Algernon flicked his gaze to his brother, but he did not remove his hand from Beatrice’s back.
“You are, are you not? Now stop speaking to me and speak to her,” he murmured back.
He heard Henry make a sound of annoyance, and Algernon smirked as Henry then stepped around their backs to go toBeatrice’s other side. He did not miss how Henry took her arm in his, and his smirk quickly dropped.
Mine.
Algernon mentally crushed the word at once, both startled and annoyed by such a pervasive thought. It was not true after all. It could not be.
“Beatrice, darling, has my overbearing older brother ever told you why he is so obsessed with meals?” Henry asked, his tone conversational.
At once Algernon stiffened, nearly missing a step. His head snapped with a quickness toward his brother, and he peered above Beatrice’s head to cast his brother a glare.
“Henry,” he said gruffly, but it was too late. As he glanced down at Beatrice, he saw that she was already intrigued by the story.
“He has not,” she replied matter-of-factly, glancing up at him.
He shook his head, silently begging them both to drop the subject.
“It is not a suitable topic for such a leisurely day,” he insisted.
“Oh, come, brother, it is a story that is sure to warm any woman’s heart,” Henry urged. “Plus it will be good for her to know that her troll of a host has a soft side.”
“Oh, I do not think—” Beatrice began to say, but Henry’s began his story before she could finish.
“When our father died, a part of our mother’s mind went along with him,” Henry started, a bit too cheerily in Algernon’s opinion. “She always fancied me more than Algernon, you see, even before our father’s passing. However, as her mind started to decline, I believe she began to see me as more of a doll she kept with her than the living son she gave birth to.”
“Henry, I do not think—” Algernon tried to intervene, but it was too late. He could see in his brother’s eyes that Henry was jabbing back at him for making him feel poorly about the thorns.
“She forgot to feed me,” Henry curtly went on. “Barely remembered to feed herself in fact. This went on for days until Alice became worried and went to Algernon for help. He was so busy, you know, trying to clean up the mess our father had left behind.”
“Henry, enough,” Algernon warned.
“Anyway, my darling brother, the bleeding heart that he is, took it upon himself to remedy the situation,” Henry continued, a hint of bitter glee in his tone. “He would make us sit, no matter what, and watch us like a hawk stalks a mouse while we ate whatever was brought to us. He did this for every meal, rightup until our mother, God rest her soul, joined our father in the afterlife. Ever since, he’s been quite obsessed with the idea of everyone eating when he demands it. As if we without him making us, we would starve before his very eyes.”
Algernon’s jaw ticked as he gnashed his teeth together and shook his head, fury tunnelling through his veins and threatened to burst on his tongue. He had shared part of his life with Beatrice the other night, but this was a bit too much. Especially as memories of such a time came flooding back to him.
He knew Henry was trying to goad him, but what his little brother did not know was how frail and sickly he had looked when Algernon first went to remedy the issue. He had been twelve, but he was already a lean boy, so even just a week of starvation had greatly changed his appearance. Hollow eyes. Yellowed skin. Chapped lips.
Algernon had been… terrified.
Now, though, he was fuming, his hands trembling with the effort it took not to reach out and cuff Henry over the head.
Then suddenly, something warm and small wound around his back. Long, nimble fingers wrapped around his side, and at once he felt that anger start to fade. He dared a glance down at Beatrice and found her blue eyes full of not pity but compassion and pride.
“I have not found your brother to be a troll,” Beatrice said, more to Algernon than Henry. “In fact, the more I get to know him, the more I understand his reasoning.”
Algernon’s jaw relaxed, and he gave her a look of gratitude.
“Now, I do not wish to speak of such downtrodden moments,” she expressed, her tone amusingly commanding and matter of fact. “It is far too pretty a day to not revel in its presence.”
“Agreed,” Algernon replied then felt some of his peace drift away as he felt Beatrice’s touch slip from his back. Still, he did not remove his hand from the small of her back, nor did she make any move to remove it herself.
“Now come, you two looked rather deep in conversation as I first approached you,” he went on. “What were you discussing?”
“Henry was telling me of the wonderful time he had at the most recent ball he attended,” Beatrice explained, once more creating a bridge between him and his little brother. “Were you not, Henry?”
Though she was facing Henry, Algernon was sure she was giving him a gentle but insistent look to play nice.