Lady in Rags

Chapter Twenty-One: Introspection

His brother was staying at The White Hart, the second inn at which he inquired. Neil passed the innkeeper a coin as he opened the door of his brother's suite. His brother was inside, lying on the bed with a book in his hand. He sat up, squinted, and then, eyes widening, ripped off his reading glasses and stared.

Neil shut the door behind him.

"Neil," Richard said numbly.

Neil came forward and sat on a chair, his hands drooping between his knees. For a moment, he couldn't say anything. He had known exactly what he was going to say, but the words just wouldn't come out. It had been eight years. Even youth had never been kind to Richard, but now – his thick mop of dark hair was thinning, the curls lying limp over his brow. There were sagging, heavy lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before – lines that spoke of a world-weariness that went soul-deep. Since when had he needed glasses? Had the skin beneath his chin always drooped like that?

"Your looks haven't improved either," Richard said sourly, reading his expression.

Neil shook himself. "What happened to you?"

"I grew up." Richard scrutinized Neil. "Your hair went gray."

"Yours went thin."

"How did it turn gray? She said it had – she let much slip." Richard's lips twisted in the ever-familiar not-smile that Neil hated so much to see. So he hadn't changed – inside.

"She is my wife," Neil said coldly. "You will call her Mrs Armiger."

Richard began to massage his right knee, through his pant leg, frowning. "Didn't you think of us at all, when you married her?" he asked peevishly.

"No. I didn't."

"You should have." Richard looked up resentfully. "Haven't you the sense to realize that I'm hardly likely to find any woman at all to marry me – and that you're the last son father has? If our title goes to a cardsharp's daughter's son!"

"What a stain that will be on the snow-white annals of British nobility," Neil said dryly.

Richard flushed. "It's the look of the thing, Neil. For a man like you to marry so low, and through entrapment—"

"There was no entrapment," Neil interrupted. "I chose to marry her."

"Why?"

For a moment, Neil couldn't answer. He licked his lips, trying to think of why. If he knew – if he knew –

"Was it a reflex?" his brother asked acidly. "God knows when I saw her I considered – well I didn't consider marrying her, but I did consider other things. You don't have to marry girls to do that to them, you know."

"And you don't have to pay girls to do that to them, either," Neil parried. He was too used to his brother's keen tongue to rise to it, but he could see that had left a blow: Richard flushed. With a casual, scientific curiosity, Neil wondered if it was because Richard did pay women to sleep with him, or if it was because he didn't and was still a virgin. That any woman had willingly and freely slept with his brother was not something Neil could believe: Richard was too full of sharp edges to have ever known what it was to love, even if only for a night.

"I just wish you'd thought about it," Richard said bitterly. "Your children with this woman will carry on our name and title. And look at her father!"

Neil pressed his lips together tightly. He didn't care about the family name or title. He hadn't cared about them for a long time.

"Why don't you marry Lady Brocket," he said bitterly. "Go and have a thousand children with her. I don't care. But leave off my wife. I came here to tell you that. I came here to tell you that you're an absolute cad for coming up with this plan, and that even if you see it through, I'll marry her again as soon as she's twenty-one. So you needn't bother with it. Cad."