There came the faint click of the door closing, and by the slight groan of the plank floors, he proved as obliging in his willingness to listen to that order as her mother invariably did.

“I deserve that.” His voice came just over her shoulder. “I haven’t been the best of big brothers.”

“Or friends.” She directed that addition to the windowpanes. The glass reflected her brother’s visage, and she studied him. He had his hat in his hands and was twisting the article.

“No, I haven’t been the friend you deserve,” he murmured.

“Not to me.” Lettie shoved herself upright and swung herself around, facing him. “To Anthony.” She paused. “Or me. Both of us. You were wronged, but he was, too. Mother went to him. Mother enlisted his efforts. She played on his weakness, his friendship for you, and made him think he was saving you. Mother did that.” She braced for the stunned look in his eyes. That didn’t come. Shock slammed into her. “You…knew that? You knew he was manipulated by our mother, and you still treated him so?”

Her brother’s cheeks went ruddy. “That doesn’t forgive what he did.”

“It most certainly does! He was manipulated, Rhys. He was young and a friend to you, and Mother played on his friendship and loyalty to you.”

Some of the color leached from his cheeks. Guilt. Good. He should feel guilty. At last, she was reaching him.

“You didn’t think of that, did you?” she said. “Well, mayhap you should have. Mayhap if you’d listened to him all those times he tried to visit, or if you’d ever gone to him and asked why, or if you’d even for one moment”—she held her thumb and forefinger up, pressing them nearly together—“for one single, tiny moment, you would have understood why he acted as he did. And my God, he was sixteen, Rhys. Still in university, and yet, you’d sever your relationship with him so easily. You’d sever—” My relationship with him.

Aware of her brother’s probing, piercing eyes on her, Lettie cut herself off from saying more.

For, it hadn’t been Rhys’ decision to walk away that day in Hyde Park. It had been Anthony’s. Anthony had made it clear she was a burden. Anthony had ordered her to leave him be.

With a shuddery sigh, she drew her legs up to her chest and stared out the window once more.

Rhys came over and motioned to the side of the bench she’d not taken. “May I?”

She shrugged. Dropping her cheek upon her knee, she stared intently at the window.

“You are right,” Rhys murmured.

“Oh, I know that.”

The window reflected her brother’s smile.