Kell stifled a sigh. “No man of honor raises a hand to a woman, Sean. You crossed the line. What is more, you lied to me about what happened between the two of you. Raven Kendrick never gave you her body as you claimed.”
Sean’s green eyes filled with anguish, but he remained mute.
“I’ve made excuses for you in the past because I understood how you suffered. And I realize how your experience during your impressment could drive you to want revenge. But what you did to Raven Kendrick was inexcusable.”
“Go to hell.”
“As long as you go to Ireland.”
Sean’s spine went rigid. “I don’t have to do what you say. You’re no brother of mine. Go play the fool with your scheming bride. And don’t complain to me when you are burned by her wiles.”
“You will leave London, Sean, even if I have to escort you myself.”
“You will have to carry me, then.”
“If I must.”
Setting his jaw, Kell turned away and let himself out of the house he had hated for years. His brother needed time to become accustomed to the shocking news of his marriage, but Sean’s accusations had hurt more than he would have thought possible.
How had events come to such a pass? Never in his darkest dreams would he ever have expected a woman to come between them. The last thing he’d wanted was to wound his brother by taking a bride Sean claimed to love. Yet he would still do it again, in order to protect his brother from himself.
For years now, Sean’s self-destructive tendencies had alarmed Kell, although he’d always felt compelled to make allowances. Having an innocent boyhood shattered by depravity was an agony that only the strongest souls could fully overcome. And Sean had never been very strong.
His path to torment had begun the day they’d lost their father to sudden illness, when Kell was fourteen and Sean nine. Their father’s unexpected death was a devastating blow, but Adam Lasseter was scarcely in the ground when their hated uncle exercised his powers of guardianship and banished their mother from their lives. Fiona had had no power or resources to fight the disdainful Lasseters-nor did Kell at the time. During his tearful farewells with his mother, he’d sworn faithfully to look after his younger brother.
A solemn responsibility at which he’d failed terribly.
Kell climbed wearily into his waiting carriage and settled back, his conscience aching, his own thoughts bitter as he remembered those grim years when he and Sean had been forced to live under his uncle’s roof. They had never seen their mother again, for she’d died in Ireland barely a year later, too destitute to afford the care that might have saved her from the influenza epidemic that had raced through the Dublin slums.
Kell’s hatred for William Lasseter had become irrevocable. Seething with defiance, he had let his loathing drive his every action-rebelling at every opportunity, earning himself countless beatings. Devil’s spawn, his uncle called him. They had argued intensely and often, and Kell even ran away once, taking Sean with him. But their uncle dragged them back home, severely punishing them both and threatening to make Sean suffer worse if Kell’s insubordination continued.
After that, he had tried to contain his smoldering hatred for his younger brother’s sake, biding his time, resolving to wait until he could reach his majority and gain the power to fight his uncle.
At seventeen, Kell had gone away to university, while Sean remained at home under William’s control, schooled by tutors. When Kell did come home for holidays and term recesses, Sean seemed withdrawn, despondent, but he denied anything was wrong… Out of shame, Kell finally learned to his revulsion.
He’d returned home for Christmas during his second year and discovered the sordid truth: that William Lasseter had an unnatural desire for thirteen-year-old boys.
Kell had planned to attend a worship service with his brother when he found Sean huddling before a roaring fire in his room, enveloped in a dozen blankets but trembling with cold.
“I c-cannot go to church, K-Kell,” he said, his teeth chattering. “N-not when I am so unclean.”
“What are you talking about, pup?” Kell asked teasingly. “Do you mean to say you haven’t bathed or washed behind your ears?”
The agony on Sean’s face was unmistakable. “No, I have bathed. But I cannot get clean. God help me… He made me do it, Kell. I couldn’t stop him.”
Sean had broken down in sobs then, and the tale gradually came out. For months he had been sodomized by their uncle William.
Remembering his sick horror even now, Kell rubbed his scarred cheek. He’d erupted in fury, threatening to kill William if he dared touch Sean again-
“Mr. Lasseter, sir?” a footman’s solemn voice asked, interrupting Kell’s dark thoughts.
His carriage had come to a halt before his gaming club, he realized.
Feeling almost ancient, his injured leg aching, he dismounted slowly and made his way up the front steps, where he was greeted at the door by his majordomo.
Timmons was too well-trained to ask about his master’s unexpected disappearance, but Kell responded to his quizzical regard with a terse explanation. “I had some matters that required my attention.”
“Very well, sir. Miss Walsh has managed in your absence. She has not yet risen, as she didn’t retire until the wee hours of the morning. A party of gentlemen commandeered the hazard table, playing for exceptionally high stakes.”