She wondered if she should feel angry or affronted, but nothing could replace her terrible sadness. “You were fighting a war, Michael,” she said tiredly. “You made the best choice you could. Could you control everything that happened afterward, every choice other men made during battle? If you think so, you’re arrogant as well as proud.”
He slowly sank down onto the chaise longue, and she did the same, so that side by side they stared into the gloom and shadows, into the past. She knew that Michael was a man who grew up learning to hide his emotions, and he’d become a master at it. Somehow, being there with her and Oliver had raised his doubts to a new level, giving her the chance to see into his very soul.
She turned on the chaise until their knees touched and she could look into his face. “You can’t blame yourself for Oliver’s behavior.”
He thinned his lips. “And why can’t I? He was forced to become the earl at eighteen.”
“His behavior started long before my father’s death. In some ways, Gabriel’s death changed everything. It was hard enough for me to accept, but when a twin dies, half of the whole ... it made him alone in the world for the first time. I think Oliver was overly determined to have his own way because now he had to do it all himself. And our mother was no use to him.”
“Why not?” Michael asked.
“If anything, she drove Oliver into selfishness because she was so very good at it. Everything in her life was about her need to have Papa nearby, whatever the consequences. She seemed to think she would lose him otherwise though he’d never given her reason to believe so—or so I’ve assumed.” She regarded him thoughtfully.
Michael shook his head. “I never saw your father even look at another woman.”
Cecilia tried to smile. “I knew that. But my mother could never believe it, and that is an insecurity that Oliver shares, and selfishness is his way to overcome it.”
“Could selfishness drive your brother to do things he’d never considered before?”
She shivered, knowing what Michael was asking. “I just don’t see why,” she whispered at last. “I’d give him control of anything he wanted.”
“Does he know that, Cecilia?” Michael asked gravely. “Or would he be justified in thinking you don’t trust him.”
“Trust him?” She stood up swiftly. “Of course I trust him! I’m the one tellingyouhe’s innocent.”
“But maybe he feels youdon’ttrust him, that you’ll spend the rest of your life looking over his shoulder.”
“That’s not true,” she said, feeling almost queasy. But was it? “I’ve told you I’m going to have nothing to do with the estate for a day after your family leaves. But I want him to know he can ask me questions. Is that wrong?”
“Though I wish I could tell you, Cecilia, it’s obvious my judgment is as flawed as the next man’s. But I think you’re doing the right thing beginning to step back.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes I wonder if Oliver is... hiding something that’s affected him more than he could ever tell me.”
Michael studied her in surprise. “And you’ve never asked him?”
“I’ve only recently had this nagging thought, and I can’t shake it. I—I didn’t tell you because part of me feared he was hiding his involvement in the attacks on me. But now ... I don’t think so. It’s something else. And I’m going to discuss it with him.” She lifted her chin resolutely.
Michael frowned. “I’m not certain it’s a good idea to antagonize him.”
“I won’t do that. I will simply ask as a concerned sister. Maybe he’ll tell me something that will convince me he’s innocent of attempted murder.”
“I’d like to be there.”
“No.”
“Cecilia, I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
She closed her eyes, wondering how her life had become so warped that even her own brother might be a danger. “We’ll see. Or maybe you can be nearby on the terrace, as you were that day the ladies from Enfield visited.”
He nodded, and they remained quiet for several minutes, both thinking their own thoughts.
“I can’t believe you have no harsh words for me,” he said at last, lifting both her hands in his.
“You have punished yourself enough,” she answered. “My father loved you like a son, and he would be the first to understand.”
Gently, he drew her into his arms. “Cecilia—”
He said her name with aching tenderness, then simply stopped.
