Sebastian and Robert had made the sign hanging over the table. “Congratulations* Oliver!” it read in bright, multihued letters. The asterisk after the congratulations led to a footnote, spelled out in tiny black letters along the bottom of the banner.
Oliver stepped close and peered up at the canvas. “On managing to bamboozle an otherwise intelligent, lovely young woman into marrying you, which is quite possibly your greatest accomplishment to date,” he read aloud. But he was smiling as he did. “You’re right. Completely right. I still can’t quite wrap my head around my good fortune.”
“You should have been there when they first met,” Sebastian told Robert. “It was quite an event.”
“You weren’t there when we first met.” Oliver frowned. “Were you?”
“When they second met,” Sebastian corrected himself with a shrug. “She talked him in circles and afterward, he kept glancing over his shoulder and refusing to talk about her. It was love at second meeting. It was obvious to everyone except him; he took months to figure it out.”
Robert snickered. “God, you should have seen him mope about her. It was catastrophic. I thought something awful had happened, and he never even mentioned her name.”
“I am right here,” Oliver announced. “Standing in front of you two.”
A casual glance across the room would not instantly make one think that Robert and Oliver were related. Robert’s hair was blond; Oliver’s was almost orange, and he had a smattering of freckles dotting his nose in contrast to Robert’s pale skin. But beyond those superficial details, they looked so much alike. The same ice-blue eyes; the same sharp nose. They shared many of the same mannerisms. The two were practically inseparable, and had been since they’d discovered they were half-brothers years before.
“Oh, right,” Robert said in feigned surprise. “You are here. I suppose we’ll have to save the gossip about you for tomorrow night when you’ll be otherwise occupied. Tonight, you celebrate the last evening before your marriage in the style that only the Brothers Sinister can provide!”
“Yes,” Sebastian said. “We have here only the most sinister of foods—which is to say that any man who eats with his right hand must be made to drink an entire glass of my famous punch.”
The three of them—and Violet—had been called the Brothers Sinister since their days at Eton, mostly because they’d been left-handed and constantly in one another’s company.
Oliver winced. “Oh, God. No. Tell me you’re not making your wine punch.”
“I have a bottle of thistle spirits for that precise purpose.”
Oliver shook his head; Robert looked mildly ill. Sebastian grinned all the more. The thistle spirits came from one of the tenants on his estate, and they were as bad as they sounded: green, bitter, with bits of plant matter floating on top. They had a bite that snapped one’s head back. Sebastian had practiced for weeks when he was nineteen so that he might drink the stuff without grimacing. It had been one of his favorite pranks at university.
Here, try this.
“So,” Robert said. “Remember, only the left hand may be used—easy for Sebastian and me, but those of us odd enough to use either hand with equal utility”—this, with a frown at Oliver— “must make an effort to recall proper behavior. It’s time to start the festivities!”
“Wait.” Sebastian held up his hand. “We can’t start. Violet’s not here yet.”
Robert turned to him and then, ever so slowly, let out a breath between his teeth. “Ah,” he said. “Uh.”
“Robert.” Sebastian took a step forward. “Where is Violet?”
“Uh…”
“Did she refuse to come? I know that we’ve been, um, a little out of sorts, but I didn’t think she’d actually avoid my company with the rest of you lot around.”
Robert bit his lip. “About that…”
“You did invite her, didn’t you?”
Robert looked away. “I thought…she’s only an honorary member…”
“An honorary member!” Sebastian took another step forward. “You didn’t even ask her? Is that what you’re saying?”
“She isn’t a brother,” Oliver put in defensively, “as she isn’t a boy. She wasn’t with us at Eton. And she isn’t even left-handed. Honestly, the honorary membership has always seemed to me to be something of a gift. She doesn’t meet any of the criteria to be a Brother Sinister, and it is only in light of her—”
“In light of the fact that we grew up with Violet,” Sebastian said through his teeth. “In light of the fact that she has been with us through our hardest times and never once complained about her own life. In light of the fact that she helped Jane last month with her uncle—something I think you should try and recall, Oliver.”
Oliver had the grace to look ashamed.
“And you two think it’s no problem to shunt her aside simply because she isn’t actually left-handed?”