A/N: the story Into the Darkness features Erik's "relationship" with Cathedra di Carlo, who was mentioned previously in this story. She's come up a couple of times in Beyond Ghost's and Shadows. Into the Darkness is my "phantom origin story" following 13 year old Erik.

Would love to hear what you think of this chapter as the content is less focused on Erik.

Ch 122

We returned to my home moments before supper was on the table. Bessie greeted me the moment she heard me open the door, baying as though I'd been gone for a century. She made certain to dance around, long ears swinging wildly as though at any moment she might take flight.

"Father!"

"Papa!"

Alex and Lisette bounded down the hallway, both of them grinning.

"No greeting for your uncle?" Phelan asked as he raised a brow and crossed his arms, feigning insult.

Lisette appeared quite remorseful. She whispered something to Alex and the two of them darted back down the hallway and into the dining room, then proceeded to run down the hall a second time shouting for their uncle.

"That is more like it," Phelan said.

"How is Claude?" Alex eagerly asked. "Is he joining us for supper?"

"He's staying the night at Sorbonne," I answered. "And most likely an additional night or two while he's recovering, per the surgeon's recommendation."

Apolline peered around the corner from the end of the hall and frowned at my announcement.

Julia clapped her hands from the dining room. "If that little girl and little boy don't wash up as I've asked for the third time, they will be sent to their rooms without supper."

Lisette ran back at once, hands waving above her head as she squealed while Alex casually followed, most likely knowing Julia would never send him to bed hungry.

"You are staying for supper, aren't you?" I asked my brother.

He looked at his watch and sighed. "Yes, but I must be at the train station in ninety minutes."

My heart sank, but I nodded all the same. "Plenty of time."

"Carlisle is on the way to the station. If Pierre is giving long-winded critiques as he usually does, the meeting should still be taking place and I would like to stop in and update them on Claude's surgery."

"Of course."

We entered the dining room to Alex, Lisette and Apolline hopeful that Phelan would sit next to them. In order to prevent an argument, my brother stated that he would not sit next to any of them.

"But Uncle Phelan! I'm your favorite nephew!"

"Yes, and I can see you better from this side of the table."

To my astonishment, Alex seemed satisfied by the answer and didn't protest that logic.

"Uncle Phelan," Lisette said. "When you leave tonight, when will you return?"

My brother looked up from his leek soup and cleared his throat. "Three weeks. When I collect your father for our trip to Denmark, I should think."

"But not before then?" Lisette stared at him with her large, hazel eyes, pleading for him to return sooner.

"Unfortunately, the university will not be pleased if I take additional time away from my classes in order to visit my niece and nephew. They would prefer I earned my salary, it seems."

Apolline stared at my brother, her brow furrowed.

"You may speak," he said to her.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," he answered. "To Brussels."

Apolline made no attempt to hide her disappointment. She frowned and continued eating in silence.

"You will return to hear Erik conduct in October, won't you?" Julia asked.

"Of course."

"Aunt Meg's birthday is in November. You should return to celebrate," Alex said.

"And Christmas," Lisette added. "And for Papa's birthday on the twenty-sixth."

"And in January you should return for New Year's," Alex added.

"Pancake day in February!" Lisette said, clapping her hands.

"And then–"

"And then indeed. You've made quite a few plans on my behalf for the foreseeable future," Phelan interrupted. "You are both aware that I have a home that accepts visitors as well, are you not?"

Alex and Lisette exchanged looks. "May we visit you?" they asked in unison.

"As long as you bring your mother and father."

Apolline raised her hand. "May I visit as well?"

Phelan smiled across the table at the little girl eager for a moment of his time. It was obvious that she was very fond of my brother and distraught that he was leaving.

"If you wish."

"What is your house like, Uncle Phelan?" Alex asked.

"What do you think it's like?"

"I think you have gargoyles at the entrance and a dragon guarding the back garden and at night they all come alive. The gargoyles roar and the dragon breathes fire and keeps the whole house warm in winter."

My brother raised a brow. "You will be sorely disappointed when you visit, I'm afraid. There is not a single gargoyle and dragons, I'm afraid don't exist."

Alex looked horrified. "What do you mean dragons don't exist? Uncle Charles says dragons are part of artwork from many cultures and civilizations, so it's possible that they simply went extinct."

