“My brother, Albert, came along a few years after me, unplanned, unwanted really, and turned over to the servants as well. Consistent of them, so I didn’t realize yet that my parents simply didn’t like children, at least had no time to share with them. They were never at home, after all, so neither of us was actually ignored, it was more like we were—forgotten. I even became close to Albert briefly, before they took him away.”

“Away?”

“With them. You see, by his fourth year, he became the ‘court jester.’ It’s how I’ve always thought of him. He went out of his way to amuse people—and succeeded. He was quite good at it. While I, on the other hand, had no such qualities. I was too serious, too reserved. If I ever laughed as a child, I don’t remember it.

“On one of my parents’ rare visits, they discovered this. They had brought home guests. Albert managed to make most of these guests laugh. He was entertaining. My parents suddenly found him of value in their socializing, and worth spending time with, so of course, he must travel with them.”

“But not you,” she said in a quiet tone, not a question, an obvious summation.

“No, certainly, I was the heir and already being tutored. And I wasn’t amusing. But they did finally bring Albert home, when he had to begin his own schooling. And they came to visit much more often, stayed for months at a time now. They missed Albert, after all. And when he wasn’t in school, they took him off again with them.”

“On holidays,” she guessed, holidays like Christmas.

“Yes.”

Larissa felt like crying—for him. He had said it all matter-of-factly. It meant nothing to him now. But dear Lord, it must have bothered him as a child, when his brother was lavished with attention, and he was given none. Inadequate, he had mentioned. Yes, he would have felt that, would have felt left out, unloved, unwanted . . .

She cried anyway, couldn’t stop it despite trying to, silent tears, at least, that she was able to quickly swipe away before he noticed—or he was pretending not to notice. He probably hadn’t liked having to offer comfort to her that afternoon, and didn’t want to have to do so again. He wouldn’t attribute her tears to anything to do with him, thankfully. Why would he, when they barely knew each other? He’d think she was thinking of her father again—if he even noticed the new tears.

Stupid, stupid emotions, to have her crying like a ninny so frequently these days. But she felt so sorry for Lord Everett, to have had such a horrid childhood, such a cold and unloving family.