Page 19 of A Lady’s Guide to Scoundrels and Gentlemen (The Harp & Thistle #1)

V ivian rushed out of the room with Victor following, shouting after her to stay back. The scene she came upon when she burst through her front door was more horrific than she had expected. A rather well-dressed man had his arms secured behind his back by two determined bystanders as he shouted he’d meant to kill the Paddy robbing him, not the people in the carriage. As the man continued his protestations, the driver made his way from the crowd and untethered the spooked horses. Thankfully, he was quickly successful, and the horses galloped off to a desolate Hyde Park to calm.

A crowd had gathered around the overturned carriage and everyone, both men and women, worked together through collaborative shouts and movements, trying to break in and get the people inside safely out.

Victor clamped his hands on her shoulders to make sure she stayed in place.

“That’s your carriage.” Her voice cracked. “Isn’t it?

Victor’s hands twitched. “Yes. But you need to stay back. Let the people get them.”

Vivian stayed at the top of her stairs that led from her front door to the sidewalk, her chest heaving with panic. A loud, wooden crack rang out into the night and she gasped as they pulled the first man out.

Victor let her go and rushed forward, shouting, “That’s my brother!” before throwing an unconscious Ollie over his shoulder, then taking him to a spot on the sidewalk the crowd had vacated. He gently laid Ollie out on the sidewalk, checked for blood and injury. Vivian watched without blinking, worried Victor would uncover something fatal. But after a moment, Victor met her eye, mouthed, “He’s all right,” then pulled Ollie close as if he were a child.

Vivian returned a nod to show she understood what he said.

They then waited with bated breath for Dantes’s extraction.

Vivian covered her mouth with both hands, as if that could calm her breathing, keep her last nerve from escaping. The people beside the opening of the overturned carriage began shouting out for a physician.

Terrified, she rushed forward as Victor yelled her name in warning, but she shoved her way through the crowd anyway, sure all of this was simply a bad dream and she would soon wake up. “Dantes!” she cried out. “Where is he? Let me see him!” And she was right there when they pulled him out, covered in blood. Someone caught her elbow when her knees weakened.

A spectacled man in a top hat and eveningwear cut through, his commanding voice bellowing that he was a surgeon and to let him through immediately, and even he stilled at the sight of Dantes. Vivian grabbed his arm. “This is my house,” she said with a shaking voice and he nodded before ordering four men to grab the bloody gentleman, and four men to grab the other victim.

Heaton was at the door and held it open to let them through. In the entryway, Ollie and Dantes were laid out on their backs for a quick examination. Because Ollie was merely unconscious, the surgeon quickly put his focus on Dantes. A woman, also dressed in evening wear, took to the surgeon’s side, and together, they searched for the source of the blood. Unable to find it on his front, it took several people to roll Dantes over to find the blood had originated from the back of his shoulder.

The woman pulled off her shawl to put pressure on the area while the surgeon ran off in search of a washbasin with soap to wash his hands. Heaton rushed away to gather a hasty list of supplies, including clean sheets, alcohol, a sharp knife, plate, and a thread and needle.

“I apologize for your carpet,” the crouching woman said up to Vivian. “There will be quite a bit of blood to clean up.”

“I don’t care about the carpet,” Vivian snapped harsher than she’d meant to. “You can have the whole house if that’s what it takes to save his life.”

The woman shifted her position to have a better hold, unperturbed by Vivian’s abrasiveness. “You know him,” she said, and Vivian nodded curtly, her throat too tight to respond.

When the surgeon returned with a footman and a pale Heaton—who promptly rushed away, citing his weak stomach—there was a flurry of activity. Together, the surgeon and woman cut Dantes out of his shirt, washed his wounds with alcohol, and began to extract the bullets. They worked expertly together, silent except for a few guiding words here and there.

As they removed the first bloody bullet and dropped it onto a white, porcelain plate, Victor appeared at Vivian’s side and suggested she go elsewhere for now. The woman helping the surgeon turned to Vivian with a kind face and agreed. “It will be harder on you than him right now. He isn’t feeling a thing, I promise you.”

Vivian hesitated, looking up at Victor with worry. “If anything happens, you come get me immediately.”

“I will.”

“And when it’s over—”

“Yes.”

