“It resembles Madame Le Brun’s work, but it is not a composition I have seen before. A copy, I suppose.”
“No, indeed, an original.”
“Then why have I not seen it before?”
“Because it has never been engraved,” Nico said. “It was a private commission. Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun was a personal friend to the Queen, and this was a personal painting. Just for her.”
Augustus’s jaw dropped. “But how do you come to have such a thing?”
“A gift to my mother,” Nico said briefly. “You understand.”
Titus didn’t understand, and nor, clearly, did Augustus. “A gift to your mother? But who is your mother, Mr. er—?”
He’d all too clearly forgotten Nico’s name. Titus said, “The Comte de La Motte, Augustus.”
“De Valois-Saint-Rémy de La Motte,” Nico said. “My mother was Jeanne de La Motte.”
He didn’t say it with anything like the exuberance with which he had introduced himself to Titus. He sounded almost embarrassed, and Titus instantly saw why, because Augustus gave a huff of contempt. “The thief and harlot? That is not a relation to which I would care to admit.”
“Augustus!” Titus shouted. “What the devil? Howdareyou speak like that to my guest!”
Augustus recoiled in shock, but recovered at once. “Are you aware who that woman was?”
“Yes! She was Nico’s mother, and you are grossly insulting!” He was on his feet, somehow. “Apologise at once. Apologise or get out of my house! I will not stand for this!”
His brother looked like he’d been savaged by a lapdog. “I daresay I spoke in haste. However—”
“Not ‘however’! For God’s sake, man, just admit you were at fault for once in your life!”
Augustus shoved his own chair back and stood. “I am the head of the family, and you will not take that tone with me!”
“I will take what tone I please in my own house!”
Augustus was going the ugly red of haematite. “You are offensive and ill conditioned. Is this a way to treat your brother?”
“You invited yourself to stay and came into my house as if you owned it. You have insulted my friend, complained about everything I have offered you, and demanded my money,” Titus said furiously. “So I might ask you the same question, except I already know this is how you treat your brothers. It’s why Vespasian will never speak to you again. It’s why Hadrian is dead!”
Augustus’s head went back as though Titus had slapped him. Titus had shocked himself almost as much. They stared at one another in ringing silence for a few seconds; then Augustus said, voice shaking, “That is unjust.”
“You took everything Father did as your due, and supported him at every turn, even when he bullied Hadrian into the Navy. You could have stopped it. If you had told him no, you could have stopped it!”
“It was a good profession! He had to do something!”
That too-familiar justification threw oil on the fire of Titus’s long-suppressed rage. “It was done to get rid of him! He was fourteen and terrified, and we had quite enough money that he did not have to be sent to sea!”
“You were a child; you do not know anything. Father had extended himself greatly to buy Nether Field. He was obliged to reduce the household expenses—”
“He didn’thaveto buy that land! He chose to buy it soyoucould be a landed gentleman—”
“It was for the family!”
“What family? The rest of us were cleared out for it! He consigned me and Vespasian to drudgery, and sent Claudius and Hadrian to their deaths!”
“You were all set to good professions! He secured your futures!”
“Well, he certainly secured Hadrian’s,” Titus snarled. He was shaking with anger, wanting to use the long-suppressed words like whips.
Augustus’s eyes were bulging. “That was the chance of wartime. What do you suggest he should have done? Did you all want to sponge off the family forever?”