The Countess Conspiracy Read Online Free PDF Page A

air. “That’s the end of it. You should never think that I’m too busy for you, Benedict. Or for Harry.”
    Benedict let out a long, slow breath, but he still didn’t glance Sebastian’s way. He simply picked up the kettle and poured a little water into the pail. He mixed the hot and cold waters with his hand, testing the temperature as if Sebastian hadn’t spoken. But Sebastian could see the expression on his face. His brother looked like he’d been mounted and stuffed. As if Sebastian had just made a dreadful
faux pas.
    “Harry needs someone solid,” his brother finally said to his pail of water. “Someone respectable.” He twisted his lips into a smile, but still didn’t meet Sebastian’s eyes. “You’re an amazing godfather, Sebastian. The best uncle Harry could hope for. You’ll buy Harry his first horse and take him to his first gentleman’s club. But a godfather is not a parent. And you…”
    He spread his hands as if to sketch the dimensions of a widening gulf.
    “Yes?” Sebastian said. “What about me?”
    That stuffed look became more pained. “Don’t make me say it, Sebastian.”
    “Come, Benedict. I’m not that bad. I’ve never outspent my income, nor drunk to excess—at least, not since I was fifteen, and that was at your wedding. I’ve fathered no children outside of wedlock.”
    “Not for lack of trying,” his brother muttered.
    Now was not the time to educate his brother on the ways to avoid that particular risk.
    “I do not use opium,” Sebastian continued. “Nor do I despoil my servants. I have never killed a man. I haven’t even wounded anyone seriously. And I love Harry. You know that. I want him.”
    His brother shook his head. “We’ll both be happier if we don’t have this conversation, Sebastian. Don’t force it.” He stood, picked up the bucket, and trudged into the stable.
    Sebastian jumped to his feet and followed after.
    “I’m not without faults, I know, but—”
    His brother straightened and turned to him. “It was a very nice list you made just now. You’re right about one thing: As scoundrels go, you’re relatively benign. But did you notice that every item on your list was something you had not done? You haven’t drunk to excess. You don’t have creditors. Tell me, what
have
you accomplished?”
    Sebastian stared at Benedict. It had been so long since anyone had said that to him—so long since his dearest relations lectured him to make something of himself that at first, Sebastian thought he’d misunderstood.
    “I beg your pardon?” he asked. And that’s when he remembered: His greatest accomplishment was a lie, too.
    But Benedict didn’t know that. “Oh, yes.” His brother’s lips thinned. “You’ve championed those odd theories of yours. Three-quarters of respectable England hates you.”
    “Half,” Sebastian replied with a smile. “It’s really only half. Judging by my correspondence, it may be as little as forty-eight percent. And of those, only a small number want to cause me bodily harm. The rest just wish to have me gagged or thrown in prison.”
    Benedict frowned, as if he didn’t realize the last comments were a joke. “There’s no point in splitting hairs over the precise percentage. What portion of the country even mildly dislikes Harry’s grandmother?”
    “Most of the country has never heard of her.”
    “Your infamy,” Benedict said sharply, “hardly recommends you. Years ago, I told you it would cause problems for you, but you didn’t listen then.”
    Sebastian hadn’t thought it relevant. What did it matter, if people he didn’t give one fig about didn’t care for him? He’d never realized that his brother stood among the ranks of those who disliked him. Benedict had made a few offhand remarks, but what older brother worth his salt would pass up the chance to make snide comments? But then, Benedict hardly knew the man Sebastian had become. Was it any surprise that he’d been taken in by the role