She glanced once more at Dantes and took sanctuary in her drawing room. She paced, unable to do anything else. Five minutes passed. Fifteen, thirty, an hour. Finally, Victor came in and went straight to Gran’s old bar cart to pour himself an extra-large drink.

“He lost a lot of blood.” Victor’s voice was quiet, tinged with exhaustion. He studied the glass for a moment before taking a deep swig.

Vivian stood rigid, desperate for more information but too terrified to ask. The surgeon and his companion came into the room. No one else joined them.

“They are both upstairs resting now,” Mr. Wegner said after introducing himself and his wife, Mrs. Wegner. “Your friend Mr. Dantes McNab was hit by two bullets, which we successfully extracted. He lost a significant amount of blood. He will likely be in and out of consciousness for the next few days and he is at grave risk right now, especially as we wait to see if an infection takes hold. I am not trying to make you worry further, but please understand, he is not out of the woods yet. We washed the wounds with alcohol, dressed with honey—an antiseptic—and cotton, so we have done everything we can. Mr. Oliver McNab received a concussion but is otherwise fine besides significant bruising. He came to moments after you left, Lady Vivian, but refused to leave his brother’s side.”

“Thank you,” Vivian replied. “Both of you, I am truly in your debt.”

But the surgeon waved it off as if it were nothing. “When he does regain consciousness, he will be in immense pain. I recommend a spoonful of laudanum—”

“No.” Victor immediately cut in, crossing his arms.

“Mr. McNab—”

“There is no discussion around it. He is not to receive laudanum, under any circumstances whatsoever.”

The surgeon turned a worried, quizzical look to Vivian. It would have been expected of her to agree with the surgeon in this instance, and normally she would have. But Dantes’s health was more important than her social discomfort, and the surgeon wasn’t aware of his family’s history with laudanum. She lifted her chin in a show of defiance to her own personal nature. “I agree with Mr. McNab,” she said. “And I also agree it is not up for discussion.”

“Very well, then.” The surgeon clasped his hands, seeming to realize there was no breaking through their barrier. “I realize this creates an unusual circumstance that puts you in an awkward position, but I strongly advise against moving the patients out of your home for the time being. It would be an especially great risk to Mr. Dantes’s health and life. With your permission, I’ll have two nurses sent over. It would be prudent for one to be present both day and night. This would be beneficial to the patients, but it would also protect your reputation.”

Vivian, of course, had to nod to that.

Mr. Wegner continued. “My wife and I will come by tomorrow morning and the next few days to check on both patients and Mr. Dantes’s wound dressing.”

After thanking them again and showing them to the door, Vivian discovered Victor standing in the entryway with her, staring at the floor. A large, fabric tarp had been laid over the spot where the surgeon had worked on Dantes. She tried not to imagine the carnage that lay beneath.

“Thank you,” Victor finally said after a long moment.

“I don’t think he would be very happy with us if we gave him laudanum.”

“No.”

A long silence. “May I see him?”

Victor nodded and led her upstairs to the room Dantes and Ollie were sleeping in. The room was quite dark, aside from muted moonlight that cast a faint, silver glow. Vivian went to the foot of the bed Dantes rested in, and even in this light, he was deathly pale, like a ghost of himself. The door clicked shut somewhere behind her, Victor giving her a moment alone in the room.

Nervous, she first went over to Ollie and felt at his forehead, gentle so he didn’t wake. When she had convinced herself he would be fine, she returned to Dantes’s side to feel his forehead, too. To her relief, there was no fever, and she crouched beside him and took one of his hands in both of hers, rubbing her cheek against it as tears threatened to fall. His hand was warm but limp, almost lifeless. After setting his hand back, she climbed onto the bed to lie alongside him. With her hand on his cheek, she studied his face, almost hoping he would wake as she watched him.

Regret and despair roiled within her. She was frightened, so frightened, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. As she watched his ribs rise and fall, her eyes became heavy. What felt like seconds later, a gentle nudge woke her. Realizing she had fallen asleep in the same bed as Dantes, she sat up quickly and blinked several times. Victor stood over her, his lips pressed tightly. “You should go to your bed,” he whispered. “Before any nurses show up.”

Too embarrassed to say anything, she hurried out of the room.

