The Countess Conspiracy (Brothers Sinister #3)(31)

“Nonsense.” She reached for an apple.

He took her left hand in his. She stopped entirely as he did so, her eyes looking up at him wide and unblinking. As if she expected him to do something more than touch her.

“Don’t worry, Violet,” he said, a little more sarcastically than he intended. “I’ll hold off on seducing you until tomorrow. I just want to prove a point.” He turned over her wrist and held up his hand. “See?” He slid three fingers between her cuff and her wrist. “This gown used to fit perfectly.” He rotated his fingers, demonstrating. “Look how much extra space there is now. You’re not eating.”

“No, I am,” she said with a frown. “I’m sure I am. I have dinner. And breakfast.” A larger frown. “Most days.”

“You’re not eating,” Sebastian said, “and you’re not even noticing that you’re not eating. Do I have to set your maid on you?”

“Won’t work,” Violet muttered. “Louisa’s too timid. That’s why I hired her.” She refused to look at him. “Damn it, Sebastian. Why do you have to be so…so…”

He waggled an eyebrow at her.

“So necessary?” she finished.

“Oh, Violet.” He grinned at her. “That was almost polite.”

She made a little noise. “A few weeks ago, I told you I wouldn’t even notice if you disappeared. The truth is, I’ve noticed. Every time I look up, I notice.” Her voice was soft. “Every time I notice, I feel awful. And every time I feel awful, I look away. You’re my…”

He leaned forward.

“My best friend,” she concluded. “And I hate you for it.”

They’d worked out a system of code over the years—sentences they used to hide their true meanings from the entire world. I hate you was not part of their code, but it felt like it: words that Violet used because she couldn’t bring herself to say what she really meant. It had not been lost on Sebastian that when Violet needed codes for I need you and come see me, she’d chosen phrases that bordered on rude.

“That’s so sweet,” he said gravely. “I hate you, too, Violet.”

She ducked her head, looking away from him. Hearing everything that he’d said in words that nobody but the two of them would ever understand.

“Now eat.”

She did.

“I wish my genius ran to making automatons,” he said. “I would invent one that would follow you around with a tray. It would wait patiently for you to look up from whatever you were doing, and as soon as you did, it would say, ‘Lady Cambury, you must have something to eat.’”

She swallowed her bite of apple. “That would be extremely annoying.”

“I do not consider that a detriment.”

“I consider it a waste of a good automaton. I would modify your invention,” she said, reaching for some cheese. “I’d dress my version up in my best silk and send it out to pay morning calls. Oh, how I hate making morning calls. It wouldn’t need much of a vocabulary. ‘Yes,’ my automaton would say, ‘this weather is dreadful, isn’t it?’ In fact, I think that’s how I would do it. Whatever the other person says, it would answer, ‘Yes, it most certainly is, isn’t it?’ My automaton would have perfect manners.”

“Yes,” Sebastian said, “it most certainly would, wouldn’t it?”

“I could be known far and wide for my affability,” Violet said. “I’ve never been known for my affability.”

“No,” Sebastian said. “You most certainly haven’t, have you?”

She looked up at him, her eyebrows rising, but she didn’t remark on his word choice. “And I would use my spare time to think about all the things I want to consider. Maybe this time I would hit on an area of research that you’d be willing to present.”

“No,” Sebastian said, more slowly this time. “You most likely wouldn’t, would you? It’s not the nature of the work, Violet, but the person who does it.”

She looked up at him. “Really? There’s nothing I could choose? No subject at all?”

You, Sebastian thought. You. Everything about you. “I told you earlier. I’m thinking about shipping.”

She made a face. “Ugh. Shipping. That sounds messy. A collection of general principles, true only in aggregate, which any person can flout with impunity just because he feels like it.”

“Yes,” he said mockingly, “it most certainly is awful, isn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “God, that is annoying. As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right. I need a cleverer automaton. This one will have me hurled bodily from the houses I visit.”

“No,” Sebastian said. “They’ll have your automaton hurled from the houses you visit—and think of the advantages.” He winked at her and leaned in, gesturing her closer.

She leaned forward.

“You’ll never have to visit those houses again,” he whispered.

She smiled. “God, don’t make me laugh, Sebastian.”

“Why not?”

“Because. You’re going to make me forget—make me comfortable—”

He smiled. “That is the entire point. Get your back up all you wish. Rage at me for hours. Feel uncomfortable. At the end of the day, I’ll still bring you apples and make you laugh.”