"Well, far be it for me to argue the expertise of the great Charles Lowry. I don't believe dragons are native to Belgium, but perhaps when you pay me a visit you can search the city for signs of a gigantic fire-breathing reptile."

"A big game safari!" Lisette gleefully replied.

"I heard you had quite the eventful afternoon," Julia said. She reached over and squeezed my arm. "Music in the park?"

"Three songs," I said dismissively. "Nothing noteworthy."

Phelan sighed. "Only a composer whose work is known the world over spontaneously providing entertainment on an August afternoon. Nothing noteworthy at all, dearest sister."

"Well, in that case I am disappointed I missed hearing my husband play. I should have liked to have been there," Julia said to me.

I met her eye and noticed the way she forced a smile in front of everyone seated at the table. I couldn't help but feel that she was disappointed in me for playing without her present.

"Don't worry, Mother, Father will play again," Alex said. "The artists that are friends with Claude and Uncle Phelan invited him back."

"Yes, when I return in three weeks I'm certain we will all hear your father play," Phelan said.

"Perhaps," I replied.

"Uncle Phelan, if Papa says no, you simply have to do this," Lisette said. She cleared her voice, sat up straighter, and pulled her lips into a frown while blinking several times. "Please, Papa!"

"You are a force to be reckoned with, Lisette," my brother said.

I glanced at the clock in the corner and Phelan did the same.

"What time must you leave?" Lisette questioned, keenly observing both of us.

"In thirty minutes." Phelan picked up his napkin from his lap and clutched it in his fist. "Enough time to finish supper."

The last half hour passed much faster than any of us would have liked. As the time drew nearer, Alex, Lisette and Apolline exchanged looks and shifted in their seats, occasionally reaching beneath the table and into their pockets.

"What are the three of you conspiring?" my brother asked as he dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin. "Alex?"

It was quite obvious that Alex was the weak link when it came to keeping secrets. My son pursed his lips and leaned toward Lisette, whispering in her ear. She took a deep breath, then turned to Apolline.

"Ready?" Alex asked.

They all proceeded to stand at the same time and pull folded pieces of paper from their pockets.

"What is this about?" Phelan asked.

"We drew you pictures so that you wouldn't miss us as much while you're away," Alex blurted out, clearly unable to contain himself for a second longer. He furiously unfolded the paper in his hands and thrust it toward his uncle. "This is from me! Guess what it is!"

"I don't need to guess. It's a zebra."

Alex dramatically dropped his shoulders and exhaled as though the air had been punched from his lungs. "It doesn't have stripes. May I give you a hint?" Before Phelan could reply, Alex exclaimed, "It's reticulated!"

"This is the worst drawn python I've ever seen in my life," my brother teased.

"Uncle Phelan," Alex said sternly. "It's a giraffe."

"Well, in that case you did a marvelous job."

Alex handed the paper to his uncle. "I drew it so you would not forget our safari. You were a giraffe today, remember?"

My brother extended his arm and pulled Alex toward him. "An afternoon spent with you is something I will never forget."

Lisette politely waited her turn. She opened the paper she held and took one last look at it before she stepped forward and handed it to her uncle.

"It's you and your bird," Lisette explained. "Will you tell Elvira I miss her and I hope that she will let me feed her when we visit."

"Those will be the first words out of my mouth, Lisette."

Lisette gave my brother a dainty hug before she turned to Apolline and ushered her forward.

Apolline kept her drawing folded in half. She took a tentative step toward my brother and kept her gaze down.

"And what have you drawn, Mademoiselle?"

The girl swallowed and shifted her weight. "Do you remember my question from earlier?" she whispered.

My brother furrowed his brow and turned his head to the side. "Forgive me, but it has been a very long day. Would you refresh my memory?"

Apolline took a deep breath, leaned forward, and whispered in his ear.

"Oh," my brother said, sitting upright. "Yes, that's right. I do recall that I owe you an answer."

Without another word, Apolline held out the folded paper, waited for my brother to take it, and then quickly took two steps back so that she was in line with Alex and Lisette. Despite being the same age as my children, she looked at least a couple of years younger. With her thin frame and short stature, no one would have thought her a day over six years of age.

