Page 33 of All My Broken Dreams

Robbie’s head was teeming with questions. “Harrycontacted you? He didn’t tell me that and Harry told me everything.”

“Nevertheless, that is what happened. He found a letter written to his mother from her brother a few weeks beforehe died. Bryan Stewart had Stage Four cancer and wanted to make amends. In his letter, he begged her forgiveness for his interference. He was grieved he had deprived her boy of his father and mentioned both of us by name. Harry looked me up and wrote to me in care of Locksley Hall.”

“When was this?” Her tongue felt like cloth.

“Last December. I offered to pay for his tuition to the Academy if he wished to make my acquaintance. I understood his adopted father had passed away and this had a great effect on him. He wrote back, accepting my offer and we began the process for enrolment.”

“This is impossible to believe. We contacted the university when we didn’t hear from him and they said they didn’t have a student by that name at Locksley Hall.”

“So I understand,” The Black said smoothly. “Deacon said that gave you cause for concern. Our system at Locksley Hall Academy is slightly different from what you might expect to find in North America. We have a probationary period for all students who may not meet our level for acceptance. Rather than throw away thousands of pounds in tuition on a program that doesn’t suit, students are offered a grace period. Harry was nearing the end of his when he left the university–which he was perfectly within his rights to do.”

Robbie squinted, trying to make sense of this. “My mother never mentioned an older brother, not once in my entire life.”

“Bryan was ten years older and he destroyed her. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t speak of him. He despised me because I came from a poor but noble family. Our clan lost their fortune over the years, defending king and country. Defending the likes of the Stewarts who profited from our sacrifice and Bryan Stewart hated me for it.”

“No, no, no, no! She was dead set against my brother coming here! She never wanted him to meet you. She was terrified of you.”

“Bryan poisoned her mind against me with his lies. I wrote her dozens of letters that were returned. I have saved them all if you’d like to take a look. They confirm my story.”

“No, no. If Harry is your son….” Robbie touched her forehead, suddenly feeling woozy. “He is one of you. Blood Banner–this order I keep hearing about.”

“He is,” Bannerman said. “He is also my half-brother. So you see, we are as concerned about his welfare as you are, Miss Listowel. We are on the same side.”

The room began to slowly turn. She sought Deacon’s face and he moved swiftly to her side.

“Robbie, you’re bleeding.”

She touched the divet under her nose and her fingers came away streaked with crimson.

“That happens sometimes,” she said shakily. “It’ll stop soon. I’ll be alright.”

“Go home, girl,” Gunner ordered. “You’ve heard enough. Harry was one of us. There is nothing more we can tell you.”

“Shut up, Gunner,” Bannerman barked. “Can’t you see she’s upset?” He turned to Robbie, his handsome face creased with concern. “Let Deacon escort you home; get some rest. We’ll talk again tomorrow. You’ll be safe with him. He’s not the brightest bulb in the box, but he is dependable.”

“Like an ox is our Deacon,” Falcon quipped and they all laughed.

Nauseated and nearly faint, Robbie turned blindly to the door and in a flash, she was scooped up in Deacon’s arms. He carried her out of the room without a word and she didn’t object. Her head was pounding with stress which she knew was going to make her nosebleed worse.

“Did you know?” she asked when they were outside in the hall. She clung to his neck, trying not to cry.

“No,” he replied grimly. “I didn’t know any of it.”

He carried her from the mansion, through the front door. She didn’t have the strength or wit or power to examine the route or her surroundings. There was no point because Harry was one of them. He left of his own accord and he wasn’t coming back. He had a father and a brother–he didn’t need a mentally ill dependent sister tying him down.

The world is lit by lightning. Blow out your candles, Laura….

Sarah Stewart was right. Robbie didn’t have what it took to find her son.

She was not one of them.

He carried her through the night-silent streets back to his lodgings. The snow was falling faster and thicker than before. If this kept up, he thought absently, they’d have a white Christmas.

Thinking about Christmas was a distraction.

Robbie wasn’t heavy but his strength to carry her came from a source that was not within him. He was as shaken up as she was by what just happened–doubly so because he knew Harry Listowel was dead.

“I’m going to have to go home without him,” she said, her voice muffled against his wool coat. “I can’t face her.”

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