The Countess Conspiracy

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, that’s how it is! I didn’t beat you, did I?”

“Ah.” The hesitation was palpable. He shrugged, noncommittally. “Of course you did.”

“You let me win. All these years, I thought…” Violet shook her head. “Well, that tears it. I refuse to let you call me ‘my lady’ when you falsely proclaimed me Croquet Championess all those years ago. If you are allowed to lie to me, you must call me Violet.”

He smiled at her again. “It’s lovely to see you, Violet. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the visit.”

She snorted. “You always were too kind for my tastes.”

“I know,” he said gamely. “It’s one of the reasons I never made any effort to win you.”

Her lips twitched. “One of the other reasons being that you were married by the time I came out.”

“Yes,” Benedict agreed. “And also because my brother was in love with you.” He smiled. “You were the only thing that Sebastian ever wanted and failed to get. You have no idea how much I appreciated you for that.”

About that…

Violet swallowed. She wasn’t good at cajoling people or getting them to see her way of thinking. She was very good at browbeating them, but then, Benedict had never been susceptible to browbeating. And even she would hesitate before berating a man with a bad heart.

“When I was younger,” she said slowly, “I always hoped you were hiding some horrid secret. You were too nice.” She sniffed. “You have no idea how annoying it is that your horrid secret is a heart complaint, and not, for instance, a double murder committed by moonlight.”

“Gruesome,” he commented. “I’m desolate that I’m unable to oblige you.”

“I know,” she said. “It was a foolish thought. You used to go out of your way to spring the gamekeeper’s traps whenever you saw them. You couldn’t even bear the thought of seeing a rabbit in pain. That’s why I’m finding it difficult to understand what you’re doing now.”

He laughed. “I’m hardly doing anything at all. If you haven’t realized, I’m confined to my bed until further notice, and it’s incredibly boring.”

“I mean,” Violet said, “what you’re doing to Sebastian.”

His eyes narrowed. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. Instead, he sighed and looked away. “Ah,” he said. “I should have known my little brother would enlist help.” Benedict waved a hand at Violet. “Tell him that I won’t let him win by cheating.”

“He didn’t send me.” Violet swallowed. “In fact, I left him completely alone without any explanation. I just…” She swallowed. “I wanted to talk to you about your brother, because I am not sure that you know him.”

Outside the room, a stair creaked loudly.

Benedict made a rude noise. “I know my brother,” he said. “I know him quite well. I know how good he is at getting others to do his bidding. I know that he’s persuasive and good-looking, that he has only to snap his fingers and the world does as he wishes. He’s a flashy man. Everything comes easily to Sebastian, don’t you know? He drifts because of it—drifts from person to person, from thing to thing, gadding about like a butterfly.” But Benedict’s jaw set, as if he were trying to convince himself, not Violet.

“You know him better than that,” Violet said. “There was a point in my life when I was more ill than you are now. I could scarcely lift my head in bed. My husband was away on business, and I was trapped on his estate, far from my friends and my family. The only one who lived nearby was Sebastian.” She looked away. “He visited me every day. And do you know what he did?”

“What he did? No. But I know precisely why he did it,” Benedict said stiffly. “And—your pardon, my lady—but you have been married. It’s obvious to me what he wanted.”

“He wanted to make me laugh.” She speared Benedict with her gaze. “It was the only thing I had to look forward to, lying in bed without the strength to even hold a cup of water. I would sleep and wake and look at the clock and wonder when he was going to come.”

“Yes,” Benedict said uncomfortably. “I suppose…”

“If you think he wanted to seduce me when I was too ill to move, you’re awful.”

Benedict looked away. “I suppose.” He sighed. “No. I know.”

“You had a chance to see what Robert and Oliver are like,” Violet said. “But I don’t know if you know what they would be like without Sebastian. They’re both so serious.” She made a face. “Everything is a matter of life and death to them. You should see what happens when Sebastian arrives. I’ve watched them argue a point back and forth for three hours. The instant Sebastian comes in the room, he makes fun of them, cracks a joke at his own expense, and in the next minute, they’ve figured it all out.”

“Yes,” Benedict said again, this time a little more dryly. “I am aware that my brother fancies himself a jester.”

“A jester?” Violet said. “No. He’s the one who connects everything. When he walks into a room, everyone looks at him. Some of them hate him; some of them love him, but nobody ever looks at him with indifference. When I don’t know what I’m thinking about, when I’m stuck on some great problem, he’ll come over and somehow, every difficulty is smoothed away.”

Benedict let out a long breath. “I…” He shut his eyes. His voice faded to a whisper. “I know.”

“And it isn’t just me,” Violet said. “He makes people smile. Everyone. For all that you called him flashy, it’s not a flashy talent. It will never get his name on a placard—the other things he does will get him that. But that thing he does—making people smile—that is what makes the world worth anything at all. Sebastian will never fight wars, but it’s because of people like him that the rest of us don’t have to fight as many of them. He makes everyone around him more than what they are.”

Benedict sighed. “So,” he finally said glumly. “He got to you, too.” He shook his head. “I should have known.”

“Tell me, Benedict,” Violet said. “Several weeks ago, you told Sebastian that you would never trust him with your son.”