Phelan regarded her a moment before he unfolded the paper and examined it in silence. His brow remained furrowed briefly before he looked up again at the little girl who had reached out to Lisette to hold her hand.

"You don't need to be nervous," Lisette whispered.

"What if he says 'no'?" Apolline whispered back.

Phelan inhaled. "Your drawing is very good," he said. "Reminds me of something Claude would make, actually, with the way you drew the flowers."

Apolline offered a shy smile in return.

"Would you step into the hall with me?" Phelan asked. "It is easier to speak when not so many eyes are upon you, isn't it?"

Apolline agreed and walked out into the hall with my brother behind her. He made no attempt to close the door for the sake of privacy and it was fairly easy to see him drop to one knee before her so that they were eye-to-eye.

"I understand that the Elise stated you were far too old to be adopted," Phelan said. "Did that hurt your feelings?"

"Yes," Apolline squeaked out a single word filled with emotion. She stood out of my line of sight, but I didn't need to see her to understand the heartache she felt. "I wanted a family of my own, but no one wanted me."

Phelan bowed his head and nodded. "I understand how that feels."

Apolline sniffled. "Were you too old to be adopted as well?"

"My dear, being too old to find a family is utter nonsense and you should not give it another thought," Phelan gruffly replied. "You are precisely the correct age, if you ask me, and I am quite flattered by your request. Now, may I tell the rest of my family that we have left waiting in the dining room?"

Apolline must have nodded as he guided her into the dining room once more, one hand on her shoulder while he held out her drawing.

"Earlier this morning, Apolline Gillis informed me that she was accepting inquiries for the position of uncle as she has never had one previously, which is quite a shame."

Apolline quickly looked up at my brother, her eyes wide, to which my brother winked at her.

"Claude is of course her primary caregiver and shall oversee all of the duties expected of him, however, the Elise may have deemed her too old to be adopted, but I do believe there is a stipulation of never being too old for a charming, exceptionally handsome, and talented uncle. Fortunately, I am all of those things."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Thank goodness you are able to flatter yourself," I mumbled.

Phelan ignored me. "Apolline has been kind enough to draw me a form of identification, which I am sharing with you presently. Given that I am flattered by this depiction and of course the fact that I cannot have enough nephews and nieces, I have decided to accept." He looked down at her again and smiled. "May I introduce you to my honorary niece, Apolline."

"I told you he would accept!" Lisette said, hopping up and down.

Julia rose from her seat and kissed Apolline on the cheek. "It is good to have you in our family, my dear. I hope you would like to have another uncle and aunt as well."

"And cousins!" Alex exclaimed.

Apolline's lips parted. "Yes," she said, her voice breaking. "Yes, I would."

oOo

Phelan placed the drawings into his suitcase along with a jar of salve that Alex brought back from the Lowry's. While Julia put the children through the routine of preparing for bed, I grabbed our coats from the foyer as well as my keys.

"It's getting late," Phelan said. "I will not be insulted if you choose to remain at home with your wife."

"You have my permission to borrow him one last time," Julia said from Lisette's room.

We walked out of the house and down the street toward the Carlisle Club. The air had cooled considerably, the humidity more tolerable at last for late August.

"What will the accommodations be like in Skyderhelm?" I asked.

"Quaint," Phelan answered. "But with multiple options."

"Being?"

"Well, there's a couple of cots on the floor in the back room that are fairly well flattened out," Phelan answered. "I regret not building a bed frame the last time I visited, but perhaps an aching back will prompt me to do that during this visit. I'm certainly not as young as I would like to think."

Neither was I, and a week spent on a flattened cot sounded unappealing.

"What else?"

"There is a very cozy loft," Phelan answered.

That sounded far more promising.

"But," my brother added. "It's in the barn above the cows."

"Is there anything else?"

"The Skyderhelm Inn," Phelan answered. "With exactly four rooms, all beautifully furnished and within walking distance from the dairy."

"I imagine it's infested with fleas?"

"No, no, it's actually quite comfortable, but Toke will attempt to pay for the room because he is as prideful and stubborn as they come and Hilde weeps every night when I've walked back to get a good night's sleep, fearing I'll be mugged and murdered and then discarded in a ditch along the way, so cot on the floor it is, little brother. Of course, if you prefer luxury–"

"I suppose we shall share a room with two cots on the floor."

