Devil's Daughter (The Ravenels #5) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,11

kept each other’s secrets.

Many people, if not most, would have been flabbergasted to learn that Gabriel had any faults at all. All they saw was the remarkable male beauty and cool self-control of a man so elegantly mannered that it never would have occurred to anyone to call him a lunkhead. However, Gabriel could sometimes be arrogant and manipulative. Beneath his charming exterior, there was a steely core that made him ideally suited to oversee the array of Challon properties and businesses. Once he decided what was best for someone, he took every opportunity to push and goad until he had his way.

Therefore, Phoebe occasionally found it necessary to push back. After all, it was an older sister’s responsibility to keep her younger brother from behaving like a domineering ass.

“You’d help more by minding your own business,” she told him curtly. “If I decide to learn more about farming, it certainly won’t be from him, of all people.”

Gabriel looked perplexed. “What do you mean, ‘him of all people’? You’ve never met Ravenel.”

“Good heavens,” Phoebe exclaimed, wrapping her arms tightly across her chest, “don’t you know who he is? You don’t remember? He’s the bully. Henry’s bully!”

Gabriel shook his head, giving her a mystified glance.

“At boarding school. The one who tormented him for almost two years.” As he continued to look blank, Phoebe said impatiently, “The one who put trick candles in his basket.”

“Oh.” Gabriel’s brow cleared. “I’d forgotten about that. He’s that one?”

“Yes.” She began to pace in a tight back-and-forth pattern. “The one who turned Henry’s childhood into a nightmare.”

“‘Nightmare’ might be putting it a bit strongly,” Gabriel commented, watching her.

“He called Henry names. He stole his food.”

“Henry couldn’t have eaten it anyway.”

“Don’t be facetious, Gabriel—this is very upsetting to me.” Phoebe’s feet wouldn’t stay still. “I read Henry’s letters to you. You know what he went through.”

“I know it better than you,” Gabriel said. “I went to boarding school. Not the same one as Henry’s, but every last one of them has its share of bullies and petty tyrants. It’s the reason our parents didn’t send me, or Raphael, until we were mature enough to handle ourselves.” He paused with an exasperated shake of his head. “Phoebe, stop ricocheting about like a billiards ball, and listen to me. I blame Henry’s parents for sending him away to boarding school when he was so obviously unsuited for it. He was a sensitive, physically frail boy with a fanciful nature. I can’t conceive of a worse place for him.”

“Henry’s father thought it would toughen him,” Phoebe said. “And his mother has all the backbone of a lob worm, which is why she agreed to send him back for a second year of hell. But the blame isn’t all theirs. West Ravenel is a brute who was never held to account for his actions.”

“What I’m trying to explain is that a boarding-school environment is Darwinian. Everyone bullies or is bullied, until the hierarchy is sorted out.”

“Did you bully anyone when you were at Harrow?” she asked pointedly.

“Of course not. But my situation was different. I was raised in a loving family. We lived in a house by the sea with our own private sand beach. We each had our own pony, for God’s sake. It was an embarrassingly perfect childhood, especially in contrast to the Ravenel brothers, who were the poor relations of their family. They were orphaned at a young age and sent to boarding school because no one wanted them.”

“Because they were mean little ruffians?” she suggested darkly.

“They had no parents, no family, no home, no money or possessions . . . what would you expect of boys in their situation?”

“I don’t care what caused Mr. Ravenel’s behavior. All that matters is that he hurt Henry.”

Gabriel frowned thoughtfully. “Unless there’s something I missed in those letters, Ravenel did nothing particularly vicious. Never bloodied Henry’s nose or thrashed him. It was more pranks and name-calling than anything else, wasn’t it?”

“Fear and humiliation can inflict far worse damage than fists.” Phoebe’s eyes stung, and a hard lump formed in her throat. “Why are you standing up for Mr. Ravenel and not my husband?”

“Redbird,” Gabriel said, his tone gentling. It was the pet name only he and their father used for her. “You know I loved Henry. Come here.”

She went to him, sniffling, and his arms closed around her in a comforting embrace.

In their youth, Henry, Gabriel, Raphael, and their friends had spent many a sunny afternoon at the Challon estate in