The Hellion (Wicked Wallflowers #1)(90)

She nodded once. Because despite all her assurances to the contrary, her family was responsible for the very crime she’d so adamantly insisted against from the very start. Reggie stuck a kerchief under her nose, and Cleopatra took it and blew her nose noisily into the fabric. “I cannot marry a lord,” she looked to her sisters. “Not even for you.”

“Is that what you believe?” Gertrude demanded, hurt lending a tremor to her voice. “That we’d ever expect you to sacrifice your happiness . . . for us?”

“Happiness,” she echoed, a tear escaping from behind her lashes. She furiously swatted at it. There can be no future with Adair in it, and as such, there could be none of the happiness her sister spoke of.

When Gertrude made to speak, Reggie held a hand up. “May I speak to Cleo, alone?”

Gertrude and Ophelia hesitated, then reluctantly made their leave.

“They’re listening at the door,” Cleopatra whispered as soon as they’d gone.

Reggie settled into the chair beside Cleopatra’s bed. “Then we’ll have to speak more quietly.” She gathered Cleopatra’s hands and gave them a firm squeeze. “Your brother, as long as I have known him, has been relentless in whatever goal he’s set.” A wistful smile hovered on the crimson-haired woman’s lips. “If he wanted noblemen as patrons inside of the most dangerous hell in London, he merely decided on a number and that happened.” A little laugh bubbled past her lips, clear and bell-like. “I often said he could convince rain to cede control of the English sun over the sky.” Her smile dipped as a melancholy darkened her blue-green gaze. “I never knew there was a man such as him.”

Frowning, Cleopatra studied the other woman’s reaction, truly listening to Reggie. My God . . . “You care for him,” she blurted.

Crimson color chased away every last freckle on Reggie’s face. “What . . . ?” she squawked, slapping a hand to her chest. “No. I . . . you don’t . . .” She stammered. “You misunderstand what I was . . . am trying to say. Your brother . . .” Reggie scrunched her mouth up.

Her brother, whom Reggie very clearly had feelings for. Mayhap Cleopatra saw it now because her own heart had been so opened.

“Your brother cannot be deterred in any of his goals,” the other woman finally settled for. “He can convince a person to do anything and even get that person to believe they, in fact, were the owner of the decision.” She held her gaze. “But he cannot control Gertrude and he cannot control Ophelia.” She paused. “And he cannot control you. They will be all right. They’ll find love.” Just as I did . . .

“There cannot be love. Not with . . .” Her lower lip quivered, and she bit it to hide that tremble. “Not with everything that’s come.”

Reggie smoothed her palm over the top of Cleopatra’s head. “There’ll always be love. That won’t go away simply because of anything that’s come to pass or won’t or will. You love him,” she said simply. “And if he’s truly a man who’s deserving of your love, he’ll not hold you to blame for your brother’s crimes.”

The chamber door opened, and Broderick stepped inside.

Reggie instantly hopped up. “I’ll leave you to speak with your brother,” she said quietly.

Cleopatra carefully studied the other woman’s retreating back. She lingered, her gaze touching briefly on Broderick. Wordlessly, he stepped aside, allowing Reggie to take her leave. Her fool brother’s focus, however, remained fixed on Cleopatra.

Reggie shut the door, leaving them alone.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, coming over.

Like my heart is breaking and I’ll never be happy again. Was I truly happy before Adair? “How is Stephen?” she countered. Since she’d returned home, and the truth of his actions these past months had come to light, he’d carefully avoided Cleopatra. Instead, by her sisters’ accounts, he remained largely confined to his rooms, with a guard assigned him.

Broderick lingered at the doorway. “He’s afraid to see you.”

Conflict raged within. Had Stephen been born to a different station and a different lot, he would have been a child. But he’d been shaped by the ugliness of life, like all of them. “I’m his sister,” she finally said. Of all the people to fear, Cleopatra should be the last of them.

Silently, Broderick reached behind him, pressing the handle.

Shuffling back and forth on his feet, Stephen directed his gaze to the floor. And in this instance, he’d the look of the child he, in fact, was.

“Stephen,” she greeted in steady tones, wanting to rail at him, knowing it would accomplish nothing. No diatribe she rained down on him could ever restore all Adair had lost. And all I lost, as well . . .

Her youngest sibling reluctantly picked his head up.

Broderick motioned him forward, that single, wordless command as masterful on the always recalcitrant child as it was on all the most hardened thugs in the streets. Stephen came to a stop beside him.

“Why?” she implored. “Why would you do this?”

“I—I did not think you would b-be angry if you found out.” He spoke so faintly, Cleopatra leaned forward in a bid to hear. “They are the enemy.”

They are the enemy.

Cleopatra sank back.