Clio gave him a closed-lipped smile. It was quite frankly alarming. Whatever social finesse Clio had learned these pastfew years in Belgium… Aaron found he didn’t like it when she used it against him.
“I understand why it might be,” she said in a distressingly reasonable voice. Aaron felt the same way he’d felt when parlaying with men whom he’d been battling only moments before—and with whom he might battle again at any moment. As if the politeness was as fragile as spun glass.
“Of course,” Clio went on with that same delicately polite tone—was this how people felt talking to him? “You might have assumed I was likely to return, given that it’s Christmas.”
That felt like a trap. He made a noncommittal sound.
“Or,” Clio added, almost as if she was just thinking of it now, “perhaps you might have expected to see me sinceyou got married and didn’t tell me.”
On these last words, the ice disappeared in favor of fire. Controlled fire, yes, but fire, nevertheless.
Aaron had met Vice Admirals who were less intimidating.
Fortunately, Aaron was no shrinking midshipman.
“Ah,” he said. “You heard.”
He was not feeling quite as sanguine about this whole thing as he appeared. He hadn’t failed to write to Clio about his marriage due to some sort of oversight.
His sister was one of the few people in his life who truly mattered to him. He and Clio had been close when they’d been children, particularly as Peter, their elder brother, had been too busy with their parents, going about the business of being heir, to spend much time with his younger brother—let alone a sister.
Circumstances had driven a wedge between them as their parents’ disinterest had given way to orders. They’d commanded that Aaron go to Eton and excel. He’d done so. They’d sent him to Oxford with the order that he avoid scandal. He’d done that, too.
They had decreed that he would find some kind of purpose that would bring honor to the family; that would stop him from being an indolent, useless younger son. He’d joined the Navy, where he’d found that, unexpectedly, he was better at giving orders than following them.
But all of that had added up to years and years away from Clio, who had, in his absence, gone from the little girl who grinned a gap-toothed grin at him when he stole a jam tart for him to a polished young woman. It had created a gulf; one he didn’t think could ever be repaired.
And that was before he had come back from war irrevocably changed.
So, yes, he had sent her away. But it wasn’t because he didn’t love her—it was because hedid,and he didn’t want her tainted by everything he’d seen, everything he’d done.
The things he’d become.
He’d married for Clio’s sake, too, but it still was his marriage.
And he’d wanted it to be on steadier ground before he introduced his sister into the mix.
But there were too many years and too much time between them for him to clearly explain this to Clio.
So, all he said was, “The decision was made quickly.”
Something flickered behind Clio’s steely exterior, and Aaron couldn’t read it. He regretted that—the distance between them that meant he couldn’t find her feelings beneath the façade.
“You still didn’t write after it happened,” Clio said in a much less fierce voice. “I heard from Xander. Not you.”
Aaron knew that he was meant to apologize. He could see the route in front of him. He should apologize and then—this part, he admitted, was a little fuzzier—perhaps tell Clio he cared about her?
But there was a difference between knowing the way forward in battle and knowing what to do when he was faced with his little sister and the fear that he might hurt her.
So, he said, “Xander always has been very efficient as the head of the family,” even though he knew it was the absolute wrong thing to say.
Clio’s expression hardened.
“Indeed,” she said, and Aaron felt a pang at the disappointment there. “Right. Well. Where is your new wife? Will she object to my arrival? I could go stay with Xander or Catherine if my presence is a problem.”
Aaron hadn’t wanted Clio to come home, but he also found that he disliked the idea of her going to stay with someone else.Hewas her brother.Thiswas her home.
“Of course not,” he said. “You’ll stay here. And Phoebe… She’ll be glad to meet you.”
