“Glass houses, brother of mine, glass houses.”
Finn flicked away the critique, struggling with a line of colloquial speech in the letter he wasn’t sure how to interpret. “It’s a perfect solution. Wish I’d thought of it myself. Oh, wait, I did. Now you just have to get Victoria to agree.” He spared her spectacles, sitting almost within reach on the desk, a hard look, vexed for no reason. Or no reason he wanted to admit. “Good luck with that.”
“It isn’t perfect in any way if you care for her, Finn.”
Finn folded the letter with two neat tucks and slipped it inside the envelope. “You know how it goes. Women can’t seem to help themselves, and apparently, neither can I.”
“The kiss Piper and I witnessed was nothing, that’s what you’re saying.”
“A bit of boredom. I’m used to the excitement of Town, and so is she. Consider it a country pleasure among friends.”
Julian was silent for so long—a painful, drawn-out hush—that Finn was forced to look him in the eye. Lord, did his brother know how to employ medieval torture.
Finn tossed the letter to the desk, feeling his temper notching higher. Yanking open a desk drawer, he nudged Victoria’s spectacles into it and slid it shut. “It would be ruinous for her to consider an association with me.”
“From the ton’s perspective, I agree.” Julian flipped to a blank sheet in his folio and began to sketch, his hand whipping across the page. An artist since he was a child, he often drew while he talked. Finn had long-ago gotten used to it. “If that’s what she wanted, however, who cares what they think? You don’t owe society a thing, Finn. I’ve made sure of it. You have funds and a family. A home. Your wife won’t have anyone to challenge, please, or enrage but you. Chose for love and only for love. That’s my advice. Above and beyond this weird realm we find ourselves thrust into, find the person you can’t live without.”
“I’m not cut out for marriage, Jule. Mind reading presents too many complications. And would place too much strain on the one relationship where my gift isn’t a concern.”
Julian paused, did another hum beneath his breath, then added a stroke to the drawing. “I used to think that about my gift, about Piper. Too much responsibility. Too incredible a task to protect and love her at the same time. While growing the League, being the man I wanted to be. Only when I allowed myself to do just that without thinking about it so hard did the world right itself, was I able to find my home, my place. Fear kept us apart for years. My fear, not Piper’s. I still wake some nights in a panic, thinking I let her go, let Lucien go, because of my stubborn belief that I knew better. When I knew almost nothing except that I loved her.” He glanced up, then down, and Finn had the awful realization that Julian was sketching him. “In the end, I just blindly went with my heart.”
Welcome anger washed over Finn, and before he could stop himself, he sent his hand across the desk, hurling papers and ledgers to the carpet. “I don’t even know who I am, Jule!” With a choked inhalation, he slumped back, realizing he’d spoken in French. Rage flowing from his soul in a language a rookery orphan shouldn’t know.
Shouldn’t dream in. Shouldn’t adore.
With the calm composure he was known for, Julian knelt and began to tidy the mess Finn had made of his correspondence. “You know, you did that often when we first pulled you off the streets. During what I called the night terrors, when Humphrey and I had to hold you down to get you to sleep, you’d slip into this perfectly-accented French mixed with the most dreadful cockney. You went from street thug to refined toff in the blink of an eye while telling me exactly what I was thinking. It was terrifying.”
Finn searched the ceiling for a crack, a spiderweb, anything to keep from looking at his brother. Losing control wasn’t a reward he normally afforded himself. “I don’t remember.”
“Probably beneficial that.” Julian slapped two neat stacks on the desk. “I hope Humphrey has children of his own someday. He was so good with you. Had all the answers when I was hopeless, little more than a boy myself. You and I would’ve never survived without him. His gruff exterior is as contrived as your glib charm.”
Finn gestured to the mess he’d made, his smile weak around the edges. “Apologies. It seems I left my glib charm in London.”
“Thank God for something.”
Finn laughed, affection for his brother overwhelming him. A frightening sentiment that had kept him hiding in his maisonette above the Blue Moon for months.
Being home was splendid and unbearable.
Julian perched on the edge of the desk, traced his finger along a jagged score in the wood. Subtlety wasn’t his strong suit. “Maybe French is part of your history. Why you picked up languages so quickly.”
“No, Jule.”
“We could hire an investigator. Bow Street has worked well for us in the past.”
Finn’s heartbeat kicked into a ferocious rhythm as the scant memories of his time in the orphanage, and before that, if he tried very, very hard to recall, coated him like a bracing winter mist. He looked to Julian, letting everything work its way to the forefront. Coloring his eyes, twisting his features. Of all his talents, and they were many, hiding his feelings wasn’t one of them. “The past is staying in the past. I can’t go there. I don’t want to go there. Not now, not ever.”
Julian waited the appropriate amount of time, letting silence smooth a coarse path, the best man Finn knew at not rushing in. “It doesn’t change anything with your family, this family. That you want to know about the other one. Or need to. I know everything about my past, although I wish I didn’t. But it’s not a blank canvas. I know why I am the way I am, and in some respects, that brings solace. And grief.”
“I’d like to engage an investigator, actually.” At Julian’s surprised look, Finn rushed to add, “To look into what Rossby holds over Victoria’s father. And if they can’t find out, I’ll go directly to the source and steal the unquestionably captivating thoughts in the Grape’s mind.”
Julian blinked, clearly stunned. “You’d go that far for this woman?”
Finn clenched his jaw and looked away, to the window and the hint of yellow he could just make out in the distance. Victoria’s gown was a golden shimmer on the verdant lawn, the exact color of the buttercup that bounded the lake’s edge during summer. If he’d had her opera glasses handy, he would have taken a closer look.
She needs to ride again, Finn suddenly realized, the notion as bright as a friction match being struck in his mind. She’d been watching him these past mornings with longing and fear. He’d felt both emotions shimmering off of her, remnants from the accident with her brother. He could help her in this one small way. “The stable is well stocked, Jule, am I correct?”
Julian nodded, his gaze also going to the women on the lawn. “We have a new groom who’s a most talented clairvoyant. He’ll provide a suitable mount while telling you when you’re set to pass into the great beyond. Why, may I ask?”
Finn tapped the desk drawer holding her spectacles, marveling at his fierce urge to touch them. Thoughts from a maid on an upper floor were leaking in, the dreaded return of his gift. Victoria had moved far enough away to break their bond, and in a moment, he would tell Julian and watch him spark like a hot ember. “A gift for a friend,” he murmured, “just a gift for a friend.”