Chapter 29

“Iwant your blessing,” Norman said abruptly, shifting anxiously in the armchair. “Victoria is the woman I am in love with, the woman I hope to marry a fortnight from now, and the woman I intend to spend the rest of my life with. She has longed to meet you, but she is, at present, suffering from a terrible summer cold.”

Percy ran his hands over the threadbare armrests, taken aback by his half-brother’s words. “Why would you want my blessing? Nay, why would you need my blessing? I have always said that you may do as you please.”

“I know we have never been close as brothers, and I understand why you have chosen to keep your distance from me,” Norman began. “In your position, I would not want to know me either, but… I do want to know you. I always have.”

Percy shook his head. “But you have no reason to want to know me. You and I have barely spent a moment in one another’s company.”

“I used to read the letters you would send to Father,” Norman replied with a faraway smile. “Mother would steal them from the post tray before he could see them, but I saw her one day, and I was curious. I found out where she hid them, and I… devoured them all as if they were stories written just for me. From those letters, I could pretend I had a brother who cared. When they stopped, I was heartbroken.”

Percy mustered a tight laugh. “It becomes difficult to write when no one is responding.”

“I know that feeling all too well,” Norman said wryly. “But I never blamed you for not wanting to hear from me. Mother tried to pretend that she had done her best to love you and care for you, but the servants told me the truth. I do not know if you remember the old housekeeper’s daughter—she was a kitchen maid for a while, before she became the cook.”

“I remember her.”

“Well, she was the one who first told me what my mother did to you. I did not believe her, and almost told Mother what I had heard, but a few others swooped in to confirm it, and I began to look at things differently,” Norman explained. “I would ask Mother about you constantly, just to be certain, and she would become irate. She would rant and scream and curse your name and lock herself in her chambers for hours.”

Percy snorted. “That does sound like her.”

“Once—many years later, when we were in Scotland—she told me herself of what she did, and tried to say that she did it for me. So that I could have everything, and you would have nothing. She even seemed proud of the fact that she had managed to get our father to cast you out, even if she had not succeeded in killing you. Though, of course, she was not pleased that she had not managed to get our father to alter the inheritance.” Norman chewed his lower lip, his eyes sad. “I could never forgive her for that—for denying me the bond of brotherhood. I could never forgive her for turning you against me.

“At Eton, the other boys all had grand stories of adventure and larks with their own brothers. I could never share in that, and… I was a tremendously lonely boy, Percival. Mother smothered me. She did not like me to have friends. If it had not been for Father, I think she would have ensured I received the entirety of my education from tutors who came to the house.” He sighed and sank back into his chair. It is not your fault, of course. As I said, I would never blame you for it, but… I just want you to understand that I have thought of you often, missing what I never had.”

Suspicious, Percy narrowed his eyes at Norman, trying to spot any hint of deceit on the younger man’s face. He liked to think of himself as someone perceptive, at least when it came to gentlemen, but he could not find anything but sincerity and sorrow. In truth, there seemed to be a great weight on the younger man’s shoulders that matched his own.

“I remember reading about your friends out there, in those letters,” Norman said, with a weary smile. “You found brothers. That is no small triumph. Myself—I did not discover the joy of friends until my mother passed, and I decided that I would dip my toe back into society.”

“What is Scottish society like, these days?”

Norman’s smile brightened. “It is rougher, perhaps, than the English kind, but I rather like it. There are not so many airs and graces.” His cheeks reddened slightly. “And if it were not for the liveliness of Scottish reels, I would not have met my beloved.”

“Is she of good station?” Percy asked, realizing with a shudder that he sounded like his father.

Norman tilted his head from side to side. “She is the only daughter of a baron, but I would wed her even if she were a chambermaid. With your blessing, of course.”

“Tell me of her,” Percy encouraged.

Norman closed his eyes and the most awe-inspiring expression of peace fell across his face, just as the last glow of sunset pierced the drawing room windows and bathed him in that heavenly light. “We could not stand one another to begin with. She thought me surly and unpleasant, not to mention a terrible dancer. I thought her rude and uncouth and nothing like the ladies Mother had informed me I should search for, when I looked for a bride.”

He laughed as if remembering something. “Friends of mine made a wager that I would not dance with her, and she overheard and dragged me into the liveliest reel I have ever had the misfortune of stumbling through. She mocked me the entire time, and I chastised her for doing so. And when it was finished, I received the money that was owed from my friends, and there she was, tapping me on the shoulder, demanding half.”

“Did you give her half?”

Norman shook his head. “Certainly not. But then, every time I would go to a gathering or a party and she was there, she would remind me that I owed her. Eventually, we began to banter with one another in a manner that would have appalled most. From the outside, you would have thought we hated each other.” He paused. “Gradually, I began to seek her out at those gatherings, and from our mutual teasing and relentless mocking, something beautiful blossomed.

“It took two years for us to realize that we were hopelessly in love with each other. She had interest from some other gentleman, and I had been entertaining the idea of courting a different lady, when it suddenly hit me—Victoria was the one for me, and always had been. I confessed and, to my relief, she felt the same way. I believe her words were, ‘That took you long enough, you oaf.’ That was three months ago, and though I proposed marriage, I told her I could not marry her until I had your blessing, and she understood. Indeed, she was the one who eventually insisted that we knock at your door and make you listen—I think she was growing impatient—but she fell ill, and I thought it best if we came here first.” He opened his eyes. “I did not know you would be here, though I am glad that you are.”

