Stephen hadn’tseen his younger brother in over two months, not that he’d seen himmuch prior to that. Maxim and Oliver had been holed up in thestudy, going through the requirements of Maxim’s return from thedead and avoiding those who sought to fodder for their gossip.Roxegate had no shortage of visitors once word of Maxim’s returngot out, though all were turned away. Stephen wasn’t sure if thathad been a solid move or not. The lack of response leant weight tothe mystery, and there were no doubt dozens of rumours circulatingbased on nothing but supposition.
Less than a weekafter Maxim’s return, it had become clear Stephen could no longerreside at his lodgings. He’d resisted returning to Roxegate as longas he could, but when the other residents of his lodgings hadissued a thinly disguised threat for him to depart the premises dueto the constant bombardment of gawkers, he’d reluctantly packed atrunk and moved to his family’s townhouse. Once in residence, he’davoided Oliver as much as possible: taking his breakfast in hisroom; avoiding the study and its surrounds; making his way to thepitch to train with Franco and the lads as much as he could. He’dnot yet returned to the 1810 Club. He had no desire to hearSutton’s comments, or face pity from the others. Ash had tried tovisit a few times, but Stephen had refused his card. He didn’t wantto think on them. He didn’t want to think on them, then think onMaxim’s return, and then realise over again how Harbor neverwould.
As for hislittle brother, he’d barely seen him since his return, and neveralone. Maxim was like a ghost still, talked of in whispers and hislack of presence leaving a vacuum. Stephen saw him at dinner, whenthey awkwardly sat at the table to eat as quickly as possible andthen to retire to separate rooms. On the nights attended by theTorrences—each daughter affianced to his elder and youngerbrothers—conversation flowed, though he felt awkward and out ofplace. But then, he’d always felt awkward and out ofplace.
And now theywere here at Waithe Hall to celebrate Oliver and Lydia’smarriage.
Grey cat’s eyes,dark hair and a wicked smile flashed before him before he forcedher away.
Letting the ballfall to the floor, Stephen kicked it viciously and, exhalingharshly, he went to collect it. It had rolled to a stop under oneof the windows that lined the hall, any number of which he and hisbrothers had smashed over the years with footballs, cricket balls,croquet balls and, on one memorable occasion, a horseshoe. Perhapsit was not the wisest choice of venue, with windows lining one walland the portraits of their forebears the other, but the length hadproven irresistible to them as boys.
His gaze snaggedon a dent in the panelling beside the window. Oliver had smashed acricket ball off of Maxim’s bowl straight into the panelling,leaving a dent that remained to this day. One of the tables stillwobbled from when they’d used it as a football goal, Stephen havingclipped a leg with a stupendous bending strike that Oliver had hadno chance of defending. There might even still be drops of blood inthe carpet from Maxim’s split lip that had swelled to twice itssize, causing Lady Demartine to cluck and fuss when she’ddiscovered the injury. Lady Demartine had taken care of all theirbumps and bruises, their father abdicating the responsibility toreside most of each year in London. It was safe to say Stephen knewAlexandra and Lydia’s mother better than his own parent. A hundredmemories existed in this place, back before Maxim had disappeared,and the three of them were truly brothers.
“Stephen.”
He stiffened. Atthe other end of the hall, his younger brother stood with his armscrossed over his broad chest, his expression guarded. Would Harborhave looked like that, displayed that wariness, if he now stood inMaxim’s place? Something twinged in his chest, but ruthlessly hesuppressed it. “Maxim.”
His brother wasmuch changed since his return. It was probably always going tohappen, even if Maxim hadn’t gone through what he had in the lasteleven years: A shipwreck, memory loss, illness, destitution, harshlabour, and then finally a return to England. He was silent a greatdeal, and he spent most of his company in Alexandra’s, apart fromwhen Oliver required him.
“Ithought I would be the only one here,” Maxim said.
“Well,” he said. “You aren’t.”
“Ican see that.” Maxim’s hands tightened on his abnormally largebiceps. When had Maxim grown a broad chest? In Stephen’s memory,his brother was reed-thin, and he couldn’t reconcile this burly,towering man with the slight boy he remembered. “What are youdoing?”
“Water colours.”
Maxim glanced atthe football. “Clearly.” Moving closer, he continued, “Are youhiding, too?”
“No,” Stephen replied automatically.
“Sothe fact dozens of people are now occupying Waithe Hall doesn’t setyour teeth on edge?”
Stephen workedhis jaw. Maxim stared at him, as if he could see exactly how muchthe steady stream of people into Waithe Hall unnerved him. “Maybe,”he finally conceded.
“Itsetsmyteeth on edge. Alexandra is busy all the time withwedding preparation. I find myself at loose ends, and there are allthesepeoplestaring at me and whispering and—” Heshuddered.
“It’s to be expected,” Stephen said. “Youhavereturnedfrom the dead.”
Maxim grimaced.“This is almost more trouble than it’s worth. If it weren’t forAlexandra, I might have just cut my losses and run.”
“Oliver and I don’t factor into your decision?”
Maxim’s darkeyes—so like Stephen’s own—jerked up to meet his. “I didn’t mean itlike that. I—” He raked a hand through his hair. “Iapologise.”
Stephenshrugged. “No need. We’re practically strangers.”
Maxim laughedshortly. “Bloody hell, I remember that. You and your bloodycontrariness.”
“Well, pardon the hell out of me. I’m sorry we don’t know eachother. I’m sorry we’re practically strangers. It wouldn’t matteranyway. It seems the Farlisle men are doomed toestrangement.”
Brows drawing,Maxim cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“Isit Father? Is it how he always…He would stay in London, wouldn’the? And we would remain here. We never joined him…or did we?Sometimes, I misremember things.” He exhaled shakily. “Sometimes Idon’t remember at all.”
Stephen frowned.“I thought you had recovered your memories.”
