcome.” He shookhis head. “Maxim. You arealive.”
The corner ofhis younger brother’s lip twitched. “I am.”
Oliver startedto laugh. A smile stole across Maxim’s face and Alexandra beamed,looking between the three of them.
Stephen’s ownsmile felt forced. “I…have an appointment. I—” Unable to finish thesentence, he left.
He didn’tremember the passage from Oliver’s study but somehow he ended up inthe bedchamber that had once been his. Running a hand over hismouth, he stared at the furnishings that had replaced his bed, hisdresser, his wardrobe. He looked at the curtains that were not his,the muted green walls when he preferred blue, and the years thatseparated the time he’d last set foot in this room andnow.
The years whenMaxim had been alive.
Back against thewall, he sank to the floor. Maxim was alive. His brother wasalive.
