Page 142
“Sometimes, I wonder if he truly is not one.” Nathaniel crosses his arms.
The rustle of wrapping and the small bites of Cecil are heard. The maid standing nearby watches patiently.
Nathaniel turns to the youngest.
“Cecil, do not forget your manners.”
Richard shrugs. “Come now, Nathaniel, leave him be.”
The elder brother, without adding a word, pulls the cord near the door to summon the servants.
Cecil clings to my hand.
“I want to stay with Evander.”
A maid enters.
“Miss Camp, take Cecil to his room.”
She nods, reaching out to the child who, reluctantly, detaches himself and follows the woman. The door closes behind them.
Richard huffs. “You came for him, didn’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
He indicates Nathaniel with a jerk of his chin.
“Sometimes I have the feeling he is your favorite Brownell.”
I give Richard a light tap on the leg.
I do not have a favourite. The two of them are simply... different.
Nathaniel stands up and calmly uncorks the bottle. “You speak only nonsense, brother.”
“We see each other often, I hadn’t seen your brother in a while.”
“I should start traveling more often myself, then.”
Nathaniel takes two crystal glasses, the light of the parlor reflects off the surface of the Madeira as he pours it.
The maid moves to approach, but he stops her with a simple wave of the hand, she lingers an instant and then leaves without a word.
“Richard,” he says in a deep voice, “you have traveled often with Evander, of what do you complain?”
He hands one of the glasses to me.
“Are you jealous that he and I are travelling together?”
I turn to Richard. “Are you sure your fever is gone?”
“Why?”
“Furthermore,” Nathaniel adds, “you know well that my journeys are for business and not pleasure.”
I take the glass from his hand. The ring with the emerald stone glitters under the chandelier light. My gaze slides to his face, the thin scar marking his left cheek is still there. White, smoothed by time, a memory of a past gesture that still weighs heavy.
I tighten my grip on the glass.
