Benedict winced. “Yes, Sebastian,” he said quietly. “You have been superlative.”
That’s when Sebastian realized precisely how high a price he’d paid. Benedict himself had followed in their father’s footsteps, taking over the factories and the machinery of trade that Sebastian had ignored. He was quiet, responsible, and competent. They’d grown as far apart as two brothers could be. Oh, he’d known that his brother despaired of him—but he’d always thought it was a loving, brotherly sort of despair, the kind where he clapped his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and called him incorrigible.
But this was disapproval with a bite, a vicious reproof that would rob him of his brother and his nephew all in one blow.
“You’re wrong,” Sebastian said quietly. “I’m much more than you’ve credited me with.”
“Hmm.”
“I understand,” Sebastian continued, before his brother could launch into a second list of complaints, “why you’d think that way. Over the last years, I’ve hardly given you the chance to know me.”
“I know you,” Benedict contradicted. “I know you very well.”
“I’m not like you,” Sebastian said, “but I think we have more in common than you think.”
“Oh?” Benedict raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
“My choices have meant that you haven’t had an opportunity to see that,” Sebastian continued, “so I should be the one to bridge the gap. You want me to do something that you’ll understand? Very well. Trade, it is.”
His brother snorted. “Sebastian, you can’t just announce that you’re going to take up trade. It takes years.”
“Mmm.” He had no intention of dedicating his life to trade—but he did have an idea, one that had tickled his fancy the other day as he was reading an account in the newspaper. His idea was a little thing, but it would be something they could talk about. They might have a conversation based on something other than lies or Benedict’s disapproval.
“Oh, no,” Benedict said. “I know that look on your face. You’re coming up with a plan. A Sebastian-like plan. I know how you operate. You’re going to come to me and tell me you’ve gone into trade, when we both know it will be some sort of trick.”
“No tricks,” Sebastian said, already distracted by thoughts of what he would have to do. “No cheating.”
His brother snorted. “Neither of us needs more money, Sebastian. I don’t want you to engage in speculation. The last thing I need to worry about on top of everything else is my brother’s solvency.”
“There will be no need to worry.” Sebastian smiled at his brother. “I promise I won’t risk any more than four or five thousand pounds, which I can well afford to lose. But I meant what I said. I’m done with my work as a scientist. And…” He looked up, meeting Benedict’s eyes. “And you are important to me. You’re right; it’s not about the money. It’s about having something we can talk about.”
His brother took a step back. “My God, Sebastian. I almost think you’re serious. When are you ever serious?”
“I’m serious about you,” Sebastian said. “You’re the only family I have left. Harry is…he’s the closest thing I have to my own child.”
“It’s hard to take in. You’re never serious about anything.” His brother considered his words. And then—because Benedict was perfect, and he didn’t believe in exaggerations, he added, “Except Violet.”
Violet. God, thoughts of her felt like the memory of a missing limb.
Another man might have seen Violet’s eyes at their last meeting—so calm and collected—and thought her unaffected. Sebastian thought about her hands. She always showed her emotion in her hands. Her hands had been clenched tight, wringing together in an anguish that had not come out on her face. He felt sick, thinking of what he’d said to her.
I have standards, and you don’t meet them. Truth, but truth twisted to sting. Just because she pretended not to have feelings didn’t mean he could outrage them at will.
“More serious,” he said. “You know Violet and her interest in botany. She’s never missed one of my lectures. It’s the only thing she respects me for.” That, he was afraid, was the bitter truth. “I gave that up, but I’m not surrendering you.”
His brother looked at him. “That means a lot to me, Sebastian.”
It was a start. After five years of growing distance, Sebastian finally had a start that he could improve upon. His brother smiled at him; the moment grew almost uncomfortable,
Before it could stretch into awkwardness, the stable door burst open.
“Uncle Sebastian!” A blur of child rushed into the stable. “Uncle Sebastian! What did you bring me?”
“Bring you?” Sebastian said, carefully refusing to look in his brother’s direction. “Harry, why would you think I had brought you anything?”
“Oh, come now, Uncle Sebastian, don’t tease—”