Percy listened to the story with an unsettling prickle of familiarity, as if he had heard the details before. It took him far too long to realize that it was because his brother’s tale of unexpected love echoed his own. Victoria sounded a great deal like Anna, and though he was, perhaps, more serious than Norman, he could not deny the similarities.

“Did you not fear that she would reject you?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Norman laughed. “What gentleman does not? A lady could say outright that she loves a man, and he would still have doubts before confessing. We are somewhat stupid in that regard, but even if she had rejected me, I would not have regretted confessing. The risk was worth it.” He shuffled forward on the armchair. “But surely, you have experienced such things in your life?”

“No, actually.” Percy cleared his dry throat. “This is the first summer that I have actively sought a bride, and it has not gone so well.”

“Oh?”

Brimming with discomfort, Percy looked out of the drawing room window at the wild, untamed gardens of Granville House. No one would have guessed that there had been beauty there once. No one would be able to see the potential beneath the sprawl of weeds and tangles of thorns, but he knew what it could be, with a little care and dedication.

“There is someone,” he said hesitantly, “but I cannot give her what she wants. Rather, I did not think I could, and now I believe it is too late to undo what I have done.”

Norman smiled. “It is never too late, Percival. Why, look at us right now. Who would have thought that, all these years later, we would be sitting in this room together, having a civil discussion?” He looked nervous for a moment. “Now, I hate to sound selfish, but… do I have your blessing? Do you think you might consent to attend the wedding?”

“It is not in Scotland, is it?”

Norman shook his head. “We decided we ought to wed where she hails from. It is no more than a day’s ride north of here.” He smiled. “She ended up in Scotland in a similar manner to me, you see. Well, somewhat similar. Her father moved his mistress into their manor, and her mother was sent away. She decided to go with her mother.”

For several minutes, Percy considered it, for he could see that there was no malice in his half-brother’s request nor his demeanor. All he could see was an enormous amount of wasted time and a bitter history that neither had had any control over. Perhaps, it was the moment to let bygones be bygones, and start afresh.

“I would be honored to attend your wedding, though I should like to meet this Victoria when she is well enough, to properly give my blessing to you both,” he said. “It appears you are as tenacious as your mother in gaining what you want, yet you have chosen to use your tenacity in a more benevolent fashion. That is why I would ask you for your forgiveness.”

Norman blinked. “Forgiveness? Whatever for?”

“I should have written back to you. I should have read your letters. When your mother passed, I should have attempted to reach out to you.” Percy picked at a loose thread, coming out of the armrest. “It was wrong of me, as your older brother. I am sorry for that.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up from the back of Norman’s throat. “You do not have to apologize, Percival. You probably thought I was going to try and kill you, being my mother’s son and all. That would be reason enough for anyone to show some wariness.”

“You are not, are you?” Percy smiled more boldly. “The wedding is not a ruse to trap me alone, is it?”

Norman shook a playful fist in the air. “Goodness, you have discovered my plot!” He looked so very boyish as he put his hands back in his lap, fidgeting as he grinned. “I am only jesting. Victoria says I do that too much with people I do not know well, but I believe she is worse than me.”

“Anna only teases me and her brothers,” Percy said, more to himself than to Norman. “It is most peculiar, in truth, for she is very good at it.”

Norman’s eyes widened. “Her name is Anna?”

“What?” Percy swallowed. “Oh… yes.”

“Those two gentlemen outside are not the brothers in question, are they?”

Panic clenched Percy’s heart, praying that Max and Dickie were not eavesdropping. “Um… yes, they are. But you must not mention it. They do not know of my feelings. They do not know that I…” He trailed off, a lightning bolt of agonizing, wonderful realization splintering through him, setting every nerve jittering.

They do not know that I love her, he wanted to cry out, all of a sudden, as if she might somehow hear it. They do not know that I have loved her for several years. How could they, when even I did not know until just this moment?

“You should tell her,” Norman said softly. “If she rejects you, at least you know where you stand. But I hope with all my heart that she feels for you what you feel for her.”

Percy stood sharply. “Apologies, Brother. I believe there is somewhere that I need to be, and it is not here.” He brushed an anxious hand through his hair. “But please, do stay here for a while. I will return as soon as I can but… yes, I really do need to be elsewhere. Immediately.”

“I will be waiting to hear the news, whether it be good or bad,” Norman promised, rising to his feet.

Percy flashed him a grin. “Wish me luck.”

“I shall pray for it.”

Steeling his resolve, Percy ran for the drawing room door and sprinted into the entrance hall, where Max and Dickie had commandeered the bottom steps of the staircase.

“Sinclair? What is the matter?” Max asked, jumping up.

Percy paused, breathing hard. “We need to go back to Westyork. Right this minute.”

“Westyork? Whatever for?” Dickie arched an eyebrow, but something about his expression suggested he already knew the reason.

Pushing away the fear that surged for the longest and dearest friendship he had ever had, Percy looked toward Max. “I will explain. I promise, I will explain, but at this moment, I need to leave. Either you can come with me, or you can stay here with my brother. Whatever your decision, make it quickly.”

He rushed out, racing with all his might toward the carriage that had been abandoned halfway up the drive. After all, love made people do foolish things, and he was ready to do the most foolish thing of all—bear his heart to the woman he loved.