"As long as you are not tapping me between the eyes all night, I would be honored to share floor cots and back cramps with you."

I chuckled to myself as we rounded the corner, imagining two grown men on child-sized cots with our knees drawn up to our chests.

The salon was in sight when Phelan suddenly flung his arm out in front of me, hitting me across the chest. We came to an abrupt halt and I looked at him first, brow furrowed, then followed his gaze across the street from the Carlisle Club where two gendarmes stood with their arms crossed staring at the entrance.

Phelan cursed under his breath and turned in the direction we had come.

"You know them?"

"Boucher is on the right," he whispered. "I would know that bastard anywhere."

I recognized the name immediately as the man who had held my brother in jail for three days. Neither man on patrol appeared remarkable; they were both middle-aged, of average height, and smoking cigarettes as they chatted.

"Do you think he suspects you are in town?"

"I would assume that's the only reason he is standing out there like a guard dog across from the salon." Phelan risked a glance at me. "Another time, then."

"What about telling the others how Claude is doing?"

Phelan gave a sigh of frustration. "I'll send a telegram in the morning. As much as I hate making them wait, I prefer that over spending an evening jailed."

"Surely there's another entrance?"

"There is one in the alley, but Boucher is no fool. If he is standing out front, then I would wager two more men are patrolling the alley for the chance to ensnare me."

The door to the Carlisle Club swung open and Marco stepped out, waving his hands over his head. "I told you!" he shouted at the gendarmes across the street. "He isn't coming here tonight!"

Both men stared back at him. Boucher flicked his cigarette onto the cobblestones and placed his hand onto his club. He took a step forward, his movements reminding me of a snake slinking along.

"Enough disturbing the peace, do you hear me?" Boucher grumbled. "I'll have you arrested if you keep that up."

"What is your name, Monsieur? I would like to tell my mother of your duties to champion quiet streets for our lovely city."

"And who would your mother be?" Boucher snapped.

"Florine Fabienne. Surely you're aware that her nephew Pierre is inside as well? You've met him before a few years back from what I've heard."

Boucher released his grip on his club and nodded toward the other man. "Let's take a look up the street." He whistled, signaling two more men from the alley.

"You won't find him there, either. He's in Brussels, which is far outside of your jurisdiction."

"Keep it down, boy." Boucher scowled one last time at Marco before turning on his heel and briskly marching away.

"Have a wonderful evening, gentlemen!" Marco shouted as he jumped up and down. He had to be in his mid-twenties, but he purposely acted like an unruly child. He waited until both men turned their backs before he presented both of his middle fingers and enthusiastically waved them in the air. "Paris appreciates you!"

Once the two gendarmes were a distance away, Marco turned his attention to where we stood and jogged over, grinning as he approached. His gleeful exuberance reminded me of Alex bounding up the stairs to my bedroom when he had a break from lessons.

"How did you know I was here?" Phelan asked, crossing his arms.

"Because I can sense your disagreeable nature from across the city whenever you're in town. It's a gift I possess."

"Indeed."

Marco pulled a train schedule from his pocket and flicked the pamphlet with his finger. "And because the last train leaves in thirty-five minutes. I assumed if you were taking the final one back to Brussels you'd be passing by any moment now. Of course, this is the third time I've addressed Boucher since he's been stationed there and if I didn't spot you this time, I was going to tell Pierre and Calista to call it a night."

"How long has Boucher been out here?"

"Two hours, give or take," Marco answered. He returned the train schedule to his pocket. "You're coming inside, aren't you? We've saved your seat."

Phelan shook his head. "Boucher will return."

Marco looked away and inhaled. "And you know if Boucher desires trouble, I will alert Mother at once. You know she would not tolerate that man harassing a hero."

"A hero?"

"The shoe factory. I showed her the article in the paper this afternoon when I returned from the park. She was quite impressed."

"Give her my best," Phelan said, pulling on his coat sleeves.

Marco's lips parted as if he wished to say something else, but reconsidered. "Tell her yourself," he replied. "I will not do your bidding for you."

Phelan grunted. "You are definitely a Fabienne, Marco."

