“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” she asked peevishly, flouncing to the chair before to his desk, seating herself without invitation. “You could have sent word, you know. I would’ve had a welcoming dinner prepared for you.”
“Unnecessary,” he muttered. “In any case, I won’t be here long.”
“You’re never here long,” she shot back. “Just long enough to cause trouble before you flit back to London and leave us to pick up the pieces.”
“Well, I daresay I won’t be here long enough to cause any trouble, love,” he lied smoothly. He had every intention of paying a visit to the fair lady of Derrybrook that night, having run into her husband the previous evening as the lord journeyed to London. Draining his balls before going to bed was a sure way to ensure his headache would be extinguished while he slept, and Lady Derrybrook had a fantastically firm grip.
Maris rolled her eyes, clearly not believing him. “We really need to throw a ball, you know. Invite all of the most eligible—“
“No.”
“But Silas, we need to start finding you a—“
“Maris, I said no.”
“Well, are you at least staying long enough so that we can invite the Countess of —“
“Maris.”
Her mouth snapped shut at last, glaring at him.
“I’m not,” he went on succinctly. “I need to be getting back to London before the end of the week, actually. I’ve only come back to deal with the accounts and to make sure that you’re set up with everything you require for the season, darling. And besides, I don’t think I would be very welcome at any table across from the Countess of Crevingsham unless she’s acquired a concussion and no longer remembers the incident involving her sister.”
Across the desk, his sister grumbled. He couldn’t quite make out her words, but he was certain he managed to catch appalling behavior quickly followed by thinking with your cock before her mouth set in a firm line, resembling their mother so entirely that he nearly shuddered.
He and Maris had been told they resembled twins since they were children, and he knew the sour look she was directing at him was likely identical to the one he had given Kestin only minutes earlier. Her silver-white hair was twisted into a thick plait that began at her temples, the long length of it winding back up to curl around her head like a crown. The white veining shot through her ebony skin was dusted in a powder that gave it a luminous glow, and her lips were painted to look like plump cherries. The only marked difference in their outward appearance was her slightness, her wings more angular, taking on the guise of a bird rather than a bat. She’d had her horns capped in silver the previous winter, and Silas was forced to admit that the effect — her crown-like hair, the winking silver, her haughty expression – coalesced into something more lord-like than he probably managed on a day-to-day basis. All the better. Proof that your plan is a good one.
“I’ll be reviewing the accounts tomorrow evening,” he pushed on, changing the subject to things that actually mattered. “You have unlimited access and absolute authority in my absence, you know that. Don’t let me come back here to find little Silas sleeping in a cradle not adorned with moonstones and silver, so you understand?”
She laughed, her hands landing on the swell of her stomach almost without her conscious choice. She was looking well, he thought. Silas knew she was worried. Their mother had died in childbirth, the egg she’d been carrying never hatching, a double loss from which their father never recovered. He’d not been lying to Eleanor Eastwick when he’d offered his condolences, knowing exactly the burden that rested on her attractive shoulders. His sister was well-positioned to carry on the family line, and if at least one of her children were named after him, he would be satisfied.
“I think it’s a girl. I don’t know why, it’s just a feeling I have . . . Have you heard from Cadmus?” Her voice softened, and Silas nodded, indicating the unopened parchment on the desk before him.
“I have, although I’ve not read it yet. I think it’s safe to assume he’s not dead if we’re still receiving things.”
Maris huffed. “Don’t even joke about something like that! How dreadful. He sent me the loveliest dress. It’s bright blue, like a peacock, and hand-painted. The embroidery around the neckline has little shells in it – shells! The tiniest little things, right from the sea! It’s so beautiful. I’ve no idea where I’ll have a chance to wear it, or even if it will fit me right now, and it’s so exotic, but I love it. I do miss him so, Silas. Can’t you write to him? Ask him to come home?”
“This isn’t his home, Maris. It never was. It wasn’t his life. Mother made certain he knew that. He has his own life out there, somewhere.”
His sister lowered her eyes, and the silence that hung between them held the extra weight of their absent eldest sibling.
“We need to plan a ball,” she began after a moment in a slow, measured voice, quickly raising a placating hand. “Not for this week, obviously. Sometime this spring. Pick a week when you’re not needed in London, preferably after the rainy season, and I can begin planning it. We need to find you a wife, Silas. It’s far past time that you wed.”
“It sounds like you’re attempting to trot me out like some prize-winning spaniel. Does a collar come with this ball of yours?”
“The Monsters Ball is coming up, is it not?” she sniffed after a long moment of glaring at him. “I do hope you are prepared? At this point, I don’t even care who you marry, only that you do. It’s bad enough that you brokered my marriage like some bloody banker, but now you expect me to be your broodmare. It’s horribly unfair, Silas.”
“It’s almost as if you’re not enjoying married life, dear. Someone should let Luenn know.”
“You can go right ahead and do that,” she shot back, “because we all know he’s your chosen puppet. I don’t know what game you’re playing at Silas, but you’re not a child anymore. It’s time to do your part. You have a duty to the family name.”
Silas opened his mouth to speak, but his sister didn’t give him a chance, plowing on, barely taking a breath.
“You sent me out for my season, and I married the man you hand-picked for me without complaint because I knew that was my role. My duty to the family. Now I’m carrying a child who’ll end up as your ward because you don’t have an heir. And again, that’s my duty. If you don’t come home from the Monster’s Ball with a fiancée, then I’m planning a ball upon your return, and you will marry someone. Perhaps of my choosing, just to even things off a bit. I don’t even care if she can bear your child. I’ll be sure to give you another with your bloody name. I’ve done my duty, Silas. It’s time to stop faffing about and do yours.”
By the time Maris left, his head was throbbing. The most annoying bit was that he knew she was right. He was doing a horrible job at carrying out his duty to the family name, and he was being terribly unfair to his sister. It only feels unfair right now. When she’s wearing the title, it will all make sense. Slicing open the letter from his brother, Silas pushed away thoughts of his sister’s plan for him. His plan for her was far more prescient, after all.