physical failing, she was all but invisible. The attention and support I received for my sex and my health cast a particularly long shadow that further hid her from view. When Hannah was born . . . Well, my parents had an able-bodied daughter to put their minds to. The difficulty this created for Hazel is something I did not realize for most of our life and have never remedied. She is, as you can imagine, rather resentful.”
Sabrina stared at him. “I did not expect such an answer.” It was humble and insightful and tinged with regret. And, perhaps most interestingly, honest. As far as she could tell.
Harry shrugged, still looking at the board for reasons she better understood. Honesty invited vulnerability, yet he’d still told her the truth when he could have given a different—and easier—answer.
“Where has life taken your sister?” Sabrina asked, feeling a kinship with this woman she’d never met but whose circumstances—through no fault of her own—kept her on the outside. But then, wasn’t everyone a victim of circumstances in one way or another? Mr. Stillman’s circumstances had spoiled him and left him irresponsible and hedonistic.
“The one good turn my parents did for Hazel was providing her an excellent education. She finished her own schooling at the top of her class and immediately began teaching. Last I heard, she was teaching French and mathematics at a girls’ school outside of Brighton.”
“Mathematics? I have never heard of a woman teaching mathematics.”
“She has a mind as sharp as her tongue; I know that as well as anyone. When we were children and home on holiday, my parents would quiz me on my studies, but she would beat me to the answer ten to one. It did her no favors since my mother would send her away so that she might praise me disproportionately to my successes, but I think the personal triumph of beating me was important to my sister. Learning was the only aspect of her life she had any control over.”
“Is she happy as a teacher?”
He looked up at Sabrina, as serious as he’d ever been, and held her eyes for a beautiful eternity of four seconds.
“I believe she is bitter about the course of her life, but then I have also been bitter despite having many more advantages than she ever did. There was a great deal of discord in our household when we were young, and it stayed with my sisters and me as we grew. Each of us fled in one way or another as soon as we were able, and none of us has a great deal of trust in the others.
“I hope Hazel is content, but to expect happiness amid the circumstances in which she finds herself feels rather unrealistic. After all, she has a clubfoot and a worthless brother who has not supported her the way he should have, which means she has had to work for her own support.
“The last time I corresponded with her—other than the letter of apology I sent last week—was to ask to borrow money nigh on a year ago. How is that for brotherly kindness?” He let out a humorless laugh. “Her response was less than ladylike.” He shrugged, perhaps to take the point off the painful truth. “Every word deserved, however.”
“And your other sister? What was her name—Hannah?”
“Yes.” His expression softened, leading her to believe that even if none of the siblings was close to the others, there was something more between Mr. Stillman and Hannah than he could claim with Hazel. “She is married, though it was not a good match. Her husband is a fisherman.”
“A fisherman?” Sabrina could not hide the surprise in her voice. Hannah was a gentleman’s daughter.
“Yes,” Mr. Stillman said, looking at the board.
“And is she happy with her life?”
“I have not seen her since my mother’s funeral, which took place a few months after Hannah’s wedding. She seemed well enough, if not a bit disenchanted. Her fairy-tale expectation turned out to be a small house in a fishing village far away from anything, and anyone, familiar. She has a child, though I’ve never met her.” He looked up from the game and met her eyes again. “Are you happy, Lady Sabrina?”
She opened her mouth to give a glib answer that would deflect his attention, but he’d bared his life far more openly than she’d expected when she’d begun asking questions. “I am not rightly sure, Mr. Stillman. I am . . . content and secure.”
“Which can feel