“Lean back,” she ordered.
He raised his hand as if to ward off the scissors. “You aren’t angry at me, too, are you? I should know before I expose my throat to you.”
“How’s your wound?” she asked.
The humor died in his eyes. “Well enough.”
“Lean back.”
This time he did.
Justin had thick, shiny hair like Phillip’s. She cut as much of the beard away as she could before lathering his face with the soap.
Phillip returned. He filled his tankard and sat by the bar, watching sullenly. She hoped he remained that way. If her suspicions were correct, it would reinforce the point she wanted to make. She’d just prayed the twins would react in the way she anticipated.
After his initial nonsense, Justin turned out to be good-humored about the whole thing. As they waited for the lather to soften his whiskers, he said, “You’ve done this before.”
“I used to shave my father. He broke his arm once, and the task fell to me. It became so he liked it.” She picked up the razor. “Don’t say a word. Not while I have the razor at your throat.”
He pretended to gulp his distress, and Charlotte laughed. She set to work. She’d never shaved anyone with such thick whiskers, but she didn’t do a bad job of it. However, shaving Justin’s lip and around his nose was difficult. When she nicked him a second time, Phillip surprised her by saying, “Here, let me finish.”
Justin started to rise. “I don’t know if I want him close to my face with a sharp blade.”
The razor in his hand, Phillip pushed him back. “Relax. I haven’t killed you yet.”
“While you two bicker, I’m going to run upstairs.” Charlotte didn’t wait for an answer but went up to their room. She walked over to where the rectangular mirror hung over a washstand. Phillip would need this and, if her suspicions were correct, it would become very valuable.
As she reached for the mirror, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection. She looked tired, and, yes, a bit angry.
In the mirror she could see the bed behind her and the crumpled bed linens. She’d already gone too far. Her only hope was to trust in Phillip’s honor. Lowering the mirror, unable to stand the reflection of her own sad eyes, she left the room, plastering a smile on her face.
When she arrived back in the taproom, Phillip was done and starting to shave himself. He used her mirror to make quick work of the chore. Charlotte waited until he was done and then turned the mirror so the twins could see themselves in it side by side.
“Dear God,” Phillip said, the words bursting out of him.
Justin was speechless.
And Charlotte was very pleased with herself. Her suspicions had been correct. “Do you understand now?” she asked Justin.
All he could do was mutely nod in wonder.
They weren’t completely identical, but the family resemblance was astonishing. And any animosity between them evaporated instantly.
Chapter 16
Phillip looked to Charlotte with admiration. “You are amazing. How did you know when we couldn’t see it ourselves?”
“Only because you didn’t want to see it,” she demurred. “My sisters and I often don’t see how close we are in looks and action.”
He and Justin were not mirror images. There were differences. The skin beneath Justin’s beard looked silly it was so white and, because his hair was longer, he didn’t have as much gray at the temples. And perhaps, he lacked some of the lines in his face Phillip had, lines received under the weight of his responsibilities to his title, his family, and his country.
Not that Justin didn’t have his own characteristics of the life he lived. There was a scar on his cheek that was now noticeable without the beard. He noticed Phillip looking. “Lady Rowena chased me with a hoe.”
“She caught you.”
“I learned to run faster after that,” Justin assured him, and Phillip laughed before pulling out a chair for Charlotte to sit.
He took the chair beside her, setting the mirror aside. “Were they hard on you?”
Justin mulled the question before admitting, “I didn’t know any better. It was my life.”
“What had they told you about your parents?” Phillip asked. “Or how you came to be there?”
“No one claimed me, that was for certain,” Justin said. “I knew I was a bastard. Lady Rowena was the one who called our mother a whore. After that, I stopped asking questions.”
“They called our mother a whore?” Quiet rage shot down Phillip’s spine. “She wasn’t. Her family’s one of the oldest in England. You have the blood of kings in your veins.”
And that blood would tell. Yes, Justin irritated him, but there was much admired about him, too.
The innkeeper arrived with Charlotte’s breakfast, and then stopped dead in his tracks. He looked from Phillip to Justin and back again. “I knew you were brothers,” he mumbled, before hurrying to his kitchen.
“The resemblance is a bit unsettling,” Charlotte confided.
“Except I’m more handsome than he is,” Justin said with a wink, and Charlotte laughed—and Phillip was jealous, a jealousy he tamped down. He had no cause. Charlotte was his.
He forced a smile.
“So why did Lady Rowena kidnap me?” Justin asked.
“She’s mad,” Phillip answered.
“That’s always been obvious, but the laird dotes on his sister,” Justin agreed.
Phillip retold the story.
“It’s terrible what your father did to Lady Rowena,” Charlotte said soberly.
Phillip shrugged. “He wasn’t a warm man.” He’d never criticized his sire aloud, and it felt good finally to have those around him he could trust. It opened something inside him, something he’d not known had been closed.
He continued, “MacKenna feels Father took after her because of the family history. Apparently there was bad blood between MacKenna and Father in school. Those sorts of rivalries are hell, and I’ve met more than one man who carried a grudge from his school days. I’m also certain Father would have taken a bit of advantage of her. He knew how to abuse an enemy.”