The young man straightened his spine, his lips turned down in a frown. "I will assume you mean that as a compliment."

"Of course." Phelan gave a curt nod, his eyes averted. "I must be on my way, but I wanted to inform you that Claude is resting after surgery. He is staying at Sarbonne for another night or two."

"And after that?"

"Undecided at this time," my brother answered. "I will be certain to give my brother your address so that he may correspond with you regarding Claude and his ability to accept visitors when he is up to it."

The young man turned to me and nodded. He looked me over, gaze flitting from me to my brother briefly. "Monsieur Kire, a pleasure seeing you once again. I do hope you will accompany us at another time. I would enjoy getting to know you in your brother's absence."

"That is kind of you."

"Good night, Marco," Phelan said. He turned on his heel and abruptly ended the conversation.

oOo

"What was that about?" I questioned as we cut a street over in order to avoid Boucher's patrol. The avenue we traveled was crowded for a Friday night as one of the opera houses nearby had a performance that had ended and its patrons flooded the streets in search of supper and lively entertainment to continue their night.

"I've no idea what you are referring to, Kire," my brother grumbled.

"Marco, Madame Fabienne…"

"Nothing I wish to speak of at the present time," he said under his breath.

"What would you rather speak of in the last thirty minutes of our time together?" I asked.

Phelan's pace slowed. Remorse replaced the annoyance in his gaze and he released a breath. "Alex would undoubtedly know what to say in order to change the subject," he answered. "Something utterly unexpected about goblins or trolls."

"His imagination constantly astounds me."

"He is very much a younger version of you. Every time he opens his mouth, I hear you speaking as a child."

We both scanned the street ahead, each of us looking in different directions for signs of Boucher. The train station was up on our right, the doors open and bustling with late night arrivals and departures. There were gendarmes on nightly patrols as well, groups of two heading in opposite directions that seemed more interested in their private conversations than searching for anyone in particular.

We entered the station with its high glass ceilings and large sign boards indicating which tracks the trains arrived and departed. The iron benches were half-empty, the doors exiting onto the platforms blocked by carts filled high with luggage ready to be loaded.

I followed Phelan toward a board in the center of the station with departure times listed on one side and arrivals on the other.

"Departing from Track Three. And what's this? Twenty minutes behind schedule, of course," Phelan said under his breath.

"We could have had dessert if we'd known," I commented.

"You and your desserts."

He handed me his suitcase and approached the ticket counter alone. I found a vacant bench near the doorway leading to track three where I sat and waited for him to return a moment later with his ticket in hand.

"You don't have to wait," Phelan offered. "It's late."

"Lisette is still up reading in secret and Alex is most likely battling his soldiers under the covers. If I return now, they'll both sneak from their beds and follow me into the dining room. It's better if I wait a bit for them to fall asleep."

"Suit yourself."

Phelan sat beside me and propped one leg up on the other where we proceeded to watch a young couple argue over something apparently missing from their luggage. It was evident that every single individual around us attempted to pretend they had no interest in the argument, but seeing as there was no other commotion, the woman and her husband took center stage. An announcement was made that the train leaving from platform three was about to depart and the two ceased their bickering in favor of dragging their luggage across the tiled floor and to their train.

"Praise God they aren't heading to Brussels." Phelan placed his ticket into his breast pocket. "And thank goodness Boucher is sniffing about elsewhere."

"How do you think he knew you were in town?" I asked.

Phelan shrugged. We were both staring straight ahead at a gangly young man attempting to navigate through the double doors with a luggage cart in tow. The entire pile looked ready to collapse if he rolled over a crack in the flooring.

"Someone probably saw me in the park and reported back to him. Or he read the news in the newspaper of the factory collapse and assumed the person in question was me giving a false name."

"He should have been glad you were there that night to lend a hand."

"Well, I assure you he is not."

"Why would he concern himself with your whereabouts?"

"Because we are not particularly fond of one another."

"Why is that?"

"I've been told I'm not the most pleasant person."

"Really?" I said, feigning surprise.

"He is friends with Jean Moreau," Phelan answered. "And as you are aware, I am not. After the last time we had a bit of a scuffle, Boucher made it abundantly clear that he would make certain I knew I was not welcome in his city."

"What in the hell is that supposed to mean? An outright threat?"

