Redipping his quill, Silas opened the ledger he’d been reviewing to a clean page to write down the numbers still in his head. “I’m not leaving us homeless. I intend to purchase another estate better suited to our needs.”
“Better suited.” Christian flung up his hands. “How? Where?”
“It’s called Gorse End. In Liverpool.”
“Liverpool!” He paced toward the bookshelf. “That’s away from . . . from everything!”
Silas waited for the numbers to dry before turning to the shelf behind his desk, finding the plans for the newly purchased estate tucked safely between volumes of his encyclopedias. “I’ve reviewed everything myself—”
Christian stomped back and snatched the plans, unfolding them on his side of the desk. Blew hair from his eyes as he looked them over. The study was painfully silent for nearly a minute.
“It’s smaller.” He shook his head. “It’s older. How is this a fair trade?”
Reaching over, Silas calmly collected the papers, ensuring he folded them along the proper creases. “It’s an enchanted house.”
“So what?”
So what? Such a simple question. Gorse End was an enchanted home with spells he had previously never even dreamed of possessing. Spells he feared simply taking, for while the place wasn’t among the holdings of the King’s League of Magicians, it was documented by the London Institute for the Keeping of Enchanted Rooms, an institution with which the previous tenant had been friendly. If Silas wanted those spells, his best bet was to reside at the estate so he could feign its magical ability should the law ever come around to check. Besides, he had to live somewhere, did he not? There would be no snooping soldiers in Liverpool, and the estate was away from everything, a perfect hideaway for him as he sorted out his future and built his invisible walls. It was a place he could tuck into and rest. A place he would feel safe. A place that would let him move on and forget, for his father’s presence still haunted the shadows here. And, sometimes, his mother’s.
He eyed his brother. The King’s League had been working hard to recruit Christian as well. Now that his brother’s studies were finished, it was only a matter of time before he joined. Before he unwittingly became another chain Silas would have to break.
Frustrated by Silas’s lack of answer, Christian kicked the desk, jolting it.
“Really, Chris.” Silas sighed.
“A portion of the estate belongs to me.” His brother’s voice took on a dark edge. “It’s in father’s will. I’ll get a solicitor and block the sale.”
Silas’s stomach clenched. “You will do no such thing.”
“You don’t lord over me, Lord Hogwood.” His nose creased like he smelled something disgusting. “You are not the sole benefactor. You are not—”
Silas stood abruptly, causing his chair to skid over the hardwood. Collecting his ledger, he headed for the door. “Keep your portion, then,” he said. “You can hunker down in your precious little cottage on the south end and suck up to the King’s League for your maintenance.”
He had nearly reached the door when a kinetic pulse clipped his shoulder and slammed it shut.
His father shoved him into the wall, screaming obscenities so slurred together Silas couldn’t determine what they were. The next blow hit his stomach so hard, he vomited.
Silas whirled around.
Christian lowered his hand, the fingers stiff. “I am not finished.”
“Oh yes, you are,” Silas growled. “You dare to use our father’s magic against me? I haven’t felt that sting for fifteen years.”
“I didn’t mean to—” Christian slashed away the words with a swipe of his hand. Paused. “What really happened to him, Silas?” A shadow spawned on his face. “What really happened to Mother?”
“Why do you keep. Asking. Me.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “Why do you think I know? I wasn’t there. Her body was never recovered. It doesn’t matter. She was—”
“Dying anyway. So you always say.”
“So you always question!” Silas countered. “You discovered her missing first. Why don’t you tell me what happened to her, hm? How a servant snuck her away under your nose?”
“You always turn it around on me.”
“You always point the finger first!”
“You were the last to see her!” Christian shouted.
“In a house that employs seventy-eight, you fool!” Silas didn’t often raise his voice, but it ricocheted off the oak walls. “And what does it matter? She’s at peace. Stop digging up the dead—”