The Countess Conspiracy (Brothers Sinister 3)

“Oh, no,” Benedict said. “I know that look on your face. You’re coming up with a plan. A Sebastian-like plan. I know how you operate. You’re going to come to me and tell me you’ve gone into trade, when we both know it will be some sort of trick.”

“No tricks,” Sebastian said, already distracted by thoughts of what he would have to do. “No cheating.”

His brother snorted. “Neither of us needs more money, Sebastian. I don’t want you to engage in speculation. The last thing I need to worry about on top of everything else is my brother’s solvency.”

“There will be no need to worry.” Sebastian smiled at his brother. “I promise I won’t risk any more than four or five thousand pounds, which I can well afford to lose. But I meant what I said. I’m done with my work as a scientist. And…” He looked up, meeting Benedict’s eyes. “And you are important to me. You’re right; it’s not about the money. It’s about having something we can talk about.”

His brother took a step back. “My God, Sebastian. I almost think you’re serious. When are you ever serious?”

“I’m serious about you,” Sebastian said. “You’re the only family I have left. Harry is…he’s the closest thing I have to my own child.”

“It’s hard to take in. You’re never serious about anything.” His brother considered his words. And then—because Benedict was perfect, and he didn’t believe in exaggerations, he added, “Except Violet.”

Violet. God, thoughts of her felt like the memory of a missing limb.

Another man might have seen Violet’s eyes at their last meeting—so calm and collected—and thought her unaffected. Sebastian thought about her hands. She always showed her emotion in her hands. Her hands had been clenched tight, wringing together in an anguish that had not come out on her face. He felt sick, thinking of what he’d said to her.

I have standards, and you don’t meet them. Truth, but truth twisted to sting. Just because she pretended not to have feelings didn’t mean he could outrage them at will.

“More serious,” he said. “You know Violet and her interest in botany. She’s never missed one of my lectures. It’s the only thing she respects me for.” That, he was afraid, was the bitter truth. “I gave that up, but I’m not surrendering you.”

His brother looked at him. “That means a lot to me, Sebastian.”

It was a start. After five years of growing distance, Sebastian finally had a start that he could improve upon. His brother smiled at him; the moment grew almost uncomfortable,

Before it could stretch into awkwardness, the stable door burst open.

“Uncle Sebastian!” A blur of child rushed into the stable. “Uncle Sebastian! What did you bring me?”

“Bring you?” Sebastian said, carefully refusing to look in his brother’s direction. “Harry, why would you think I had brought you anything?”

“Oh, come now, Uncle Sebastian, don’t tease—”

Harry stopped abruptly, seeing his father in the shadows. “Oh, Papa,” he said, suddenly subdued. “I didn’t see you there.”

Benedict’s eyebrow rose. “Spoiling my child, are you, Sebastian? Didn’t see fit to mention that earlier, did you?”

“Would I spoil Harry?” It was important not to sound too innocent, or Benedict would know he was lying. He was just congratulating himself on hitting the proper note when his brother held out his hand.

“Give me the horehound and nobody gets hurt.”

With a grimace, Sebastian withdrew a packet of sweets from his coat pocket and handed it to his brother.

“That thing we were talking about?” Benedict said. “That thing you wanted? Exercise a little discipline. He’s a boy, not a puppy, and I don’t want him spoiled.”

“Aw, Papa.” Harry glanced from one adult to another. “Wait, what did Uncle Sebastian want? Was it about me? Is he going to take me on that fishing trip he mentioned last time he was here? Is he?”

“You may have a single sweet after dinner,” Benedict said firmly, juggling the packet Sebastian had relinquished. “If you’ve been good.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry bit his lip. “But what other thing were you talking about?”

“Being good means you don’t ask questions,” Benedict said.

That seemed like a really boring rule to Sebastian, but he held his tongue. If he had to field Harry’s incessant questions all day, he’d probably think differently.

Sebastian glanced at Harry. “Doesn’t he…” Doesn’t he know that you’re dying?

“No,” Benedict said easily. “I don’t believe in teaching a boy to ride a horse until he’s capable of comprehending the dangers.”

“Can I show Uncle Sebastian the owl’s nest?” Harry asked.

“Go ahead.” Benedict nodded to Sebastian. “But remember what we talked about, Sebastian. I’ll see you in the house.”

Sebastian followed his nephew out the swinging stable doors. All he had to do now was meet Benedict on his own ground. To show him that Sebastian was more than what he’d seen. And once that was accomplished…

He glanced down at Harry.

Once that was accomplished, he’d see what else followed.

“Are these fierce owls?” he asked his nephew as they exited the stable, trotting through the meadow. “Owls as large as dragons, with thick claws and razor-sharp beaks? Have we been sent by the queen to make them stand trial for their crimes?”

“Yes!” Harry agreed happily. “These are—” He stopped. “Oh, no. I can’t. That’s…that’s pretending, isn’t it? Father said I’m too old for that now.”

Another time, Sebastian would have pooh-poohed that concept. He would, in point of fact, have mentioned that he had an extra stick of candy in his coat pocket, and that only the finest owl hunters in the land received the Sweet Wand of Horehound as a reward when they vanquished a nest of the Poisonous Owls of Feathergloop.

But Benedict wouldn’t like it.

“Yes,” he said glumly, “it’s pretend. And if you say you’re too old for it…”

He looked down at his nephew’s head—at that dark cowlick that didn’t quite sit properly, leaving Harry’s hair sticking up no matter how much he swiped it down. Sebastian mussed it fiercely, until the brown strands stood out from his nephew’s head like a halo.