Chapter 26

I t'd been a lifetime since Cadogan had seen his eldest brother; or, for that matter, any of his siblings.

Now, brother studied brother.

Time had changed the new Marquess of Thurso, and also, it hadn't. The tall, gangly, quiet-spoken boy had grown into a tall, wiry, somber-looking man.

At some point, he'd shed the wire-rimmed spectacles the late marquess tormented the then-young man, for needing.

Thurso had been bookish and skilled with musical instruments.

And though Cadogan had been well-read, and mastered six languages by age ten, he'd also boxed, fenced, and rode.

There stirred in his mind, the far-off echoes of their brutal sire's rantings…

"…why can't you be strong and savage and ruthless like your little brother…"

Though broad across the shoulders, and now several inches taller than Cadogan, it didn't appear he'd become strong, savage, or ruthless.

In a telltale displease of unease, Thurso shifted ever so slightly on his feet, rocking side to side.

Of a sudden, Cadogan's brother snatched the hat off his head, as if he'd only just recalled he still wore the fashionable article and dragged his spare hand through his slightly curling blond hair.

Yes, from their outward appearances to their ability to hide or conceal their emotions, Cadogan and the marquess couldn't be more different.

Cadogan went first. "Hullo, brother."

"Severin."

Severin .

How strange that two of just a handful of people in his life who referred to Cadogan so, should now stand under the same roof.

Thoughts of Raina and the terror and sorrow on her face as he'd left reminded Cadogan of his goal—ascertain whether Argyll's information was in fact, accurate. Whether, in his years apart from Thurso, they'd become a real-life Cain and Abel.

"My secretary informed me, that during my absence, you've taken to arson?"

"No." Color flooded Thurso's sharply chiseled cheeks. "I play cello now."

Now…?

"…you pathetic boy, with your instruments…I already have two goddamned useless daughters…"

Disturbed by the intrusion of that long-ago memory, Cadogan shoved those reminiscences aside and more carefully studied his brother.

He inclined his head. "I see your sense of sarcasm remains…off, big brother."

"Yes, well, I sense sarcasm in your words now , so one might say it's not quite as abjectly poor as it once was." Thurso gave a weak smile and took a glance about.

While the marquess swept his gaze over his office, Cadogan peered intently at him.

Was Thurso's gaze distracted? Nervous?

What was it?

Cadogan swept an arm over to the pair of armchairs in front of his desk. "Would you care to—?"

"I've written over the years," Thurso said.

He mentally tacked impatient to his brother's peculiar behavior.

"I wondered if…" the marquess mused aloud. This time, it was Cadogan's turn to be examined.

"Did you not receive my notes?"

"I did," Cadogan said.

His brother frowned.

Either the speed with which he'd answered, or the confirmation he'd given, or maybe both, had upset Thurso.

Cadogan took advantage of his brother's distractedness. "What is this about, Thurso?"

Visceral hate flashed in the older man's eyes, such vitriolic rage that confirmed, Thurso, too, possessed a hard streak.

"Do not call me that," Thurso— Cadogan's brother —ordered. "I may have been born to the title, but I'll be damned if I'm called by that bastard's name." His square jaw hardened. "March. I'm March."

Cadogan remained still during that crack in his brother's composure.

Thurso— March —beat his hat against his leg. "Forgive me."

Severin waved a hand about. "No. No, apologies. He was a bastard. Getting away was…"

His eldest brother lifted a blond eyebrow. "The best thing you ever did?"

March's response didn't contain any hint of bitterness. Sadness, yes. But not resentment.

Perhaps Raina had completely shattered the armor Cadogan had built, for he felt the sting of regret at having celebrated leaving when all his other siblings had been left behind.

His brother turned his hat up. "I do not blame you, Severin."

It appeared now two could read his thoughts.

"If fact, I wished I could be like you," March mused. "I believe if I could have, he'd have been less of a bastard."

"Psst. No, he was rotten to the core."

He'd believed the same of himself, until Raina.

Thoughts of her refocused him.

"Did you resent me?" Cadogan put the question to his brother that needed asking.

"Resent you ?" March laughed. "God, no. Envy?" He lifted a finger. "Yes, very much so. But I did not envy all your life, just that you were free to leave."

"…I don't need a useless heir…"

"Time did not soften him, I take it?"

His elder brother answered with a question of his own. "Does it soften anyone? Or just make them harder, angrier, and uglier?"

"Is that what it did to you?" he quietly asked. "Is that why you attempted to have me killed?"

March took a deep, pained, breath, and closed his eyes; telling Cadogan everything he needed to know.

Oh, God.

"It's true," he said, his voice somehow flat, when his stomach churned. "You attempted to have me killed."

