Page 128 of The Language of Love

Henry gave a genuine laugh. “It isn’t because of one night, you pusillanimous little reptile.”

Edmund gave a henlike squawk of surprise. “But—”

“You were a complete bastard to me for eleven years, Edmund. You were never the leader, but you danced to both Julia and Charles’s tunes readily enough. And now, as they say, the pigeons have come home to roost.”

Yet another idiom for Annis.

“That was twenty years ago! We were children, Henry,” Edmund whined. “It was just a prank.”

“Yes, we were children. And out of the four of us, only one of us was cast out into the world thanks to your little prank. Only one of us had to feed and take care of himself. Something you have yet to learn to do even though you are fast approaching forty, Edmund.” Henry took out his watch. “Now, I have a rather busy morning. So, if there is nothing else?”

Edmund lunged to his feet. “The head of the family is supposed to care for its members, Henry, not exact revenge. You’re doing an appalling job thus far.”

“I can live with that, Edmund.”

“You… bastard.”

The word had once stung like nettles. Now Henry just smiled.

Edmund stalked from the room and slammed the door behind him.

Henry sighed and slumped in his chair, drained but relieved to have begun the process of claiming Stoke as his own.

Unfortunately, Edmund had only been the dress rehearsal.

Julia would be the actual performance.