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And the pup’s insufferableness was back.

Sebastian grinned. Rafe glared. Which only had the daft grin growing wider.

But then it faded away. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Is that not what you’ve been doing?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “What happened at dinner? Mother won’t speak to me about it, but I know she knows something. So much went unsaid. I could see you two sharing a conversation. And then…”

Then he ran.

Rafe said nothing, and Sebastian swallowed, his fingers fidgeting with his glass. But the pup had more ballocks than Rafe gave him credit for. “Something you’d said…almost made it sound like you were implying our father…” His gaze darted away, then back again. “You said he succeeded in replacing your mother,” Sebastian added in a whisper. “That he failed at replacing you.”

“There was nothing accidental about my mother’s death, Sebastian. I’m not sure how aware you are of how our father treated your mother, but if you are, that should tell you everything you need to know about what that man was capable of.” And murder was tame when it came to their father’s malevolence.

Sebastian frowned hard at his whisky, the muscles in his face twisting. “Yes. I’m aware.” He took another large gulp of his liquor, then met Rafe’s gaze again. “And you? He tried with you…?”

Rafe grinned, but it wasn’t anything anyone would call a smile. “I wear the mark of his attempt for all to see.”

His brother’s stare widened, eyes traveling over Rafe’s scar. “Oh,” he said wordlessly.

Rafe’s grin melted away. Because he and Grandmama had fled—they’d had to, or else his father would have made sure the next attempt didn’t fail—but in doing so, he’d left Abigail and Sebastian. He’d left them to suffer in his wake, at risk of succumbing to the same fate as his mother, the same fate his father had intended for him.

Damned if he did, dead if he didn’t.

“I was overjoyed the day he died,” Sebastian blurted. “I was nine, and I stole a bottle of port and got toss-pot drunk celebrating.”

Rafe blinked at Sebastian’s exclamation. And then a snort escaped him that morphed into a laugh. Sebastian beamed at him. And something shifted in Rafe’s chest. A tiny bit of tightness loosened.

“I always felt odd for it…but it was one of the happiest days of my life.”

“Me bloody too, brother. Me bloody too.”

23

Theo

A rhythmic rapping rang through Theo’s cottage, and she looked toward her entry. She knew that knock. But what did the little bugger want? She pushed back from her small desk in her living room and stretched her arms over her head as she walked over to her front door. She’d been hunched over the desk for much too long this morning—she glanced at the clock on her mantel and grimaced. This afternoon. It was half-past two.

She threw open the door, already turning back to the living room without sparing the visitor a glance. “Sebastian.”

“Theodora,” he sang.

“What do you need?” She settled into an armchair, tucking her feet beneath her.

Bash grinned at her as he flopped back onto her couch. “Can’t a man visit his favorite person?”

“Leo isn’t here.”

His eyes narrowed. “That was a cheap shot, Theo.”

She bit her lip against a smile. It really was, but she couldn’t help pulling his leg.

“So, I stumbled upon some interesting information this morning.”

“Did you now?”

He nodded, bouncing his blond brows.