"I left his friend sufficiently bloodied," Phelan admitted. "I suppose I deserved the threat."

"He abuses his position of authority. Surely something can be done about it?"

Phelan blew air past his lips. "I must say, Kire, with all of these questions, I feel like this is you preparing me for a week of sleeping in the same room together."

I snorted. "Perhaps it is."

"What else is on your mind, other than Boucher?"

Another announcement for a train arrival momentarily paused our conversation. The train to Brussels was a short twelve minutes away from the station.

I took a deep breath and exhaled. "Is Marco your son?"

Phelan didn't turn to face me. He continued staring straight ahead, his gaze flitting back and forth. For a moment I wasn't certain if he heard me as the whistle from the approaching train gave two high-pitched tones that rang through the station.

The longer the silence between us, the more nervous I became that I'd overstepped blatantly questioning him about his paternity. "Lan–"

"He could be," my brother said. "Or he could not be."

"You and his mother were acquainted in the past?"

"More than simply 'acquainted'." He worked his jaw in silence. "Or so the rumor goes."

Another train announcement followed, accompanied by people exiting from the train that had arrived a moment earlier. The station flooded with people, their luggage, and noise that drowned out conversation.

"May I ask what happened between the two of you?"

"I would say no, but seeing as how you are uncouth, I suppose you already have presented the question." He sighed heavily in disgust. "Florine's father and grandfather were both wealthy merchants with political influence. She was betrothed to someone whose station in life was equal to hers and far, far above mine."

"How did you meet her?"

Phelan glared at me, but continued speaking despite his annoyance. "I saw her out walking in the park before a rainstorm one spring day. She had a yellow parasol and there were white and pink flowers raining down from the trees and landing all around her. She looked absolutely stunning in the breeze with her skirts flowing around her ankles and her hair tossed over her shoulder. The sky was dark behind her, but with the parasol and her matching dress, she looked like sunlight bravely battling the storm." He snorted. "One can imagine how ridiculously enamored I was with that description alone.

"I drew a sketch of her from memory and waited for weeks to spot her again. When I did, she took one look at my drawing, blushed at me one moment and scolded me for being so brazen in the next. And that, Kire, was the end of it. I was reduced to a lovesick boy fawning over a beautiful girl.

"Seeing the sketch, her father invited me to paint his entire family. The portrait took me eight weeks to complete, and somehow Florine and I managed to sneak away in the afternoons each day I was there to work on their painting. We spent most of our time together entangled in each other's arms lounging in her bed."

I turned to face him at last, noting the distance in his gaze. He offered a wan smile at the memory and sighed.

"She was the most lovely woman I'd ever seen, robust in every way imaginable and I told her that I didn't care if she was to be married to Baptiste Fabienne. I'd be her lover for as long as she would have me."

"That name is familiar."

"Ship builders. Very prominent and wealthy ship builders, I should mention, and Baptiste was the youngest of three sons and happened to also be a widower with no heirs in need of a young wife to bear him children, preferably sons, which his two older brothers didn't have."

"How old was Baptiste when they wed?"

"Ancient," Phelan said with a dramatic groan. He grunted. "Or at least at the age of twenty-two, I thought a man in his late forties was practically dead. Now that I'm nearly his age, I've reconsidered." He paused and stared at his shoes. "After weeks of me visiting their home, Florine's mother suspected that her daughter was involved in a tryst. She apparently saw me walk into her daughter's bedroom when everyone thought I'd left for the afternoon and promptly sent Florine away early to Nice. I found out by chance that the wedding was moved up a month, and Florine was suddenly a bride to Baptiste Fabienne. They were only married for a couple of months when he contracted the measles while on a business trip with his older brother. Fortunately Florine did not catch his illness, but both men succumbed to pneumonia shortly after they were both ill."

"Do you suspect the wedding was moved up because she was–"

"Of course I do," Phelan gruffly replied. He swallowed and briefly eyed me. "It made sense that we had created a child and her mother wanted her married off as swiftly as possible to avoid scandal. They couldn't have their darling daughter bearing the bastard child of some no-name painter."

He fell silent for a moment before shaking his head as if attempting to dislodge the painful memories.

