The Countess Conspiracy (Brothers Sinister #3)(48)

She let out a breath in the darkness. Lily. She would visit Lily tomorrow, and Lily would need her.

And oh, Violet needed to be needed. At the moment, she needed it more than anything.

Chapter Twelve

THE SUN WAS HIGH AND SEBASTIAN’S JOURNEY from London had been pleasant. He’d managed to bury all of Violet’s revelations deep in his heart. He hid them in the pleasant sun, in the too-humid air presaging some later storm.

It had been a week since he’d last seen his brother and not quite that long since he’d first met with the leadership of the Society for the Betterment of Respectable Trade in London. He couldn’t have hoped for a better response from them.

His brother, however…

He made his way through his brother’s house, led by the servants, and came into his brother’s study. He didn’t say a word. He just handed over the circular he’d brought with him.

He could hear the clock ticking seconds away. He didn’t dare count them; he didn’t want to know how long it would take Benedict to realize what he was reading.

His brother smoothed the page in front of him against the desk and shook his head. He seemed to move so slowly. Once again, he frowned and started reading for the third time.

Benedict’s lips twitched into a frown. His fingers tapped against the table, as if he could change the words if only he jarred the paper hard enough. He read through the end for a third time, and after his eyes had stopped moving down the page—long after—he simply stared at the paper.

Sebastian couldn’t breathe. Some part of him still felt like he was still a younger brother, dancing around the older, showing off some skill that the elder had perfected years before. Look, he wanted to say. Look what I did.

But it was more than that.

Look who I am.

All these years he’d let his brother tell him he was nothing, that the sum total of his accomplishments were the jokes he’d made, the wrath he’d incurred from respectable people outraged by his words.

But Benedict was wrong.

Finally his brother shut his eyes and shoved the paper away.

“Sebastian.” The word came out on a sad sigh, and he shook his head as he spoke. “How the hell did you manage this one?”

“Am I supposed to feel ashamed?” Sebastian asked in surprise. “I went to visit the Society in London. I talked with the leadership there. They were interested in my work on shipping, and even more interested to hear about the application of numerical methods to trade.”

His brother grimaced. “That much is obvious. But…”

The clock was still ticking, those seconds seeming to come faster and faster.

“You don’t need to have a but,” Sebastian said. “You can just leave it at ‘Well done, Sebastian, I’m looking forward to attending that meeting.’”

“Attending?” His brother’s nose wrinkled. “You think I’ll be in attendance? I made it clear to you that the Society was a respectable organization. And you think to prove something by dazzling their best minds with mathematical conjuring tricks?”

“God, Benedict,” Sebastian said. “That…”

Hurts, he might have said. But that simply word didn’t encompass the sting he felt, the ache deep inside. He’d wanted to bridge the gap between them. He’d hoped it was possible.

“That’s unfair.” He looked away. “I don’t think I could prove anything to you. You’ve made that perfectly clear. But I thought you would at least give me a chance.”

“A chance? A chance at what?”

Sebastian raised his chin. “A chance to prove that I’m your equal. That no matter how many missteps I’ve made, we can have something in common.”

Benedict set his jaw. “But you want more than that. I know how you operate. Of course you want me to approve of you. You thrive on bedazzling others, and it grates on you that you can’t fool me. You’re all spark and no substance. Look at this circular making the announcement. It’s utterly ridiculous. ‘In honor of our two-hundredth anniversary gala, we are pleased to present a series of lectures on the future of trade, given by the thinker of the century.’ Then they name you.” He let out a hearty chuckle. “Tell me, Sebastian. How is that not a joke?”

Sebastian’s stomach sank. “‘Thinker of the century’ is a little overwrought,” he said stiffly, “but if the most important, intelligent people in your Society think I have something worthwhile to say, couldn’t you consider the possibility?”

Benedict stood. “You forget. I understand you. They didn’t grow up with you. Every person who meets you today walks away with stars in his eyes, blinded by brilliant lights. But I’ve seen you all my life, and you can’t hide from me. Behind your jokes and your pleasant words and your flashing smiles, you’re nothing.”

Sebastian felt as if his brother had thrust a sword through his stomach.

“The rest of the world will give you all the accolades it has to offer. But someone has to remind you of the truth about yourself, and that person is me.” He pushed the circular back to Sebastian. “You want to know what I think of this? I think that my Society has made a mistake—a horrific, bleeding mistake—and when you’re finished wreaking your usual havoc, I will be left to clean up the damage.”