Page 98 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

He said nothing for a moment, and she shifted uncomfortably.

Why is he here? Jonathan never showed any interest in the orphanage before. This is my place. Why does it feel as though he’s intruding?

“What do you want, Jonathan?” she asked, more sharply than she’d intended.

He gave a wry smile. “So harsh. We were friends once, or have you forgotten?”

She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “No, I haven’t forgotten.”

“I’m here to apologize, Thalia.”

She paused, twisting Orange’s abandoned wool between her fingers. “What did you say?”

He shrugged. “What I said. I’m here to apologize. It’s clear that you aren’t happy in your marriage. I am the one who pushed you to marry, so I suppose it’s my fault you weren’t more careful with your choice. Augusta pointed out that you would likely have married anyone to avoid marrying Mr. Pembroke, and I suppose that she was right.”

Thalia stared at her brother for a long moment. She had imagined this moment over and over again. The confrontation, how she would shout at him, jab her finger in the air, and let him know just how much he’d hurt her. She had imagined him cringing, cowering, perhaps on the brink of tears.

It was a nice fantasy. It had helped her endure many awful parties and vile suitors. But now, looking at him, she felt nothing but exhaustion. Exhaustion and a little pity.

He looks so thin. So defeated.

“I know about the money, Jonathan,” she whispered. “I know that Father intended for me to receive a lump sum if I reached three-and-twenty unmarried. I know that’s why you were so keen for me to marry.”

She didn’t know what she’d expected. Excuses and denials, perhaps. But Jonathan only closed his eyes.

“I know that you know,” he murmured. “The… the solicitor, my father’s friend, visited today. He’d heard of your marriage and felt that he had to speak up. He didn’t speak to me, however. He spoke to Augusta.”

Thalia sucked in a breath. “What?”

He nodded tiredly. “She confronted me after. The look on her face, Thalia, it… I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Anger, disappointment, misery. She kept saying, ‘That wasn’t yours to take, Jonathan,’ as if I were a pickpocket. In her eyes, I suppose I must be. I remember all the excuses I made, how I would need the money while you would not because you’d marry a wealthy man. I thought of the things I could do and how I would put it to ‘better’ use. Perhaps that’s why I disliked your patronage of St. Sarah’s so much. After all”—he threw a tired, wry smile in her direction—“there are few more worthy things than patronizing an orphanage.”

She gave a tired smile in response. “It’s done, Jonathan.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand how I became this person. Really, I don’t. I’m sorry, Thalia. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Thalia clawed inside herself for the old anger, the resentment, the grudge. It wasn’t there. Just emptiness. She inched a little closer to him.

“I’m not angry,” she said.

“You should be.”

“I was very angry for a long time, but things have changed so quickly and so suddenly that I’m not sure I have the time or energy to be angry anymore.”

Jonathan drew in a breath. “You can have the money, Thalia. I’ve already decided. There’ll be no courts, no arguments. I will make sure that money is yours and goes to nobody else.”

“I’m not sure I care so much about the money anymore. It was never the money, you understand. It was the prospect of being free. Living alone.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

“And I took that from you,” he whispered.

She glanced up at his face, and her chest ached. His face had gone pale, his features twisted in misery.

My poor brother.

She reached out tentatively and placed her hand on his. He sniffled, tightening his grip around her fingers, and gave her a brief, tentative smile.

“Can you ever forgive me, Thalia? Can we ever be as we were?”

“I think we can, Jonathan. We can try, at least.”