*

To everyone’s relief, Ollie was able to get around a bit on his own the next day despite the bruising that covered him. Vivian, Victor, and Ollie spent the day in the drawing room and library, waiting in an all-consuming silence for the hours to pass, wondering when the nurse would inform then Dantes had awoken. Vivian tried to pass the time by reading the newspapers, but the front-page news covered the carriage accident. She didn’t like the attention she attracted once again, but because the man injured was famous pugilist Dantes McNab, not long after the fire at his pub, and it had happened in front of the house of Britain’s richest spinster , it had captured the attention of the entire city.

By yet another stroke of luck with regards to the newspapers, journalists hadn’t uncovered the bit that Dantes was recovering at her house. It was incredible how, for a second time, they’d failed to discover a sure scandal. Even though there was always a nurse with Dantes, and moving Dantes was a significant risk to his health, Vivian also knew people would still be up in arms if they knew three unmarried brothers were under her roof.

Of course, she had to tell her family when they came by to check on her after the events. It was now the second day Dantes slept. Vivian explained to her family, her hands shaking with nerves, the surgeon’s opinion that moving Dantes would be dangerous. Anne remained silent about the whole ordeal while Bernard didn’t seem to listen at all. In fact, he looked as if he were ill and likely wanted nothing more than to go home. And though Father was not too keen on all three McNabs being at her house, he accepted the surgeon’s directive and understood Victor and Ollie wanted to be near their brother.

The duke did insist on speaking privately with the brothers. When Father left the back library the brothers were in, Vivian glanced in the room as she shut the door. Both of the men were quiet with tense faces. She suspected Father had thrown scary but empty threats at them to ensure their best behavior.

Halfway down the hallway, Father was waiting for her. Understanding he wished a private conversation while no one was around, Vivian stopped and ignored the unease in her stomach.

Father grumbled, then said in a low voice, “If you think it best the McNabs stay here, so be it. But there best not be any funny business.”

Vivian felt her cheeks heat. “I don’t know what you mean, Father.”

“Oh, pish posh. I have twice as many years of life as you, and, despite what you think, I know you’ve been into mischief with the one abed. I do not want to know what that mischief entails, but I could see as plainly as my own hand”—he held a hand out and looked at it—“that you were both intentionally avoiding each other the way only two people in a lover’s quarrel do. Behave .”

She gave him a hasty curtsy but couldn’t look him in the eye. And, as she was already testing his patience, thought it best to bite back her denial of the lovers bit. “Of course.”

“I will, naturally, deny all gossip if somehow this gets out. But, please, send him home as soon as possible to ensure it does not.”

Vivian promised.

“We would not want this to reach Mr. Tewksbury’s ears, either.” Father looped his hands behind his back and held a bored expression. Vivian knew well enough this was not meant to come off as a casual, off-hand comment. This was how he looked when he meant business.

She swallowed. “Mr. Tewksbury? Whatever do you mean? I’ve spent one afternoon with the man.”

Father turned and began strolling down the hallway, his hands still behind his back. After a few paces, he paused and added, “I quite like that Mr. Tewksbury, Vivian. If my opinion matters at all.”

Of course his opinion mattered to her. Though she wished he wouldn’t share his thoughts on the subject of matrimony so freely. She would do as she pleased in that regard.

On the third day, Dantes slept. Vivian received a respite from family, which was a relief. As much as she loved them, they could sometimes be too much.

However, the relief was short-lived. The receiving room filled once more.

Her chasers were back.

Over the past few weeks her chasers had, one by one, started losing interest in her. Apparently, months of ignoring them had worked.

Or so she’d thought.

Now they had an excuse to swarm her receiving room once more by pretending to be concerned for her after the frightening carriage event. And swarm they did.

The servants reached their limits. Heaton and the rest did everything they could to keep Victor and Ollie concealed at the back of the house and their mistress’s secret safe. But being on high alert for days on end took its toll.

Meanwhile, Victor and Ollie were sick of being stuck inside, sick of the constant fear for Dantes.

Ollie stood at the window like a forlorn tot on a rainy day. “Look at it out there! The sun is out—when does that happen? What do you think that feels like, having the sun on your face? The fresh air in your lungs?” He turned around to face the room, and Victor scowled at him. “I haven’t felt it in days now. I’m going to go mad soon if I don’t get out of this blasted room.”

