“He said we should play hide and seek. Then he counted and left me there. He…thought I’d climbed out, you see. So he went looking and shut the hatch behind him.”
His voice was like stone. “He knew. You’re extremely intelligent, Annabelle, so don’t try to say you haven’t worked that out by now. Your brother was a bastard. Admit it.”
She blinked. “He told Miss Jenkins he couldn’t find me,” she hedged.
He barked a mirthless laugh. “You don’t believe that any more than I do, and I’ll bet my last farthing Miss Jenkins didn’t either.And what happened to him as a result of what he did to you? Did he receive any punishment at all? Any comeuppance?”
She shook her head. “It was an accident.”
He said nothing.
“Miss Jenkins, once she realized I was gone, went looking for me and eventually found me. I…oh, how I loved her,” she choked. “She was the most wonderful governess. Sweet and kind, though not at all pretty, but I didn’t care, and she was not fooled by Gaston’s antics. Nor did she take orders from him, though he loved to issue them.
“I believe she spoke to him about what happened. And my parents.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek. Silly, after all this time. She swiped it away.
“But nothing happened as a result.”
Oh, something had happened, all right. “She was discharged soon after we returned to London. Mother said…Mother said she tried to…tempt Father.”
He said nothing.
She looked at him, half-accusing. “What? What are you thinking?” she demanded. “Say it.”
He gave her a pitying look, then, without warning, rolled onto her, pinning her beneath him. “I think you know what I think. Of your brother, of your parents—and it’s got nothing to do with the color of their blood. It never had.”
She stared up at him, insides tangled in knots.
“What else did your brother do to you, Annabelle? I know there’s got to be more.”
She didn’t want to recount the many cruelties. Didn’t want to speak the words. He was her brother, and now he was dead. And she was a terrible, ungrateful daughter.
“Did he put his hands on you? Did he—”
“No,” she blurted. “No, nothing like that. He just, he could be…he had a temper. Unpredictable and, when it was set off, hehad a particular skill at wielding words that cut to the quick. Sometimes he’d break things. Sometimes, he…I’m not certain, but…”
“What? Tell me.”
“When he was older, in his teens, I think he might have taken some of his aggressions out on the maids. After a time, Mother saw to it only footmen ventured into his rooms.”
“Hm.” The sound came out as a low growl.
“When I learned of his betrothal to Caroline, I admit I worried, at first. I’d met her, and she seemed…gentle and sweet, and he was always drawn to that sort, whether in a servant or a friend or a sweetheart. But…in my experience, he inevitably seemed to delight in killing that softness off in them.
“I thought, with her, he seemed different. Only later, I started hearing that old edge creep into his voice. Like when I overheard them talking about you.”
“Were you looking out for her that day, Annabelle?” he asked.
She met his gaze, wanting to lie, wanting him to believe well of her. But she couldn’t do it. “I heard your name. That was all it took to make my ears perk up.”
He lowered his forehead to hers. “How did I get so lucky?”
Tears burned the backs of her eyelids at the unmerited tenderness in his voice, at the lack of censure.I love you.
She did. She loved him beyond measure. Beyond anything she could ever have conceived.
“I tell you, if your brother wasn’t dead, I’d kill him again. I can hardly stomach thinking of what you must’ve suffered growing up with that monster for a brother.”
“Again?”
