The Heiress Effect (Brothers Sinister #2)

“More than a year ago, at Christmas,” she said, with a firm nod of her head.

A vague recollection came back to him—of a late night sitting with his sister in front of the fire, passing pages of the newspaper back and forth.

“I can manage some of it from books,” she was saying, “but I need to practice. I need you.”

“As I recall,” Oliver said, “I promised I would help as soon as I had time, and I haven’t had any. In the intervening year, I’ve been…”

“You’ve spent months with the duke.” She folded her arms accusingly.

“That was different. I was talking to men in London about reform. That’s the whole reason I haven’t had any time. When this is all finished, then I’ll…”

Her chin rose. “When this is all finished? How long will that take, Oliver?”

“I’m really not sure.”

Her lips pursed. “It took more than three decades for the issue to receive serious consideration in Parliament again, after the last Reform Act. Last year’s bill was soundly defeated. It stands to reason that your goal might be years away.”

“That’s why I’m working so hard,” he told her. “The harder I work now, the sooner it will happen. Learning always keeps. Greek will still be there once I’m done with this.”

Her eyes flashed. “Oliver, if I start learning Greek two years from now, it will be too late.”

“Too late for what? Too late because you’ll be married?”

But she shook her head. “Too late for me to go to Cambridge.”

He stopped dead and looked at her. He felt a little chill run down his spine; he wasn’t sure where it had come from. He wanted to reach out and grab her, to fold her in his arms and keep her safe. From what, he wasn’t certain. From herself, perhaps.

“They don’t let women study at Cambridge,” he finally said.

“Do you not pay attention to anything?” she demanded. “Not now, they don’t. And there are no plans to open the University itself, of course. But there’s a committee talking about a women’s college in the village of Girton. I’m not old enough yet, Oliver, but by the time I am…”

God. She wanted to go to Cambridge. He pulled in a long breath and stared at her, but it didn’t help. His head seemed to be ringing, echoing with a noise that repeated over and over.

Well, some practical side of himself whispered, it could have been worse. She could want to go to Eton.

He refused to think about Free at Eton.

Instead, he took a few steps forward and took hold of her hand. She was smaller than he was—not so large a difference that he thought of it much, but his earliest memories of her were of vulnerability. Watching out for her. Picking her up and sweeping her in his arms in a wide circle while she screamed in delight, making sure to hold on tightly so that she wouldn’t fall.

“You think that all you’ll have to do to go to Cambridge is learn a little Greek?”

She stared up at him, her eyes clear and defiant.

“Do you have any idea what you’re taking on? When I went to Cambridge, I was barraged with an unceasing deluge of insult, both subtle and overt. I couldn’t go a day without someone telling me that I didn’t belong. You’ll have every one of my disadvantages—except I had my brother and Sebastian. You’ll be alone. And you’re a woman, Free; everyone will be against you. They’ll want you to fail twice as much as they wanted me to—first because you’re a nobody, and second because you’re a woman.”

She shook her head. “Then I’ll have to succeed three times as hard as they want me to fail. You, of all people, should understand that.”

“I love you,” he said. “That’s all this is. I love you, and I don’t want you to suffer. And…for me, Cambridge was the beginning. It was a handful of classes and exams and professors and papers, and afterward, the camaraderie of having attended school with a group of friends. And enemies.” He looked over at her.

She raised her chin defiantly.

“It won’t be like that for you. Going to Cambridge will not be a thing you do, followed by another thing and another thing. Going to Cambridge will define who you are forever after. For the rest of your life, you’ll be The Girl Who Went to Cambridge.”

“Someone will have to be The Girl Who Went,” she said. “Why shouldn’t it be me? And don’t worry; I have no intention that getting a college degree will be the last of the dreadful things I do. I’d rather be the Girl Who Did instead of the Girl Who Didn’t.” She sniffed and looked away. “And I never thought you would talk me out of it, Oliver. Of all the people who I imagined would wish me to fail—”

“I don’t wish you to fail,” he said tersely. “If you are going to Cambridge, I wish you to succeed. I wish you to succeed against all odds. I only wish they didn’t have to be arrayed against you.”