Victor dug his fingers into the arm of his chair. “Fresh air? In London?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “There’re more pressing matters at hand, Ollie, than enjoying sunshine and smog. Did you forget your brother upstairs? The one who might die at any moment? Or does that no longer concern you because you’re being inconvenienced?”

Ollie rushed his hands through his hair. “This is like being in prison!”

Vivian slammed her book shut. “Stop it! I can’t listen to you two any longer! I’m sick of your fighting, I’m sick of you talking about Dantes dying, I’m sick of all of you men pestering me!”

A switch seemed to flip on in Vivian and she decided she’d had enough. She shoved her book aside and stormed out of the back library, rendering Victor and Ollie silent, then stomped down her hallway, where Heaton smartly jumped out of the way.

With as much strength as she could muster, she threw open the door to the receiving room, so packed with men now the floor wasn’t visible anywhere, and immediately shouted at the top of her lungs, “Get out!”

The chasers didn’t budge, but they did stop talking to stare at her.

“Get out, the lot of you!” Her chest had heaved. “I don’t want you here anymore, you are not welcome here, and I will not be marrying a single one of you. You can close out your insipid wagers in my brother’s wager book!”

Surprisingly, the men began to file out, giving her nervous glances as they passed by. But they were taking too long.

“I said, get out , are you all daft? If you aren’t out in one minute, I shall call for the police!”

Mr. Crosby happened to be filing by at that moment. He stopped, causing others around him to stop as well to watch. There was a cocky smirk on his face. “How unfeminine of you, Lady Vivian. A woman should be graceful and delicate, not bellowing like a foghorn.”

For a moment, all Vivian could do was blink back. Who did this blasted man think he was, deciding what women should be? Her anger did not cool, however. “Delicate?” She scoffed then held up a fist, recalling the moment Dantes had knocked out Sullivan. “Oh, I can show you delicate .”

Mr. Crosby paled but quickly collected himself. He then let out a “hmph,” closed his eyes, lifted his nose in the air, and kept walking.

The rest of the men, thankfully, evacuated posthaste as they now wanted to get away from the madwoman who didn’t want to marry them.

*

Meanwhile, Dantes still slumbered on.

Vivian and the healthy McNabs were more concerned than ever and they began taking turns sitting with him. When Vivian was with Dantes she stayed at his side to talk to him in case he could hear her, though she spoke low enough so the nurse couldn’t listen in. Mostly, she tried to keep it light, sticking to funny, little quips from Ollie.

But it felt forced.

Other times, the sorrow and guilt weighed so heavily upon her, she demanded through her tears that he survive for his brothers, for her, so they could make everything right again.

A few curious instances, she inadvertently reached out to hold his hand, recoiling at the last moment as she realized what she was doing. This silly mistake, however, forced her to face what she had been trying to ignore over the past few months.

All this time, she had been confused over the affection she felt for him, trying to convince herself it was nothing more than a friendly fondness. But their parting words from that horrible night kept playing over and over in Vivian’s mind, both her Hyde Park declaration and those said in frustration. And she realized, she would never accidentally reach out to hold another man’s hand.

Vivian couldn’t deny any longer the cold hard truth.

“I love you, Dantes,” she decided to whisper into his ear. Saying it out loud for the first time sent a rush through her, but the moment was blanketed in a heavy sadness. “I know you’ll get mad if you ever find out I said that to you, but I don’t care right now. I do love you, and I’m going to say it while you can’t do anything about it.” She almost hoped he would be so furious, he would wake up, but he remained asleep.

One evening, the night nurse had an unexpected family emergency and another nurse was not available. Thus, Vivian refused to leave Dantes’s side despite Victor’s protests. Normally, she would do as told without complaint, but the thought of being away from Dantes when there wasn’t a night nurse was unfathomable.

“I’m not leaving.” She surprised herself by digging in her heels and arguing back with Victor. “If you think I’m going to sleep in another room while he’s in here like this, you’re mad.”

“It’s extremely inappropriate, Vivian, especially with the two of us sleeping in here, too.” Victor pointed between himself and Ollie, who was climbing into the other bed with a bear-sized yawn. “I can get you if something happens.”

But she wasn’t having it. “No,” she replied simply, and she climbed on the bed to lie beside Dantes, wearing a housecoat tied around a nightgown. “You’ll have to drag me out of here if you want me to leave.”

“I’m about ready to do exactly that,” Victor said with deep frustration. “I don’t need the wrath of your father on top of everything else.”

