“YOUR BROTHER?” ANGELINA was excited beyond all bearing. “And you didn’t know he was here, nor he you? How amazing!”
“Yes,” Bree said. “Yes … amazing.” In a daze, she extended a tentative hand toward him. William blinked once, grasped the hand, and bowed over it, kissing it lightly. The feel of his breath on her turpentine-chilled hand raised the hairs on her forearm, and she tightened her fingers on his. He straightened up but didn’t pull away; his fingers turned and covered hers.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said, and she could see—and feel—his eyes searching her face, just the way she was searching his.
“Oh, not at all,” she said, meaning quite the opposite. He caught that, smiled a little, and let go of her hand. “I—did you say that Lord John sent you?”
“Yes, he did, the conniving old sod. Er … begging your pardon, ma’am.” He took his gaze off her for a moment, turning toward the other gentleman. This was a tall, very broad young man of mixed blood, with a remarkable cap of close-cropped tight curls of a soft reddish brown.
“Allow me to present my friend, Mr. John Cinnamon,” William said. Angelina and Henrike curtsied immediately in a bloom of skirts. Mr. Cinnamon looked quite horrified, but after a quick glance at William, he bowed deeply and murmured, “Your most obedient servant … ma’am. And … er … ma’am.”
“Er … ma’am? Mrs. MacKenzie?” Lieutenant Hanson, quite eclipsed by William and Mr. Cinnamon, who were each a good foot taller than he was, struggled manfully to regain Brianna’s attention. “We must be going, ma’am, or we shan’t arrive in time for you to … er … do it.” He cleared his throat.
“And who are you, may I ask?” William was frowning at the lieutenant’s blue-and-buff uniform. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Bree cleared her own throat, loudly.
“Lieutenant Hanson came to fetch me for an urgent commission,” she said. “I—he’s right. We need to leave, as soon as I’ve packed my things and changed clothes. Told the children. Will you … come with me, back to my studio? We can talk while I put things together.”
BY UNSPOKEN CONSENSUS, William came alone, leaving his friend and Lieutenant Hanson to the tender mercies of Angelina and Henrike, who were already twittering about cakes, coffee, and perhaps slices of cold ham …
Brianna’s stomach gurgled at the thought of ham sandwiches, but she suppressed it for the moment and turned to William. My brother.
“I wanted to tell you,” she said at once, closing the door and standing with her back against it. “When we first met. Do you remember? On the quay in Wilmington. Roger—my husband—was with me, and Jem and Mandy. That was—I wanted you to meet them, see them, even if you didn’t know we were … yours.”
He looked away and put a hand on the table, touching the wood only with his fingertips. She felt the solid door against her shoulder blades and understood the need of physical support.
“Mine?” he said softly, looking down at the scatter of papers and brushes on the table.
“I should probably say something polite about ‘only if you want us,’” she said. “But it’s—”
“A bit late for that,” he finished, and looked up at her, his eyes wary but direct. “To lie about the truth, I mean.” His mouth turned up a little at one side, but she wasn’t sure it was a smile. “Particularly when it’s as plain as the nose on your face. And mine.”
She touched her own nose by reflex, and laughed, a little nervously. His nose was hers, and the eyes, too. He was tanned, though, with dark-chestnut hair clubbed in a queue, and while his face was very like her—their—father’s, his mouth had come from somewhere else.
“Well. I do apologize, though. For not telling you.”
He looked at her, expressionless, for the space of four heartbeats; she felt each small thud distinctly.
“I accept your apology,” he said dryly. “Though in all honesty, I’m glad you didn’t tell me.” He paused, then, apparently thinking this might sound ungracious, added, “I wouldn’t have known how to respond to such a revelation. At the time.”
“And you do now?”
“No, I bloody don’t,” he said frankly. “But as my uncle recently pointed out, at least I haven’t blown my brains out. When I was seventeen, I might have.”