Page 68 of Thief Taker

“It’s medicinal,” Elias said and moved to the sideboard. He took a moment while he pretended to study the various decanters and willed himself not to offer more comfort than a brandy.

Behind him Kit muttered something and, a moment later, crossed the room to the fire. Elias took his time pouring and by the time he’d finished, Kit was sitting down with his eyes closed and his head tipped back. He might have been sleeping if it wasn’t for the line of tension between his eyes and the way his fingers were drumming on the arms of the chair.

“Here,” Elias said, and nudged his hand with the glass.

Kit took it without opening his eyes. “You’d make a terrible butler, Cole.”

He laughed. “Aye, bloody awful.”

The slight smile that tilted Kit’s lips made Elias happier than it should, and there was nothing he could do to quash the fond feeling that welled up inside. “I’ve a feeling,” he said, to distract himself, “that Marlborough and Salter might share this collection of unpleasant friends.”

“I expect so.” Kit opened his eyes. And, God, but his soulful expression cut Elias to the quick. “James told me why Marlborough wants Ashbourne—he needs its two parliamentary seats to bolster the West India interest.”

“Because they’re afraid of reform,” Elias guessed. “Good. They should be afraid.”

“My brother’s afraid,” Kit said. “He’d never admit it, but he’s afraid to cross Marlborough.”

“He probably has reason to be.”

Kit nodded. “We both know he has a violent temper.”

There was a chair opposite Kit, but Elias wasn’t certain whether tumbling the man entitled him to sit in his presence. He remained standing. “So, this puts you in something of a position with regard to your brother, sir.”

“If I try to stop him—For God’s sake, Cole, sit down.” He gave an irritable wave at the chair and took a sip of his brandy. “If I stop him, then I put him in danger.”

Tentatively, Elias sat. The chairs were close enough that, sitting forward as he was, his knee almost touched Kit’s. He felt every inch of the space between them. “You could say he’s put his own life at risk,” he said quietly, “mixing himself up with Marlborough and his ilk. That was his choice.”

An emotion flickered over Kit’s face, gone before Elias could identify it. “My brother might disagree.”

“He might. Don’t mean he’s right.”

“He thinks—He blames me for this, Cole, for all of it.”

Elias snorted. “You forced him to the gaming tables, I suppose?”

“He feels I abandoned him…”

“How?”

“I—” He sat forward, both hands cupping the glass of brandy. If Elias kissed him now, he thought, he’d taste that fine brandy on his lips. “I had reason to leave the country,” Kit said quietly. “You can imagine why. And the truth is, I wasn’t sorry to go. I wanted to be free of this place and everything it denied me. But James… He never had that freedom. The Earl of Ashbourne’s heir can’t go gallivanting off to the colonies. So I…I left him behind. Not four months after he’d lost his wife and child.” His head sank forward, that crop of eminently touchable black hair close enough to kiss. “I left him with all of this on his shoulders.”

Elias clenched his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry for his grief, but your brother’s a grown man and he’s done what he’s done. Maybe he’s conscience-stricken now, but don’t you let him lay the blame at your door. You ain’t done nothing wrong.”

“Ha!” He fixed Elias with a challenging stare. “Haven’t I?”

“Well, you ain’t gamed away your family fortune and beggared yourself to a bastard like Marlborough, that’s for sure.”

Kit was silent for a long beat, staring down into his glass. “Don’t you see?” he said eventually. “If I’d stayed, I could have kept James away from Marlborough. I could have helped him in his grief, helped share the burdens he carried… But I didn’t. I wanted to go and so I…” He choked off and was silent.

For perhaps five rapid heartbeats Elias held himself in check, but then Kit’s shoulders gave a tremor, and he dashed a hand across his eyes. Elias was out of his chair and on his knees before he could think. “Listen to me,” he said, taking Kit’s hand and making him look up. “You ain’t your brother’s keeper, Kit. None of this is your fault.”

Miserably, he said, “I think you’re wrong.”

“I ain’t.”

Kit swayed forward, his forehead coming to rest against Elias’s shoulder, his hand tightening on Elias’s. “Christ…” he said, close enough that Elias could feel the words hot against his skin. “I wanted you with me today.”

Elias closed his eyes against the need in his voice, against its pull. “Sir…”