“So don’t tell him.” She lifted her head to glare at him, and he glared back, but he seemed to realize it was fruitless. He grumbled to himself and grabbed a spare blanket, tossing it to her. “At least stay above the covers.”

Their worst fear was realized when, the following morning, an infection took hold. Mr. Wegner and his wife confirmed it during their morning visit and were incredibly worried by this turn of events. Losing so much blood was already hard enough on Dantes’s body; the added infection meant his life now quite literally hung in the balance.

And there was nothing they could do but wait more and see if he survived.

While the surgeon and his wife observed Dantes, speaking to each other in low but rapid voices, there was a knock at the door. Victor went to open it—it was Heaton.

“Your brother is here,” the butler whispered to Vivian. “I think something is wrong.” He shot an intentional look of worry to Victor, and when Vivian said she would meet Bernard in the drawing room Victor insisted he join her. It seemed a bit silly, but she didn’t have the energy to argue with him on one more thing.

So while Ollie sat vigil with Dantes, the day nurse keeping close, Vivian and Victor went into the drawing room. When Bernard walked in, she rushed over, so happy to see him, hoping for one of those giant hugs he used to give her where he would sweep her off her feet and swing her around.

But the sour stench of alcohol clouding him caused her to stop in her tracks.

“You ruined my life,” was what Bernard opened with. Not asking about Dantes, not saying he was sorry about the accident, not giving her a shoulder to lean on or a simple hug. No, he gave her a drunken accusation.

“What are you talking about?” Vivian asked, taking a few cautious steps back without even realizing she had done it. “Are you drunk?”

Bernard stepped closer with rage in his reddened eyes. Out of her view, she sensed Victor edge closer to her, clearly concerned by Bernard’s state as well.

“Anne separated from me.” Bernard’s words slurred and he swayed on his feet. “She told Father I’m getting worse and lied that I scared her and the children!”

There was a sinking feeling in Vivian that this may not have been a lie, and she feared Anne’s claim may have even been worse.

Bernard continued. “Father put me in the empty townhouse of some insipid baron friend of his this morning and threatened to throw me onto a ship for America if I contact my family before Anne allows me to. She has the children, Vivian. But they belong to me! The children, the money, the house is all mine! That blasted woman doesn’t deserve anything!” He took another step toward her. “And this is all because of you. You ruined my life, Vivian!” Bernard shouted this so loudly, she flinched while his words echoed in the room.

“I had no idea she was going to do all of that, Bernard.” It came out desperate. But it was the truth. Vivian had admittedly made the mistake of mentioning separation to Anne, but she had no idea Anne had been pursuing it. “Last she told me, everything seemed to be much better since I paid off your debts. Anne said you were helping her out more. I even heard you playing with the children one afternoon. I don’t understand. What happened?”

Bernard continued his glare, his nose flaring with his rage. Her brother’s normally neat hair and clothing were uncharacteristically messy. “She changed her mind. What do you think happened?”

“Did you come here only to yell at me? I can’t help what Anne does or doesn’t do!” Vivian paused. He was here for something, wasn’t he? He wasn’t here to confide in her. A queasiness roiled in her stomach. “Why are you really here, Bernard? Why are you staying at some baron’s townhouse when Father has other properties you can go to?”

Bernard smiled, but nothing about it was friendly. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be losing my family! Gran’s estate would have gone to me! And now you owe me big because it’s all your fault I’m in this position!”

“None of it makes sense.” It was Victor. “Why would your wife want a separation so badly if you were simply a pathetic drunk who spent too much money? What did you do to your family, Winthrop?”

Vivian looked up at Victor to find a dangerous tension on his face. She was surprised he dared step into this conversation, but he was right. There was something more going on here. She looked back to Bernard, waiting for his response, because nothing was adding up. And he kept ignoring questions.

“This is a family matter, McNab, and has nothing to do with you. Now back off.” Bernard stumbled toward Vivian as he said this.

“No. I’m staying right here,” Victor shot back. “I don’t trust you to keep your hands off of her, not when you’re this drunk and angry. I’m not a fool, Winthrop. I know what you’re capable of.”

Bernard swallowed and decided to ignore Victor. “I need your help, Vivian.” Bernard pleaded, his voice ringing weak and pathetic. “You’re my sister, and I need your help. Please.” And he requested a large sum of money.

