Marcus and Brody did not know all the details—and they didn’t care to—but their parents’ marital issues had always made life difficult for the two boys. Then, the war, Marcus’ injuries, and Brody’s mental break had only furthered the wedge between the family.
They’d never taken his illness seriously. If Marcus could come home to laugh, drink, and work again, then Brody had no excuse. But Marcus had spent most of the war recovering in a cushy officer’s hospital run by a pretty duchess. Captain Broderick Neill served the full four years in the trenches.
Brody had every right to be bitter, and to hate his parents for every army doctor, psychiatrist, and convalescent home they shipped him off to. For essentially getting him addicted to morphine, and being shocked when the miracle-cure blew up in their faces. He had only accepted the treatment to keep Mother happy, and to make Father proud.
He had never asked to love the needle, but perhaps his spiral into addiction was simply inevitable. It was certainly easier to heap his troubles on everyone else, rather than take the blame for his own shortcomings.
Father didn’t favor Marcus because of the war medals. He favored Marcus because he was the better son. Angelica hadn’t slept with another man because she had not trusted him. She slept with another man because she had trusted him, and Brody hadn’t been honest with her.
If he had told her he was leaving to get better, she would have waited. But he had been too afraid that he would fail—that he would not be strong enough or worthy enough—to tell her the truth. Now, if Brody did not confess how he truly felt before things got too far out of hand, he really would only have himself to blame.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Golly!” Mary Rose practically crowed with glee. “That was unfortunate!”
As soon as the song ended, Captain Neill had stormed from the room, with his brother following as best he could. They’d left Angelica alone with Mary Rose.
She fought back tears. This night had been a disaster. She’d felt so certain that Captain Neill had feelings for her—flirting over dinner, the way he held her in his arms as they’d waltzed—yet at the first sign of affection, he’d dashed away. Perhaps she had embarrassed him in front of his siblings…
“I hope you aren’t infatuated with my brother,” the young woman continued, “because that would not end well for you.”
Angelica took the bait. “Why not?”
“Well, for one, my parents would not approve. Secondly, Brody isn’t exactly known for making wise decisions—his life has essentially been one bad decision after another—and you’d be the baddest of them all. He needs someone to look after him, support him. He’d never be able to take care of you…”
“I can take care of myself,” Angelica sniffled.
“You can’t even find your bedroom without someone to guide you. What are you going to do when Brody doesn’t come home for three days, and there’s no money for servants, and you can’t pop down to the market because you’ll never find your way home?”
She swallowed. It wouldn’t be like that. He was better now—he’d given up his injections. How ever he’d behaved in the past to make his sister think him an unreliable wastrel, Captain Neill had changed.
“Oh, Miss Grey. I feel sorry for you, I do! But remember what happened earlier. The moment you bared your heart to him, he bolted. Never show a man your true feelings. The instant they suspect you’re after more than a good time, off they go.”
That was true enough. Angelica had let herself imagine Captain Neill’s behavior was genuine, but it was all part of the act. If he was going to pass her off as anything more than his mistress, he must convince his family that she was a good girl, and that his intentions were honest. People who cared for one another flirted over dessert, and seized any decent excuse to hold each other close. Their dance had been for show. When he realized he’d played his part too well—that she’d forgot her true purpose—he’d stormed off in a rage.
He was going to send her packing.
After this disaster of an evening, no one would blame him.
She’d better get a head start. “Can you ring for Bessie? I want to go to my room.”
Mary Rose laughed. “See what I mean? You can’t do anything.”
“Just ring, please.”
There was a pause. “No.”
The library door slammed shut. Mary Rose Neill had left her there to suffer. Angelica stepped in the direction of the doorway, but what was she going to do, stand in the hallway and call for help? Bleat like a lost lamb for someone to carry her upstairs?
Angelica sat on a nearby sofa. For a moment, she swore she heard rapid breathing. “…Mary Rose…”
The young woman cackled. “Tricked you! Did you really not know I was in here all along?”
She clenched her hands in her lap. It was a cruel trick, but she was not going to give that girl the satisfaction of a reaction.
Mary Rose was not deterred. “I bet your brothers played so many pranks on you.”