The Heiress Effect (Brothers Sinister #2)(36)

“No. If I’d had my choice of matters, I would have simply avoided you after that first awful night. I talked to you because Bradenton asked me to do it.”

She took a step back involuntarily. “Bradenton! What has he to do with any of this?”

“He thinks you need to know your place. He offered me a trade: his vote in Parliament, if I’d deliver a sharp lesson to you. I talked to you to figure out if I could do it.”

Her head spun. She should have known. This wasn’t real. That hand on hers, that look in his eye. None of it was real. He had been too nice, and she was—

She shook her head, dispelling those thoughts. “You wouldn’t be telling me of this if you intended to take him up on the offer.”

His lips compressed. Then he took her arm. “Walk with me,” he said.

There wasn’t much of anywhere to go—just a little circuit around the verandah. But when they got to the far edge, he stopped, gesturing for her to sit on a bench. He’d led her out of view of everyone else. He looked around and sat down next to her.

“There’s something you should know.” He wasn’t looking at her now; he was staring off into the night sky. “I tell myself the exact same thing you just said—that I would never do it. But there was a time. I was fifteen years old at Eton.” He leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t fit in. My brother and my cousin did their best, but when they were not present, I had to take care of myself. I did it, too. There were a handful of us who weren’t born to a grand position in society, and we made our way by banding together. Walking together. Working together. Offering such small encouragements to one another that would make the days bearable.”

“Did none of the adults stop what the other boys were doing?”

He turned and gave her a level glance. “Boys will be boys, Miss Fairfield, and generally speaking, the punishment we were subjected to wasn’t so awful. We were tripped, insulted, occasionally set upon. The sort of thing every boy experiences at school. We just had a larger dose. Enough so that we would know our places.”

For some reason, his mouth set into a harder line at that, and he didn’t speak for a minute.

“I had it a little easier than most. My father had been a pugilist, and the other boys learned to be wary of me. They wouldn’t take me on unless there were two or three of them at a time.”

She bit back a horrified gasp.

“It doesn’t matter how good you are at fisticuffs, though. At some point, you get tired of bruises.”

Jane reached out and took his hand. She’d been afraid he would push her away, but he didn’t.

“There was another boy. Joseph Clemons. He was small for his age and timid. He hid behind me every chance he got.” He sighed. “And you know what? I hated him. I tried not to. It wasn’t his fault he was set on so much. It wasn’t his fault that I’d stand up for him. It wasn’t his fault his father was a shoemaker, nor was it his fault that he was a brilliant Latin scholar, the likes of which the school had not seen in dozens of years. Still, I resented him so for causing me such difficulties. I just protected him out of…”

He shrugged. His hand clenched around hers. Out of some innate sense of fair play, she suspected.

“Out of spite,” he said. “One fight is nothing. Two fights are nothing. Three years of fighting makes you weary. One day, I came upon Clemons with two older boys. I was going to stop them, because that was what I did. But Bradenton was nearby. He said, ‘Marshall, all they want is for you to stop challenging them. Walk away and leave them alone.’” He looked up. “I think he could have given me any reason to walk away at that point and I would have taken it. I did.”

“I take it that Bradenton was wrong.”

“Oh, no,” Oliver said softly. “He was right. Those particular boys never came for me again. As for Clemons… I don’t know what they did to him, but when he left the infirmary, he never came back.”

She gasped.

“So, yes, Miss Fairfield.” He looked over at her now. “You might think you know who I am. What I’m willing to do. I tell myself all the time that I’m not that man. That I wouldn’t be so awful as to cause harm to someone else. But I know better.”

She dropped her gaze from his. “You can’t blame yourself for what the other boys did.”

“It wasn’t the only time.” His voice was harsh. “Anyone in my position, anyone born without power, who aspires to more… Trust me, I didn’t arrive here by standing on principle my entire life. I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut when it must be shut, to do what a man in power asks because he asks it. I count myself lucky that I’ve survived as unscathed as I have. Don’t fool yourself, Miss Fairfield. I could hurt you. Badly.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. But by the light in his eyes—that cold, serious gleam—he meant every word. His hand felt clammy in hers, but she squeezed it.

“And you are telling me this because…”

“Because I don’t think what is happening to you is right, Miss Fairfield.” His voice was tight. “Because no matter how many times I tell myself I would never do it, I cannot trust myself. The bait that is dangling before me is too tempting. I’m giving you a chance to run off before my ambition overwhelms my better judgment.”