Severine shook her head, wincing at the mention of the old family fights. Andre had been mother’s favorite and her father had despised him. How many times had Father and Mother argued about Andre? Mother expecting Father to somehow love Andre when her brother had been determined to make an enemy of his stepfather.
“I miss your braids.”
Severine’s instinct was to run her fingers through her hair, but instead she said, “You look much the same, Andre.”
He laughed, and she didn’t blame him. She’d been kind. His eyes were red and his hair was a bit of a mess. He’d put on a bit of weight, but he just looked generally unhealthy. Had he been ill? She remembered a vain man who had already reached his adulthood. He’d never had time for her, and she’d never expected it of him. What would it be like now?
“I’m glad you’re back, Sevie. Maybe things will change now.”
There was no explanation, and she didn’t intend to ask for one.
“Brand says that he’s your servant and you’re in charge now. Per your father.”
Severine glanced at her brother and started down the hall again, signaling for Anubis to follow. “I had no idea of any such arrangements until Mr. Brand appeared at the convent.”
“I should have written to you, Sevie,” Andre said. “I suppose I didn’t know what to say. I had lost Mother, but I still had my father. You’d lost them both and then discovered their bodies. I—I should have been better.”
Severine glanced back at him. “Neither of us should be where we are, Andre. Mother would have still been relatively young if she hadn’t been murdered. My father was a vital man. None of us were ready for what happened and none of us knew how to handle it.”
He laughed darkly and then he asked, “Why are you comforting me? I’m the big brother here.”
Chapter Nine
Dinner was nearly silent. Severine glanced around the table, noting faces that she hadn’t seen since she was a child. Her grandmother was almost unchanged. Serene and calm, golden and beautiful, she showed no sign of her earlier anger and leaned charmingly towards Mr. Oliver, Mr. Thorne’s friend. Why Mr. Oliver, Severine wondered, rather than Mr. Thorne? Why was this fellow at the house at all?
She had yet to meet Mr. Oliver more than in passing, but perhaps it was Severine’s cousin, Florette, that had arranged his position of honor? Mr. Oliver seemed entirely at ease, she thought, as she sipped her wine, with her cousin on one side and her grandmother on another. Severine wasn’t all that surprised to see Florette without either parent present.
Severine’s brother snorted as he followed her gaze. “Jealous of her position at the head of the table?”
She turned slowly to her brother and answered honestly. “No.”
“Your father would be infuriated to see you where you are at this table and where Florette is. He told me once she was a will of wisp, and you were the fairy queen.”
Severine lifted a brow, finding his statement entirely unbelievable. “Florette was always like a miniature of Mama, even if she is Father’s niece rather than hers.”
“And you think he adored all there was about Mama? He barely liked her at the end.”
Severine met her brother’s gaze. “His body was over hers at the end. Protectively.”
Andre shuddered, but his words were steady. “The act of a Southern gentlemen. Nothing more. He’d have done the same for your — friend.” He used the same term Grandmère had before, and Severine scowled.
“I don’t want to hear that word again,” Severine hissed.
He smirked, but said, “Father would have protected any female.”
The wine flowed freely and she drank deeply with the next glance. One would think that her first dinner with her brother in a half-dozen years would be one that didn’t drive her to drown herself in drink.
She sighed and sipped again, glancing down at her plate. The roast beef was dry, the vegetables were somehow both soggy and burnt, the gravy was lumpy, and the roll was tough. Severine might have been the mistress of the house, or an approximation thereof, but she could have turned out a better meal if she cooked the food herself.
Mr. Thorne didn’t seem bothered as he popped a piece of a roll in his mouth. Neither did her cousin, Florette, who nodded at a servant and had her plate reloaded with another round of roast beef. Was it possible, she wondered, if only her plate was disgusting? She hadn’t been mindful of the other plates. Her brother’s was empty, so he hadn’t found anything wrong with the meal.
Her gaze moved to the fellow who was serving food, and when her gaze landed on him and lingered, he flushed deeply. She knew what she needed to know.
Severine shook her head and ignored the plate and the insult. From there, her gaze moved up the table to her grandmother, who lifted her glass at Severine with a smooth, genteel smile.
Severine didn’t bother to reply in any way. It was a matter to take up later. She turned back to her brother and asked, “How is your father?”
“Old, mean, angry.” Andre looked so disgusted when he said it, Severine flinched for him.
“He married again, didn’t he?”
“His wife is practically younger than you,” Andre told her as disgusted as before. “There’s two little girls.”
“How fun,” Severine said honestly and her brother’s expression said he didn’t see his other half-sisters’ existence the same way she did.
Her gaze moved to Clive and his brother, her cousin Erik, who had Lisette near them and were ignoring her. Given Lisette’s sour expression, Severine had