"The next time I saw her was a year later with a child in a buggy as she took a walk through the park. She approached me, yellow parasol in hand, and asked if I would have a moment to speak, which of course I eagerly had as many moments as she desired. The moment I saw her again…it was like no time had passed at all. Until Marco began crying."

"Did she claim you were the father?"

Phelan rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "Florine made no claims. Her sister, however, suggested that Marco favored me more than Baptiste, but of course Florine and I denied having relations of that sort. We met in secret for several weeks after that, but…she wanted something I wasn't able to provide outside of putting another child in her womb."

"Financial support?"

Phelan shook his head. "No, that was not a concern."

I stared blankly at him.

My brother growled in disgust. "If you must know, Kire, I wasn't the sort of person she could rely on outside of the bedroom. She knew I could not be there for her or her son and I made certain that I kept her disappointed."

Given how my brother treated his nieces and nephew and how he had agreed to marry a woman and raise a child that wasn't his, I couldn't fathom him turning away from a boy that was most likely his.

"That's why you don't want to see her? You think she will be disappointed in you?"

Phelan abruptly grabbed his suitcase and stood. "Don't want to see her? Nothing could be further from the truth. There is nothing I want more than to see her again."

I stood as well. "Then what is your reasoning?"

Phelan briskly walked toward the train platform. "I disappointed Florine twenty-six years ago when I looked at her son in the buggy and realized I was not prepared for raising a child nor was I interested in being a husband."

"You were nineteen at the time?"

"Yes, and she was twenty-two."

"You were both young to have the duty of being parents."

"I was young and immature and she was young with no choice but to raise a child as a widow. Her son, whomever he was sired by, is a grown man whom she has cared for alone, with no help or acknowledgement from me. What use could they possibly have for me in their lives when I denied both of them with my selfishness and immaturity all those years ago? None."

"I disagree."

"Of course you do. Now who is the obstinate one?"

"You are not the same person you were twenty-six years ago," I pointed out. "Aside from being terribly immature at the age of forty-five."

He made a face, catching himself far too late. "Respect your elders," he said dryly.

"How long has it been since you last spoke to Florine?"

"The last time I saw her was a few months after the divorce was finalized. She just happened to be walking through the park while we were painting and wished to see my work."

"I assume she was carrying a yellow parasol?"

Phelan sighed to himself. "Lemon yellow, her favorite color."

"You still love her, don't you?" I asked.

Phelan blinked at me. "It was nothing more than a fleeting summer romance."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his dismissive description of a relationship that he clearly longed to experience again. "How do you feel about Marco?"

Phelan turned his face away from me. "He is not the best painter."

"That is not what I meant."

My brother sighed. "Marco is courteous, jovial, and quick witted while simultaneously being as obstinate as Florine."

"Obstinate as Florine," I muttered. "Perhaps he received his willful nature from both parents."

Phelan sniffed. "He has a wonderful mother and he deserved a father. It's truly a pity she never remarried and at least gave him that."

The train to Brussels approached. The announcement was drowned out by not only the whistle, but the rumble of the wheels along the track that shook the platform.

"Marco is clearly very fond of you, whether you are his father or not, and from what he said outside the Carlisle Club, it sounds as though his mother is fond of you as well."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't agree or disagree with my observation.

"Have you completely forgotten what you told me at Sorbonne?" I questioned.

He glared at me in half-hearted fashion as he joined the line of people boarding the train. "About the birds and the bees?"

I shook my head at him. "No, about hearts mending and minds changing."

"Do not think for a moment I will tolerate you using my words against me."

I gave a frustrated sigh. "Your skull is as much in need of rattling as mine, if not more."

"There is nothing wrong with my skull."

"Think what you will."

"I always do."

"Perhaps, elder brother, when you return in three weeks we shall find out if you still love Florine."

Phelan narrowed his eyes. "We, little brother, will do no such thing," he firmly replied.

I turned my head to the side as Phelan approached the conductor taking tickets. "If you are speaking into my left ear, I cannot hear you."

"Kire," Phelan warned.

The conductor looked at the two of us. "Are you both traveling? If you are not, kindly step out of the line."

I placed my hand on Phelan's shoulder before I moved to the side. "Safe travels," I said.

Phelan looked back at me and shook his head. Before he turned, I saw him smile to himself.