Justin spoke. “It was whispered that Lady Rowena had once attempted to kill herself. They said she couldn’t have children. She was married once, but her husband brought her back.” He touched the scar on his cheek.
Thoughtfully, Charlotte said, “I suppose it is a sort of rough justice. She couldn’t have children, so she stole your father’s.”
“I find it difficult to pity her,” Phillip answered.
“There is one thing I don’t understand. When she came pretending to be the midwife, wouldn’t your father have recognized her?” Charlotte asked.
“Father traveled,” Phillip said. “He was rarely home, and we came before her term. He was on a special envoy for the king to the Netherlands at the time we were born. He always pushed the limits. When he received word that his heir was about to be born, he raced back to Darnal Abbey but, of course, he was too late. For that reason, I refused to go anywhere for Elizabeth’s confinement.”
“Elizabeth?” Justin asked.
“My wife,” Phillip answered, and then seeing his brother’s surprise, he said, “she died. In childbirth six years ago.”
Justin noticed that Miss Cameron tensed at the mention of Phillip’s wife, and he realized the lass’s heart was involved. He knew the signs. He’d been that way with Moira.
He liked Miss Cameron. By the easy way Phillip rested his arm on the back of her chair, he sensed she was important to his brother. But he sensed Phillip was oblivious to the depth of her feelings.
And it was very possible he didn’t return them.
Justin was all too sensitive to the pain that lay in that direction. Moira had been the one person he’d believed loved him, and she’d played him false.
Almost brutally, conscious of Miss Cameron the whole time, he asked Phillip, “Did you love your wife?”
His brother acted surprised that
he should put forth such a question. “Of course. She and I had known each other all our lives. She was Lord Lynnhall’s daughter. Very well connected.”
“Of course,” Justin answered, mimicking his brother’s English accent and realizing how wide the chasm between his life and Phillip’s truly was.
Phillip didn’t understand. He thought the mimicry was directed at him. With a heavy sigh, he said, “We come from different perspectives. There will be times when what I say sounds cold or indifferent. I don’t mean it as such. It’s just the way things are considered and evaluated by people of our class.” He leaned forward. “You may have been a blacksmith in one life, but in your new one, you shall find the world’s perception of you very different. Are you ready for this?”
Justin’s concern for Miss Cameron evaporated, replaced by his own challenges. “How can I be ready for what I don’t understand?” He shook his head, suddenly overwhelmed by just the possibilities. “I can’t be a duke. Look at these hands They’ve worked all their lives. You keep the title. I don’t want it.”
“Yes, but it is yours.” Phillip leaned one arm on the table. “If you don’t accept it, Charlotte is correct—MacKenna wins. He’ll have made a mockery of you and our family.”
“I’m no duke,” Justin said flatly.
“You aren’t alone either,” Phillip returned. “I’ll be beside you. There’s two of us now. We can see our way through this.”
Two of them.
Justin studied his brother a moment. He’d been alone all his life. An outsider. To be offered so much of what he could only imagine didn’t make sense, not according to his experience of life. “Why include me in this? Why give up what you have?”
“Why would I not?” Phillip countered.
“Because you are the one who loses,” Justin said.
“We’ve both lost,” Phillip answered, “but now we have the opportunity to correct that wrong.” Seeing the surprise on Justin’s face, he asked, “What? Do you believe you were the only one to suffer all these years? Riding to Scotland, after I’d received the letter, I often wondered what my life would have been like if you had lived. It isn’t easy always being singled out and being evaluated and judged. Father was a hard taskmaster. He offered little advice but plenty of criticism. In the end, I tossed aside most of what he’d preached. I’ve tried to make right decisions, but sometimes it is hard. They come at you from all sides asking for favors, soliciting your endorsement, begging of your time. I’ve no true friends. But now, I have a brother.”
“But you would give up the title?” Justin dared.
“Yes. To do less would be dishonorable. This isn’t your fault any more than it is mine.”
“How does one go about changing the title?” Miss Cameron asked.
“We’ll ask to rescind the letters of patent that passed it on to me,” Phillip answered. “It’s a matter of signing papers. Nothing more, nothing less. There will be talk. A scandal.” He looked down to where his hand rested on the table inches from Miss Cameron’s and glanced up to her, his expression one of wry self-knowledge. “I’ve learned to weather scandals.”
She pulled her hand back and crossed her arms against her chest.
Justin looked from one to the other, sensing an undercurrent.
Phillip answered his unspoken question. “I asked for her sister’s hand, and she jilted me.”
“Well, better to know before than after,” Justin said.
“Not in London,” Miss Cameron corrected him. “It’s a tiger pit there, with everyone using gossip to destroy people.”
“But you needn’t worry,” Phillip hurried to say. “We’ll get through this.”
“What do I care what a few wagging tongues have to say?” Justin said. “I’ll be a duke.”
His response appeared to shock his brother. Phillip’s brows came together as if he’d not ever heard anything so outlandish. “What?” Justin asked. “You can’t say that you worry about idle minds?”