She gasped. “ How much ?” Gran hadn’t trusted Bernard with any money, and this request was concerning.

Bernard stammered. “Father is still furious you covered my debts and refuses to lend me anything. And this morning, when he threw me out of my own home, he put a hold on my accounts. I can only pull a tiny amount of money out each day now. Not nearly enough to sustain anything.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re staying at a baron’s house and not one of the other properties under the dukedom.”

Bernard had the good sense to look sheepish. “Father let all of our empty properties to repay you.”

Vivian’s eyebrows lifted up to the ceiling upon that unexpected twist.

“However, there is a newly renovated place a few blocks from here—”

“You should be staying where Father put you.”

“But the baron will be back at some point! And then I’ll have to go live with Father!” Bernard whined.

“What’s wrong with that?” She’d done it her entire life until recently; it wasn’t that bad. And obviously, it wouldn’t be permanent, just until he got back on his feet. Bernard living with Father wasn’t a terrible idea. He clearly needed help and support from family right now. Father could make sure he didn’t succumb to temptations that could only hurt him and his family further.

But Bernard laughed in her face. “Come on. I’m not that pathetic.”

Vivian frowned. If he hadn’t said that, she would have done something to help him. Perhaps have him over for dinner often so he wasn’t dining alone, or so she could ensure he was avoiding his temptations. He was her brother, after all, and she didn’t want to see him falter. But to insult her as he asked for money? And despite what he claimed, he was far from innocent in the matters of the separation, and it bothered her that he seemed remorseless over his actions. On top of that, when she’d paid off his debt before, he’d never said a word to her about it. He thought she owed that to him, too, didn’t he?

She really shouldn’t give him a dime. And she didn’t care to have him over more often if he was going to act this way. But she was more concerned about what would happen if she didn’t help him at all.

“I’ll send two hundred pounds to you tomorrow to have on hand in case something comes up,” she decided. It was enough to be an emergency cushion if or when Bernard needed it. Or, if there was something he did need unexpectedly but couldn’t take enough out to cover it. Father wouldn’t be happy about this, of course, but it wouldn’t garner fury. And she knew she could convince him of the importance of Bernard having a financial buffer. Then, if Bernard burned through it quickly and came back begging for more, she could remind him she already had helped him.

“That’s it? You could buy me an entirely new life and you wouldn’t even feel it. Are you serious right now, Vivian?” He slammed a fist into his palm. “I’m your brother! Gran didn’t leave me anything . If she had, I wouldn’t be in this position right now!”

No, you would have squandered every last coin and still ended up here, anyway. But she didn’t say that. “I’m not going into this with you right now. You know, you haven’t once asked how I’m doing, how Mr. McNab is doing, how his brothers are doing. Did you realize that? Do you even care that Mr. McNab is upstairs fighting for his life right now while we wait around helplessly to see if he pulls through?” She fought back the hot, angry tears forming at her eyes.

Bernard stepped away, looking hurt. “My life is spiraling out of control, and you’re the only one who can help me. Forgive me for bothering you when I needed help.” And with that, he left. Vivian watched, wracked with guilt, too upset to move from where she stood. She struggled to understand his lack of compassion, but wasn’t her refusal to help him just as bad? It might have even been worse. Her issue with Bernard was based on emotion, but she seemed to be lacking in loyalty to her brother. They were family, and family was supposed to help each other and she was well in a position to be able to do that. And she liked helping the people she cared about. It was why she’d paid off his debts without a second thought. She loved her brother.

“Bernard is lying to you,” Victor said, causing Vivian to turn.

“About what?” She gulped back the upset that had threatened to rise in her throat, wiping at her tears without a second thought. Victor had already seen her cry plenty in these last few days. There was no point in trying to hide it now.

He ignored her question. “You shouldn’t have given him anything.”

“He’s my brother. What am I supposed to do?”

“He’s using you.”

Victor’s words cut through her. She had accused Dantes of using her, though for much different reasons, of course. And while there was no denying Dantes had hurt her, Bernard was hurting her, too. Yet she was always giving him a pass simply because they were family. Was that right or wrong? She wasn’t sure. But now she had two important relationships to work through and understand. Her relationship with Dantes and whatever they were, and her relationship with her brother that was threatening to fall apart.