"N-No!" His brother's voice broke. "Never. I would never. I didn't mean…"

Reeling, Cadogan stumbled away. He praised a God, he'd not believed in until Raina, that Mauley had secured the house and remained in control, because Lord help him, Cadogan was lost.

"You didn't mean, ‘what'?" he rasped. "To send someone to murder me."

"To leave you marked."

Cadogan gripped the sides of his head and sucked in deep lungful's of air. "What did I ever do to you?" he cried. "Was it not enough you had the marquessate? Was it because our father took great pleasure in reminding you, I was your superior in every way. What?" he begged. "What was it?"

Fear should bleed from the older man's eyes. "You believe I cared about how the duke viewed me?" March asked on an aching whisper. "I didn't need him to remind me, Severin, I always knew. I loved you. You were my hero. You were the big brother, in every way except age. As children, you protected me, as long as you could."

March's shoulders shook with an empty laugh. "As an adult, I tried to protect you, and of course, I fucked it up, in every way."

"What are you talking about?"

"Through a close connection at Parliament, I learned of an assignment you'd been slated to take."

Cadogan's ears sharpened. "Go on."

"The mission was doomed before it'd even been handed you. The outcome ended with you dead. In France, back in '25, there was the—"

"Yes, Yes. I know." He'd been so busy wallowing in the misery of his career being over, he'd not paid attention to details coming out about either the failed or successful missions at the Home Office. He'd taken a dull desk job and simmered all the while with bitter regret.

"I know you loved your career, Severin," his brother said quietly, pulling Cadogan back. "But I loved you more." He shook his head. "I cannot and I will not ever be sorry that you survived, even if it means you die hating me."

Cadogan's head continued spinning. He tried to sort through everything March just revealed.

His career had been everything; the whole basis of his existence. It was all he'd needed and wanted and known.

That's what he'd believed from the moment he'd entered the Home Office, until the moment he'd taken on one unwanted assignment of guarding London's leading Diamond.

Had Cadogan not been marked, he'd have been dead years ago. There'd have been some other man Argyll picked to guard Raina, and be her husband and—

He lifted his stunned gaze to March. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, yes, let us imagine how that would go. Me, your elder brother, who last you knew was afraid of his own shadow, telling you to give up your career, because of dangerous assignment. I expect that would have gone over well."

Cadogan drew back. "Sarcasm, big brother. Well-done."

They shared their first smile, ever. Any ones that'd come and gone during their earliest years were now too distant to remember.

"You're not enraged," his brother noted. "I'd expected you'd snap my neck, or, at the very least pulverize me."

"I'm…" Cadogan shook his head. "I'm not. I'm happy, March," he said simply. "I'm in love with a woman I've just married."

"Yes, Lady Raina Goodheart. Well-done , little brother."

"Mrs. Raina Cadogan now . I forget, gossip travels quickly."

His brother nodded. "Particularly when it unfolds in one of London's most debauched gaming hells." March's expression turned serious. "As I said, I don't expect you to forgive me," he held out a hand, "but I—"

Cadogan caught his brother's palm and drew him into his arms. "You're forgiven."

"You hug now?"

"My wife's influence," he explained, thumping March on his back. "Which you should be grateful for, as this exchange prior to her presence in my life, would have gone a great deal differently and badly for you." He squeezed him hard.

His brother grunted. "I will be sure and express my appreciation when we meet," he wheezed.

Releasing his hold, Cadogan let March go.

Bemused, Cadogan shook his head. "My big brother saving me."

"Only once. Unlike you, who did so countless times from—"

"Do not mention him. He's dead to us."

Cadogan stilled, as a thought stirred in his mind. "Who—"

March accurately anticipated his question. "I cannot tell you the name of my contact in Parliament. I gave my word."

He inclined his head. Cadogan respected that. Something continued to pick at his brain.

March knew of the doomed assignment, but he'd needed the help of someone who could get close to Cadogan, but Cadogan didn't let anyone close.

He'd fought Raina's efforts, tooth and nail.

"Who is responsible for my scar?" he asked quietly.

"I was given contact information for a man who worked under you," his brother explained.

No. A slow-building dread unfurled slowly within him. No.

"Your secretary at the Home Office," March was saying.

No. No. Please, don't say it.

"…I don't want Mauley…"

"Mr.—"

"Mauley," Cadogan whispered.

"…I want my husband…"

"Yes, yes, that is his name."

A tortured moan spilled from Cadogan's chest.

" Severin ?" his brother shouted after him.

His lungs burning, Cadogan kept running.

She had to be all right. There was no life without Raina in it. There was no reason for living.

She was the reason.

She was his reason for being.

And God help Mauley. If he so much as touched a hair on her head, Cadogan would spill the bastard's guts and let rabid dogs feast upon his bloody carcass.