Forever changed by his capture at the hands of the French, Viscount Carlisle is no longer the naive, carefree idiot who left the shores of England. He has spent eight years trying to find the man who betrayed him, but his plans are thwarted by the t...
"Are those for me?" Sylvie asked Raphael through her sore throat, tucked into her bed. She eyed the seashells in her friend's hand with some measure of greed.
"I got all these for you. Here you go, Sylvie," Raphael told a very sad Sylvia Heartwood as she pouted at her brother and friend. The seashells Rafe had collected for her were poor consolation indeed for the fact that she had been left out of their fun. "Oh, don't cry, you couldn't come swimming because of your cold!"
"Sylvie, you're just a crybaby and big boys don't want to play with whiny little girls like you," her older brother offered with a taunting smile and rolled his eyes.
"I am not a crybaby!" She hissed through her stuffed nose. "I'm only sad because Raphael is leaving for Eton tomorrow and I am sick and can't play with him."
"Yes, you are. Stupid Sulky Sylvie," he stuck out his tongue and did a mocking dance.
"No, I'm not! Rafe tell him!" Sylvie's eyes were already wet because of her cold but now they stung with tears.
"Err..... I want to be neutral?" Rafe replied diplomatically.
"Cryyyybabbyyyyy," Thomas sang as he pulled another face at her, ducking as she chucked a pillow at his face.
"I will tell Papa and he will send you to bed without dessert," she threatened, her eyes watering even as she spoke.
"Oh, so you're a crybaby and a tattletale?"
"Oh, do stop it, Tom," Rafe intervened once the tears really did begin to spill over her eyes, "she's sick and she's been stuck inside all day. Would you rather play house, Sylvie?"
"I don't want to play house!" Thomas protested, "She always makes me the dog!"
"Well, you can't very well be my husband, we're siblings!" Sylvie shot back defensively.
"Why can't I be a brother?"
"Brothers don't live with their married sisters!"
"Well, why does Raphael have to be your husband? He can be our brother and we can all live together as unmarried siblings."
"Well, that's no fun! That's just our everyday life," she frowned at the two of them, and then in consolation, she offered: "You can be the horse?"
"I'm not going to be the horse! We'll play something else."
"Didn't your papa buy you a new checkers board a few days ago?" Rafe said suddenly, looking pleased that he had found a solution, "Shall we have a go at it?"
"Oh, I suppose we could. I'm not very good at it, though."
"Don't worry, Sylvie," Rafe mussed her hair with brotherly affection and then pushed up her spectacles that were slipping down her nose. "I'll teach you."
Raphael was an ideal teacher, both patient and kind. Unlike Tom, he didn't call her silly names or make fun of her when she made a silly move. Alas, such was the curse of being a little girl with an older brother; they would defend you against the mean boys in the village and then turn around and be mean to you all by themselves.
"Do you have to go to Eton," she pouted in dismay at Raphael as he tidied up the board. Thomas had gone in search of snacks so the two were alone for a moment. She could not have risked asking such a question in front of Thomas for he would have made fun of her for being sentimental. "Already you spend half the year in Italy with your mama. I will never see you any more if you go to Eton."
"I'll come for a few weeks every summer and some winters too," he promised.
"It's not going to be the same."
"Well, I'm almost twelve now. I need to grow up and learn to be a man. A Viscount has many responsibilities, you know. A Marquess even more so."
"Will you still be my friend?"
"Of course I will, Sylvie. Always."
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I won't cry. Tom will never stop teasing me if I do, Sylvia Heartwood told herself sternly as she said her final goodbyes to her very best friend in the world. He looked so polished and handsome, the spitting image of his father who was standing by the carriage looking at the three of them with a fond expression. But Eton is so far away.
"Alright, Sylvie, I'll see you during my winter break. Don't eat cook's jam tarts without me," he ruffled her hair and pushed her glasses up her nose. And then caught sight of the tears threatening to drop. "Aww, don't cry, Sylvie. It's just a few months for the first term."
And then Sylvie sniffled, losing the battle to hold her tears at bay. "You're going to make all sorts of new friends and you won't love me anymore!"
Soon she was enveloped in Rafe's arms as he gave her a tight squeeze. "You and Tom will always be the best of my friends, Sylvie. Even though you are a girl."
"You'll write to me?"
"I promise," he swore solemnly, and only then did she unhand him.
