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Chapter Forty-Six
“Gerard,” Thomas said slowly, “what is this?”
It felt a mockery of his earlier question, when he had been asking after his brother’s wellbeing, given the ransacked state of his—apparently flurried—packing.
Behind him, Gerard was silent for a long moment. “I am afraid there is no way to answer that question to your liking.”
“To my liking?” Thomas could feel rage building, but he squashed it down, desperate for there to be some other explanation “So…you found the ledger, then. Or recovered it. Or…or whatever has happened here. Why did you not tell me the moment I stepped foot through the front door?”
To Thomas utter shock, Gerard began to laugh.
It was a low thing at first, harsh and bitter, before it escalated into a half-crazed, desperate giggle. Thomas did not dare turn around. He did not want to see whatever twisted mockery of his brother’s face could house such an awful sound.
“You really are dense, you know that, Thomas?” Gerard said at last. “Or, no, that’s not quite right. Wanting to see the best in people is not the same as outright stupidity. You’re simply naïve.”
“What are you talking about, Gerard?” Thomas repeated, dumbly, but it was already too late. The thoughts were building…snowballing…coming together with a sudden awful intensity that left Thomas shaking at the knees.
Gerard’s hesitance to go over the books…his urgings of Thomas to stay away from Lady Evelina…saying the footman was a former employee of Alderleaf Manor…thefootman—
“Did you mean to have me killed?” Thomas blurted out, before Gerard could cultivate an answer. A darker possibility dawned. “Did you haveFatherkilled?”
“Your Father, not mine,” Gerard snapped.
Thomas felt the world go out of focus around him. Everything felt blurry, unreal, like he was gliding through a dream. “You knew about Mother, then,” Thomas said, far too calmly.
He had not turned around to face his brother since the truth had begun coming to light. But they were close enough, could sense each other’s movements and reactions with such familiarity, that Thomas couldfeelGerard’s surprise at Thomas’ own knowledge.
“Yes, I knew,” said Gerard. “I found out at the worst possible moment too—I’d lost a wager, you see, and in lieu of money, I bet a contract. It was going to cripple Father’s business plans with the blasted Duke of Alderleaf—you see where this is going, I hope?” He continued without waiting for an answer. “I came home, trying to figure out how on earth I was to break the news to Father, only to over hear him yelling at Mother in his study over some box of letters he found. ‘The bastard’s no son of mine!’ he said. And soeasily!Like it was n…nothing to him.”
At last, Thomas turned. Despite everything, he could not break the habit of responding to his young brother’s emotional state, especially when he was in pain.
Indeed, Gerard’s face was red, his eyes puffy. “Do you know what that’s like?” he accused. “After everything I did for him—foryou, while you gallivanted about the Far East on your travels—he resolved to cut me out of the will. Just like that. To disown me, publicly.” Gerard laughed that awful laugh again. “‘Well,’ I thought, ‘if he means to throw me out, I’ll do away with him first!’”
Thomas didn’t realize he was crying too until he spoke and tasted tears on his upper lip. “He was hurting. He didn’t mean any of that.”
Gerard scoffed. “Youwouldassume that, given the way you always idolized the man.”
“And you didn’t?” Thomas took a strong step forward. “Listen, Gerard. For all your talk of forethought and strategy, I never did anything so ugly with such rashness.” Gerard tried to protest, but Thomas pressed on. “When I found the letters, Mother came clean to me. She said that, yes, Father was upset—but he took everything he said back the very next day! Youarehis son…or would be, if he were still alive.”
The accusation hung thickly between them.
Gerard’s eyes had widened to the size of small saucers. It was a strange, uncanny look on him. Thomas’ brain tossed up an image of years and years ago, to the way Gerard had looked as a very small boy, when his eyes seemed to take up half of his face, staring in focused wonder at the world around him. The memory made Thomas want to be sick.
“I…don’t believe you,” Gerard said, but Thomas knew from the slight, barely audible shake to his voice that he was lying.
“Gerard,” Thomas said softly, his voice cracking as he dared to take another small step forward. “You are my Brother. No matter who your biological father is…not even with these awful things you have done. I am furious with you, but I love you. For that, it ismyselfI cannot forgive.”
Gerard was trembling. He took a step back as Thomas came closer, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I never wanted to hurt you, you know,” he said, voice small. “My grief wasn’t with you at all. But you kept digging into things…nothing I was saying could deter you…I felt I had no choice, Thomas, and it all just got so overwhelming. And then when I saw what those mercenaries had actuallydoneto you…”
Gerard tried to hide his face in his hands and went silent.
Thomas didn’t come closer, still desperately trying to wrap his head around everything. Gerard had been the one to orchestrate the attack on him. Gerard had tried toassassinatehim. Hehadassassinated Father. And he’d been lying about it…lying abouteverything…this whole time.
How was Thomas ever to truly believe his remorse?
“Would you have tried it again?” Thomas couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Made another attempt on my life?”
Gerard shook his head violently. “No. I couldn’t do it again. When you refused to leave, my plan was to flee from London myself. To make a run for it abroad and try to sustain myself there. Much as I am loath to admit it, I knew you would eventually figure it all out.” He smiled sadly, his eyes full of watery resignation. “And you did.”
Perhaps Thomas was as foolish and starry-eyed as Lady Evelina said. He could not help himself: he stepped forward and embraced his brother.
Gerard crumpled against him, and sobbed into Thomas’ shoulder.
It…can be all right, Thomas told himself, desperately trying to believe it.He seems remorseful…and this isGerard, after all. There is a lifetime of history, of camaraderie, oflovebetween us, before any of this awfulness took place. Surely, there must be a way to move forward?
But…Gerard wasn’t embracing him in return. No, Gerard was reaching behind himself, groping for something on the nightstand.
Thomas’ heart plummeted as he felt the cold barrel of a pistol against his side.
