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He’d never seen Richard appear so dejected. As well he might. Treason had few punishments, all of them dreadful, and generally applied to the treasonous person’s whole family. Richard wouldn’t simply ruin himself. He’d ruin Samuel and their mother, too.
“What will you do? Does anyone know you took the journal?”
“No, and we can hope they don’t find out.”
Samuel nodded, the motion jerky and slow. He shouldn’t tell, should he? No. He couldn’t. It wasn’t as if Richard had meant to betray England. He was a fool, yes, but a traitor, no. Samuel didn’t want to see his brother hung over an act of stupidity. He certainly didn’t want to see their holdings stripped and his mother cast out of society.
Richard cleared his throat.
“But if they ever figure out it was Yvette, they’ll trace it back to the Carmichael name.”
The fear roiling Samuel’s gut intensified. “What?”
“Yvette’s townhome. The account that pays for it is in the family name.”
Samuel nodded, well versed in their family books. Richard’s funds came from one of the accounts their father had set up. One of the few Samuel hadn’t closed since taking over the books.
“It’s under father’s name.”
Richard offered a hard grin. “They’ll know he didn’t take it.”
“Right.” Their father died three years ago. “We could close the account.” Which wouldn’t fool anyone and would only make Richard appear more guilty. “Can you write to her and ask for the journal back?”
“Write to her where? ‘Yvette, Paris, France… or thereabouts’? I don’t even know for certain that she left English soil. Only that at least one page from the journal has.”
Samuel scrubbed his fingers over the tension in his forehead. “There must be something to do.”
“We wait. This may not come back on us.”
Samuel’s hand stilled. “Us?”
“I’m about to start a life. To take my place as the proper head of this family.” Richard threw up his hand, as dramatic as one of his French actresses. “This whole mess began because I decided this is the Season I will come into my own. Shoulder the mantle of responsibility. Take charge of the Carmichael line.”
“And you think a judge will be sympathetic to that?” Samuel asked, unable to keep sarcasm from his tone. “We’re talking about treason, Richard.”
“Keep your voice down,” Richard snapped, glancing over his shoulder at the open office door.
Samuel winced. He’d forgotten the staff.
“No, I do not think a judge will be sympathetic,” Richard continued. “But I do believe that, in view of your youth, inexperience and good reputation, I can persuade them that no treason was intended or involved, and to simply transport you. No judge would want to see you hang.”
“Me?” Samuel’s anger roared back to life. “That’s what this is about? You want me to take the blame for this?”
“You must. You’re the second son. The spare. This is your duty. Think of the family name. The Carmichael reputation.” Richard lowered the timbre of his voice dramatically. “Think of Mother.”
“Go hang,” Samuel ground out between clenched teeth.
“You only have to take the blame if this scandal comes out.”
“I’m not going to Van Diemen's Land because you’re a fool.”
“You’d be going because it is your duty to this family,” Richard said stiffly. Across the elaborate pattern of the carpet, Samuel locked stares with his brother. “Your sacrifice for the family likely won’t even be needed,” Richard said quietly. “At least promise me you’ll think on it. On what’s best for the Carmichael name.”
“I’ll think on it.” Samuel would be hard pressed to think about anything else. “But I won’t change my answer.”
Richard issued a tight, mirthless grin. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Three
