Everybody’s dreams had died last night, apparently.
This was when another chilling possibility occurred to him: Would he be evicted from Eden, aka The Grand Palace on the Thames? Certainly his transgression was dramatic enough. The rules allowed for it.
No worries: he was to have a cozy house in Devon, apparently.
The thought wrapped itself around him like leather straps.
He supposed, given the circumstances, he ought not be hungry.
But he was.
And so after a wash and valiant attempt at shaving steadily, he got into his clothes and went down to the dining room. It was empty, given that it was later than the usual breakfast hour. Helga had taken pity. Eggs and kippers and toasted bread, a little cold but he wasn’t fussy, were waiting for him. An entire pot of coffee had been left for him, sympathetically and reproachfully.
It might have been his imagination, but the building seemed hushed. Anticipatory.
It was possible everyone was avoiding him.
Or holding a meeting about him.
And then, sauntering through the foyer, came St. John, holding his coat over one arm and his hat in the other.
They paused to stare at each other.
There was something of his sister in the bones of his face. He had his father’s dark hair and his mother’s blue eyes and likely his sister’s knack for getting heads to pivot in his direction.
“Well, I suppose it’s a fortunate thing for youthat you’re bound to be a member of the family, Cassidy. Otherwise I should be obliged to challenge you to a duel.”
“Whereupon I would be obliged to kill you, St. John, and it would be a shame to lay waste to all those female hearts and all your... potential,” Hugh said politely.
St. John nodded politely in return. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up at the ceiling. Then back at Hugh. “I am quite fond of my sister. I don’t know why.”
It was perhaps about the last thing he expected St. John to say, and it was funny. Hugh might have said it about his own sister.
Hugh smiled faintly. “Good. She is... remarkable.” Which was only the truth he was comfortable with saying out loud to her brother.
And it was this thought that brought home the enormity of what he had done. What the two of them had done.
“If you make her unhappy, I will find a way to free her from you.”
A startling, rather ominous bit of gallantry. He issued a sort of half smile and damned if it wasn’t almost convincingly threatening.
But it made Hugh like him better. “I would expect nothing less.”
“I’m glad we’re understood. I think I might like having a brother, even if he’s an American.” St. John leaned forward confidingly and said on a sort of hushed, only partly feigned anguish, “Two sisters ishell.”
He moved on, Hugh staring after him. Then heturned and walked backward a few steps. “See you at the ball. And, oh—you’re going to need better clothes.”
And as he turned to watch St. John going out the door, a dulcet voice came to him from the little reception room. “Good morning, Mr. Cassidy. May we have a word?”
He closed his eyes briefly. Said a silent prayer for strength.
He was a brave man, and as he’d told his friends the night before, he was unafraid to face consequences.
But Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Durand were standing in the little reception room, their faces grave. A beautiful blonde and brunette tribunal.
He entered.
To his surprise, between them they were holding up a coat.
