The Countess Conspiracy (Brothers Sinister 3)

White wigs bowed together in a hushed conference.

When they broke apart, the one in the middle banged his gavel sharply. “This court will adjourn until the morning,” he said, “in order to determine which body this matter must be brought before.” He looked over at Violet. “Your ladyship, I trust that we can be assured of your presence on the morrow?”

“Of course.” Violet held her head high. “I shall be here.”

“Then so shall we. Court is adjourned until tomorrow at nine in the morning.”

“I CAN’T LET THIS HAPPEN.” Sebastian slid his hands into his pockets, feeling the comforting weight of the round glass ball there. It had been only a few hours since Violet’s lecture had ended in disaster, and that thought had echoed in his head ever since. “I can’t let this happen to you.”

Violet stood in her greenhouse, the moonlight spilling over her plants, kissing her face with a pale, shimmering light.

“I don’t see how we have any choice.” She folded her arms and looked away. “Robert and Oliver are arguing law. Mama has arranged for legal counsel. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow. How can we prevent an unknown?”

She was so utterly calm, like an oak standing in stillness. Not a leaf rustled. He didn’t know how she could be so quiet, rooted as she was at the center of a maelstrom. He had no idea what to say to her, how to comfort her. He only knew that he had to make things right.

Her arms slid around herself.

God. He should have been the one to keep her safe. He should have told her what it would mean to take his place. If he’d been more circumspect in his lectures, less antagonizing, they might not be here. If he’d given that talk himself. The world was on fire with ifs, and they all pointed to the same thing. It was his fault, and he couldn’t let this happen.

She turned to him, but instead of accusation, her face was ablaze with light. “I know I should be worried,” she said, “but oh my God, Sebastian, did you see me? Did you see me?” She let out a delighted laugh.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Yes.” He slid his hands around her shoulders, drawing her close to him. “Yes. You were amazing.”

It was so easy to bend his head to hers, to feel the softness of lips he didn’t deserve to kiss, to hold on as tightly as he dared lest she slip from his grasp.

“But we have to think about tomorrow,” he told her.

“Mmm.” She shrugged. “I have to admit, I can’t quite believe that tomorrow can possibly come. This entire evening feels like a strange dream happening to someone else.”

“How odd.” Sebastian leaned down and brushed his lips against her forehead. “It feels like a strange dream to me.” He reached out and took her face in his hands. “One that is happening to someone else, when it should be happening to me.”

“It is rather ridiculous.”

“No.” He took a deep breath. “Violet, listen to me. It’s my fault this has happened. I antagonized those who’ve opposed what I was saying. Is it any wonder that they’ve finally responded? They don’t want to hurt you. Only me.”

Violet frowned, turning away from him. “Even if that’s true,” she said, “that’s only because they think you’re me. That’s a circle that keeps turning, Sebastian.”

“If you’d been the one delivering lectures, you would have managed to be a little more circumspect.”

“Maybe.” Violet shrugged. “Probably not. You’ve always been a dab hand at turning aside criticism with laughter. I saw what you did with that barrel today. It was brilliant. I don’t think one of them understood that pointed little comment you made about feeding the poor like good Christians.” She snickered.

“Violet.” He took her hands, pressed them between his. “Take this seriously. They will send you to prison. They’ll do it to silence you, to silence me. I can’t let that happen to you.”

Silence pressed all around them in the darkness, and suddenly she was that dark, still oak once more.

“Oh?”

“There’s something I don’t talk about much,” Sebastian said. “Something…well. Do you remember when my sister Catherine passed away?”

“Thrown by a horse,” Violet said.

“Yes. Well.” He took a deep breath. “I was the last one to see her. I was up in the hayloft examining a litter of kittens when she came into the stables. She was in tears, over what I don’t know. I sat up there watching her cry, thinking to myself that if I showed her the kittens, she would cheer up and smile.”

“Sebastian, you must have been five years old at the time.”

He shrugged. “I decided not to say anything for the most foolish of reasons: I was too occupied to climb down the ladder. If I called out to her, I would startle the mother. And they were just tears, after all. So I kept quiet and watched her go.”

“You cannot blame yourself.”

Blame? It was nothing so simple. He shook his head. “No, not that. But she was distraught and not watching what she was doing, not paying attention. If she’d been paying attention…”

“It was a terrible accident,” Violet told him. “You had no way of knowing what would happen. And even if you’d spoken up, it still might have gone the same way.”

“Maybe.” Sebastian turned away. “But then, maybe not. All I could think when I heard was, next time, show her the kittens.” He took a deep breath. “And so I suppose that’s what I have done ever since. If I can make people laugh, I do. I don’t like watching anyone walk away from me unhappy. It makes me feel all wrong. But if I can make someone smile, I will.”

She made a noise of protest, but he set his fingers on her lips.

“It bothers me,” he said, “to see one person frown if I can change that around. Violet, how do you think I will feel if you’re charged tomorrow? If you’re sentenced to a term of prison?”

“I doubt it will come to that,” Violet said. “The lawyers say that peeresses, so long as they remain unmarried after their husband’s death, cannot be charged with felonies except in the House of Lords.”

“The lawyers,” Sebastian said grimly, “also said they can still charge you with a misdemeanor.”

She was silent for a longer moment. “Well, if they do, there’s nothing I can do except respond to the charges, is there?”