The Virgin's Spy (Tudor Legacy #2)(27)

It is a state of affairs that cannot continue. But for once, I am at a loss. Stephen has always been the self-sufficient one, even more so than Lucie. He is the most polite, well-bred young man, but he has very clear walls that he does not invite anyone to cross. Especially not his little sister.

I think it has shocked Kit to find that Stephen is vulnerable. I can see him trying to reorder his world in light of that fact, and in the end I think he will be better for it.

I miss you.

Pippa





The very day after being carried unconscious into Kilkenny Castle, Stephen had risen from his bed and demanded to begin planning his return to England. When Kit’s protests achieved nothing, Tom Butler had stepped in to reason with his fellow—if much younger—earl, but even he had gotten nowhere fast. Kit could see that his brother’s mind was made up. Damn my injuries, Stephen seemed to shout with every grim line of his body. So Kit acquiesced in making plans to get the bodies of Harrington and Stephen’s men home as soon as possible.

They sailed from Waterford. Kit left behind his written resignation for Ormond to give Brandon Dudley in case Brandon returned to Ireland before they could cross paths in England. Then, with Stephen’s sergeant, he set everything in motion and reported almost each hour to his brother. It was a situation he had long feared, never wanting to be officially subordinate to the older brother he simultaneously admired and envied. But Stephen hardly seemed to even know him. They might as well have been strangers.

Only once did Kit try to break Stephen’s silence about the ambush. “Were there any identifying features of the attackers you could make out? It would help Ormond track them down.”

“Gallowglass,” Stephen said abruptly. “I’ve told Ormond as much. If he can find which lord paid this particular mercenary force, more power to him.”

Encouraged by this slight responsiveness, Kit pressed, “Sergeant Lewis says you had mounted the women and boys because you were uneasy while crossing Munster. Did you have any sense that this might be coming?”

That was when Stephen turned on him a look more forbidding than even their father at his fiercest. “When you have spent weeks in hostile territory outside the luxury of castle walls, then you can ask me what mistakes I made in the field. Until then, I owe you nothing.”

It had been a relief to reach Bristol and pass over responsibility for Stephen to their father. And an even greater relief to return to Wynfield Mote and the sympathy of his mother and sisters. Surely Stephen would talk to one of them.

The day after their return they laid Harrington to rest. Dressed in black, the entire household followed behind the Courtenay banners that preceded Harrington’s coffin. Carrie wept a little at the graveside, as she and Matthew tossed in sprigs of rosemary for remembrance. But otherwise she was composed and gracious, taking care to speak to all at the funeral feast afterward.

At dawn the following day, Stephen left Wynfield Mote. Despite his mother’s entreaties and physician’s warnings, he insisted on setting off for his Somerset lands. Dominic went with him, though Kit thought his brother would have flat-out refused their father’s presence if possible. But force of will alone could only lend so much strength. Probably Stephen was husbanding what he had in order to cope.

Probably Stephen was also running away. At first Kit instinctively rejected the thought. Stephen was the good brother, the one who did everything right. On the face of it, returning to Somerset while still badly injured argued an honourable care for his men and his own responsibility as a landowner. But there was a skittishness to Stephen’s behaviour—an edginess around everyone—that forced Kit to realize his brother may not be as perfect as he’d thought.

Being who she was, Pippa insisted on talking about it as they rode out the next day to visit Lucette. Compton Wynyates, Lucette and Julien’s manor house, was less than fifteen miles away across gentle farming country. When they had left Stratford-upon-Avon and its people behind, Pippa launched into questions.

“What is wrong with Stephen?” she demanded.

“You know as much I do, Pippa. I would have thought more, considering your talents.”

She ignored Kit’s hint at her intuitive abilities. “Of course you know more than I do, you were in Ireland with him.”

“And he was just like he was at home! Wouldn’t talk about it, all I know is what his men told me about the attack. I can see it, in a way. Stephen’s always been the golden child. He was going to have to fail at some point. But this failure? To come through a battle with all of his men intact and then to lose them unexpectedly? To lose Harrington?” Kit broke off. They were all missing the big man, who had been as much a part of their childhood as anyone.

Kit went on bitterly, “Stephen doesn’t know how to cope with failure. He should have asked me! At least he has somewhere to retreat to. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. Do you want to tell me?”

Pippa turned on him sharply. “How long are you going to continue drifting through your life waiting for whatever wind takes you? I am not your personal star-teller, Kit. What do you want from me? You are young and rich and healthy. You can go anywhere and do anything. So do it.”

Never in his life had his twin so thoroughly shot him down. They rode in uncomfortable silence for a long time, while Kit tried to distract himself with counting sheep. It was an impossible job, for they were everywhere, white shadows merging and blending against the green turf and those hardy flowers still blooming into this first week of October.