Chapter Eighteen

"You are not staying."

"Please, Fairglen." Much to Henry's irritation, his brother did not seem to listen to a word which he was saying. He threw out his hands, seemingly desperate for Henry to listen to him. "There is so much that needs to be said. I have tried to write to you many a time, have sent letters explaining what happened but you have never once responded."

"Your letters went in the fire," Henry stated, darkly. "Do you not understand, Frankton? I am finished with both of you."

His brother shook his head sadly. "It is not as you think."

That gave Henry pause. He looked back at Lord Frankton, taking in the way his brother frowned, seeing the darkness flickering in his eyes and finding himself wondering at it. It was foolishness, he thought quickly, to permit himself to allow even a single thought as regarded the past to come back into his mind. He had been perfectly contented these last three years to live a life that did not include his brother and there was no reason for him to change that now.

"I want this situation to change," Lord Frankton continued, his tone now one of desperation. "When Mother wrote to say that you were contented to have us back in your house again, I could not help but feel a sense of hope, even if it was she who wrote to us."

Henry frowned at this last remark, then shrugged it off. "Mother did not write any of my sentiments within that letter. You are just as unwelcome as you have always been."

His brother closed his eyes and let out a small sigh. "Please, Fairglen. I understand that this has caused you a great deal of distress but you appear to be a good deal more contented now. You are engaged again, are you not? That speaks of – "

"That speaks of a heart that has given up on trusting anyone and who has made a match with the very first suitable young woman that he found," Henry snapped, breaking into his brother's words. "Do you not understand what you did, brother? You not only stole my bride, you stole my ability to trust anyone in the same way again." Growing all the more angry as his brother shook his head in evident denial of what he had said, Henry stepped closer, shoving one finger hard into his brother's chest.

"If you had only had the smallest amount of decency, you would have come to tell me about the feelings you had for her," he said, a little hoarsely such was the anger that burned through him. "I might have understood. I would never have forced her to marry me if she had an affection for you. That would have been nothing but a torment for both of us! Why did you not say? Why did you not tell me – "

"I have never cared for Rachel."

His brother's words brought Henry to a stop. His hand fell to his side as he looked at him, frowning and then, after a moment, shaking his head. "I do not believe you."

"It is true," Lord Frankton continued, speaking so quietly that even in his state of anger, Henry had no choice but to quieten himself also. "I have never had any sort of affection for Rachel. We have been married for some years now, of course, and in that time I have found my heart a good deal more open to her. I would say now that I care deeply for her and she for me but that was certainly not present at the start – and that was for her heart also."

Henry did not know what to say to this. He frowned, about to tell his brother that he did not believe him again, only to then snort. "Then it was never about affection, was it? It was only ever about desire. You had a desire for her and so you took it. Or was it that you had a desire for what I had? You hid your jealousy and your envy very well if that is the case. I did not suspect it for a moment."

His brother closed his eyes and pressed at the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow sigh. "My dear brother, either you refuse to listen or you refuse to understand, I cannot tell which it is that you are doing."

"I am listening to you, brother," Henry sneered. "I simply do not believe a word that you say."

"Which is a concern to me, though understandable," came the response. "But in your refusal to listen, you miss seeing who the real culprit is."

Henry blinked, a little confused. "What do you mean?"

His brother eyed him as though he was uncertain as to whether or not Henry truly meant such a question. "It was not as you think," he said, quietly. "Henry, there is a great deal that you do not understand, a great deal that I want to tell you about but you must be in a place where you are willing and able to listen." A frown darkened his expression. "If you cannot believe for even a moment that what I am saying is true, then I do not think that you are ready to hear the rest of what I have to say."

Henry shook his head. "This is all lies."

" No , it is not !"

The vehemence, the fierceness which flooded through Lord Frankton's voice gave Henry pause. It was only for a moment, only gave him a brief moment of consideration, but it was enough to ignite a spark within him. Could there be more to this sorry story than he had ever let himself believe? Or was his brother telling yet more lies in order to cover up his own wrongdoing?

"I should like to stay here for only a few days," Lord Frankton continued, his voice now flat as though he had given up completely on Henry even listening to him. "I thought… I thought there might be some reconciliation but I can see that you are not willing to even listen to me as yet. However, as much as you would like to throw me from the house, I must beg to stay even just two days for Rachels' sake."

Henry scowled.

"She is expecting a child, Fairglen," his brother finished, as all of Henry's irritation faded into surprise. "The journey was rather difficult for her and I wanted her to remain at home but she was quite insistent." His shoulders lifted and then dropped. "She was very eager for reconciliation, just as I was."

Henry blinked, then looked away.

"That surprises you?" Lord Frankton shook his head. "It should not. It is as I have said, brother. Neither she nor I ever wanted to hurt you, never wanted to cause you any pain."

"Then why did you do as you did?" Henry demanded, his hands curling back into fists as he fought to control the sudden jolt of fierce anger which ran through him. "Why would you treat me with such inconsideration?"

His brother smiled softly, though it was not a triumphant smile. Rather, it spoke of sadness, of regret and of pain. "We did not, Fairglen," he said, making his way to the door as though he was not about to give Henry the opportunity to throw Rachel and him from the house. "All that you think we were responsible for, we did not do. You may not believe me now but, if you would only give us the smallest opportunity to explain, with a heart that is more open to the truth than it is at present, I can assure you, everything you think you know to be true at present would be completely and utterly shattered."

Henry opened his mouth to respond but his brother had already taken his leave. Too late did Henry realize that he had not said whether or not his brother could leave or stay, making it now appear, no doubt, that he was entirely welcome to linger for a few days, as he had asked. That was not at all what Henry had wanted to do but yet, now knowing what he did about Rachel, it was not as though he could be callous enough to throw her from the house, could he?

What am I to do?

Shaking his head to himself, Henry made his way across the room and poured himself a large measure of whiskey. Taking a gulp, he let the warmth seep through him but he did not feel even the smallest bit of relief. Instead, all that came to him was confusion and doubt, leaving him more uncertain than ever. Ought he to give his brother an opportunity to tell Henry his version of the truth? Or was it best simply to push both Lord Frankton and Lady Frankton from his house as soon as he could and, thereafter, forget all about him as he had done before?