Phillip opened his mouth as if to protest, then paused. “It’s different,” he said at last.
“Well, if you are imagining that I shall be taking stock of what gossips say, you’re wrong,” Justin said. “I had enough of that over Moira. My hide’s thick, and you’d best thicken yours, brother. I shall not back down from anyone.” He softened the words by adding with a smile, “And don’t worry. I’ll not be tossing you out of the ducal mansion.”
That made Phillip laugh, as he’d hoped it would. “I have no fear of that. After all, I will expect a very handsome recompense for my advice, brother. I have no desire to be the penniless sibling, not after I built that fortune.”
“I thought all dukes were wealthy,” Justin said.
“Not the ones who game money away like our grandfather did,” Phillip answered. “Or who sank it into every investment scheme he could. Father did not have a good financial head.”
“But you do,” Justin noted.
Phillip nodded, “Helped by my wife’s substantial fortune that came to me upon our marriage.”
“Are you saying I’m a poor duke?”
“I’m saying that we are family now, and we shall work together toward our mutual success. I shall become Lord Phillip and respected because I am well connected to my brother the duke. The only one with regrets might be our cousin who had stood in line to inherit. But I’ll be free to do whatever I wish.”
He said this last as if it were a new idea.
Miss Cameron glanced at him. Justin knew she wondered where she would fit in his brother’s schemes. However, he was struck by a new idea, one beyond wealth and titles. “I will sit in the House of Lords?”
“Yes,” Phillip said.
“I’ll have power?”
“You will.”
A sense of purpose filled Justin, expanding with a growing awareness of power. “I can change the Clearances.”
“What?” Phillip said.
“I will talk to the House of Lords. I will explain what they are doing to people’s lives.”
“You will do no such thing,” Phillip answered. “In fact, what we are going to do is leave as soon as we gather our things for Edinburgh. I’m going to the garrison commander there and report to him on MacKenna. We’ll stop his insurrection before it goes any further.”
“We’ll not do anything of the sort,” Justin said. “I know those people. I grew up with them. If you tell the Sassenachs, they’ll march up there and destroy everyone.”
“Perhaps they deserve to be destroyed,” Phillip replied.
Justin was stunned. “Are you really that cold? Are you saying that the children and the families deserve to be hurt more than they have been.” His brogue was stronger. He could hear it, but he’d not hide it. “Those are poor people and not guilty of the laird’s schemes. It’s harsh times for us all. And why should they not want to fight for their rights to live on their land? You English have created the problem. A man will fight for what is right. Isn’t that why you came for me?”
“You don’t understand,” his brother said. “The question is more sophisticated. The land wasn’t theirs. I don’t care to hear about old codes and how matters were handled in the past,” Phillip said, holding up his hand to stave off Justin’s argument. “This is a modern age. It’s the rule of law that matters, and the land belongs to the landowners. I don’t agree with what they are doing, or what our father did, but the law must be honored. Nor can I let an insurrectionist build his army and attack the Crown. And neither can you. Remember the responsibilities of being a duke.”
Justin had heard him out, his temper growing with each word. With surprising restraint, he said, “Well, then, perhaps I don’t want it.” He stood and stomped out of the room.
Phillip looked after him. “Was I better off without a brother?”
“He’s a brother, Phillip, not a lapdog,” Charlotte answered, knowing how difficult this was for both men. “Family will say to you what the rest of the world is afraid to speak. Do you think my si
sters are any easier to manage?”
“At least the three of you started off together, Charlotte. You have common values. What if I’ve opened a door I might want to close? I’ve been trained since birth for what I owed my title. He doesn’t have an idea.”
“He has ideas, Phillip,” she answered, not bothering to hide her exasperation. “And they may be different than yours. After all, he does have an understanding of the opposite side of this Clearance question, one that perhaps you should listen to. People can’t be chased out of their homes without wanting to turn around and fight. I saw enough of that on the frontier.”
“But they aren’t their homes,” he answered with a touch of impatience. “The landowners are merely claiming what is theirs.”
“But if people have lived for generations on a piece of property, if they think of themselves as family, then they believe they have rights. And they do, don’t they? Didn’t you just say as much to your brother over his right to the title?”
Phillip rubbed his face in his hands as if he were tired. “I don’t know anymore. That was Monarch’s argument—” He stopped. “Monarch,” he repeated as if just discovering something in his mind.
“The king?” she asked puzzled.
“No, Lord Monarch. He’s from Edinburgh. He wanted to talk to me about the Clearances the same day I received Nanny Frye’s letter. We will go see him,” he said decisively. “He told me he was heading home. He can explain to Justin what is right. He knows more about the situation than I do, and he’ll be able to advise us on MacKenna.” Phillip clapped his hands together. “The problem is solved. Monarch can help Justin understand. The three of us can come up with the correct solution.”
He kissed her forehead. “You are a source of inspiration. We’ll set off for Edinburgh within the hour.”
“Should we send a messenger to this Lord Monarch and warn him we are coming?” she asked.
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