votes in the upper house, I can always count him to be on the right side.â
Cam shrugged irritably. âSo Bonningtonâs a bloody saint. He isnât right for Gina, and if you ask me, he knows it. He looks like a sick cow. Sheâs going to drive him around the twig within a month.â
âWhat on earth are you saying?â
âThe manâs regretting it,â Cam stated, flinging himself into a comfortable chair.
âDo you mind if I smoke?â Stephen took out his pipe.
âYes, I bloody well do.â He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. âAnyone could see that he looks hunted. Probably asked her in a rash moment. Fell in love with her beautyâGod, who would have thought that little Gina would turn out so well?âbut he forgot to consider what she would be like at the breakfast table.â
Stephen was stamping down his tobacco. âI think sheâd be a fine breakfast companion,â he put in.
Cam shuddered. âToo lively by half.â
âI disagree about Bonnington as well,â Stephen continued, putting a match to his pipe. âFrom everything I know, heâs head over heels in love with your wife, and he considers himself lucky to have her.â
âBut heâs only beginning to realize what he has,â Cam put in. âThe devil! Didnât I tell you not to smoke?â
âI didnât ask your permission. I only asked if you minded.â
âWell, I do mind. I hate that bloody smoke in my face.â
âWhatâs put you in such a foul mood, then?â
âBrandy,â Cam snapped at a footman. âFoul mood? Iâm perfectly cheerful. This is the real me, cousin. Youâve forgotten.â
âI didnât forget anything. I used to have to thrash you once a week after you turned six or so.â
âWhat I remember is trying to beat the tar out of you on your twelfth birthday.â
Stephen shuddered. âDo you remember the consequences? God, I thought your father would never let us out of that sanctuary.â
Camâs eyes darkened. âHe was a nasty piece of work, my father. Iâd forgotten about that part. Spent all day in there, didnât we?â
âAnd half the night. It was dark and cold. I remember getting terribly hungry.â
âI just remember being terrified. Heâd told me that my mother would haunt me whenever I was naughty. I was frightened by dark places for years.â
Stephen put down his pipe and looked across the table. âThat was unconscionable, Cam. Did he really make your mother out as a ghost?â
âUnfortunately. Took me years to get over the idea that my mother might jump out of a closet dressed in a white sheet and scare the living daylights out of me.â Cam helped himself to a glass of brandy from an offered tray.
âI had no idea. I remember you telling joke after joke to make me stop crying. I felt miserably ashamed because you never shed a tear, even though you were five years younger than I.â
âYou were visiting for the summer, werenât you?â
Stephen nodded. âMy parents went to the continent.â
âI was used to it by then. But I still have a horror of the dark. And I still tell jokes to make it palatable.â
Stephen drew on his pipe, his eyes somber and kind.
Cam shifted his gaze. He hated pity, but he hated a false front even more. In the life heâd carved for himself, there was no place for lies only to protect his consequence. That had been his fatherâs specialty.
âShe doesnât blame you for never coming back,â Stephen said, after a pause.
âWho? Gina? Why on earth should she?â
âBecause youâre her husband, you ass. Because you hadâhaveâresponsibility for her, and youâve neglected it for years.â
âWhat are you talking about? Iâve never taken a haâpenny from the estate, you know. I swore to the old man in
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