“Oh?” Rohan said, taking a step forward. He felt Susannah’s hand on the back of his coat, and slowly stepped back again. “Whom do you bed, Tibolt? The wife of the local wine merchant? The draper’s wife?”
“I am discreet, Rohan, unlike you, unlike our wretched mother. I d
o not flaunt myself or my liaisons. Unlike you, I do not bask in the reflected infamy of our parents.” Tibolt walked quickly to his brother, clutching at his arm. He glanced briefly at Susannah, his mouth twisting with revulsion. “Listen, Rohan, just send her away. Isn’t that for the best? You are the head of the family. You owe us all protection. We are your responsibility.”
“And what if one of the family is involved in villainy, Tibolt? Am I not also responsible for righting any wrongs committed by one of the family?”
“What villainy? What wrongs? What George did was a boy’s prank, no more. It wasn’t as if he hurt a young lady. Just look at her, Rohan, you can tell by her eyes that she is wicked, that she knows exactly what she is doing. Look at her clothing—a strumpet’s gown, a strumpet’s bonnet. I’m only surprised that she hasn’t weighted her face down with cosmetics. Ah, just look at her. She is now gloating that we are disagreeing.”
“Is she? I hadn’t realized that you saw so very much, Tibolt. Her eyes look wicked? Really?” He turned to Susannah and gently cupped her face in his hands. “No weight there with cosmetics. Are you a strumpet in an innocent’s clothing?”
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his face.
“Are you gloating?”
“Actually I cannot bear this any longer. It is too much. Please.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I will bring this awful business to a close.” He looked back at his brother, the young man he’d thought he knew so very well. Had he been right about the character of anyone in his family? Perhaps his aunt Miranda—that maiden lady of so many good works—was really the jade of Brighton? He turned back to his brother.
“Did you know, Tibolt, that you are an uncle?”
“My God, Rohan, you have sired an illegitimate child?”
“No, George did. He and Susannah had a baby girl—Marianne. She’s three and a half years old. Did not George tell you?”
“No. He probably didn’t think it mattered. Why would he care? Doubtless the child wasn’t his.”
“That would be difficult to swallow, since Marianne is the very image of George. One could easily take you or me for the father as well.”
Tibolt drew a deep breath, a calming breath. He moved away from his brother to the narrow windows that gave out onto the small vicarage garden. It was a paltry garden, Susannah could see that from her vantage—overgrown, too much ivy that was choking out the poor rosebushes.
“You speak of all my responsibilities as the head of this family, Tibolt. Tell me, then, why didn’t you or George inform me of this sham marriage? If he wanted out of it, why didn’t he simply come to me and tell me?”
Tibolt said very simply, “He knew you would kill him. I agreed with him.”
Did his brothers see him as both a satyr and an avenging saint? How could that be possible? On the other hand, George had been right—he would have killed him. Rohan sighed. “George wasn’t so stupid after all. Yes, I would have been very tempted to kill him. But he died all by himself, leaving a wife and a daughter.”
“She is not his damned wife!”
“She believed she was. Let’s cut to the chase. I would like you to meet my wife, Susannah Carrington, Lady Mountvale. Ah, and Tibolt, I recommend that you monitor the words you wish to speak before they come out of your mouth. I am feeling particularly violent at the moment. As a matter of fact, I cannot recall when I have felt more violent than I do at this exact instant. Heed me well.”
24
TIBOLT WASN’T CAPABLE OF SAYING ANYTHING AT ALL. He stared with perfect horror from his brother to Susannah and back again. He swallowed, opened his mouth, then closed it again. “No,” he said finally, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “It can’t be true. Why are you torturing me like this, Rohan? It’s true that I knew what George was doing, but he was my brother. He has our parents’ blood. He had this vile streak. I had to protect him.”
“How many other girls were there, Tibolt?”
“But I didn’t—”
Rohan moved so quickly, Susannah had only an instant to suck in her breath. He had his brother by his collar and he was shaking him. “Listen to me, you pious little sod. How many girls did George lead through that sham marriage routine with McNally?”
“Three. Tarts, all of them. Who cares?”
Rohan took a step back and struck him clean in the jaw. Tibolt collapsed where he stood. Rohan stood looking down at him, rubbing his knuckles.
Susannah was shaking her head back and forth. “Three? He did this to two other girls? But how did you know?”
He saw that she was trembling with shock, with humiliation, then with pure rage. He gathered her to him and kissed her temple. “It wasn’t much of a guess really, Susannah. I’m so very sorry about all this.” He held her more firmly to him. She embraced him tightly. His pain was palpable, as was hers. Susannah spoke first, her voice low and quiet. “It will be all right,” she said against his neck. “I swear it will be all right. We will see all this through together.”