Page 9 of Masquerade

“Now how would I know?” His brother half-turned to lean an elbow on the bar, assessing Liam from his Oxford brogues to his stylish quiff. “You’ve been silent so long.”

Liam’s gut tightened. Guilt pricked, like the tough grass burrs that had pierced his bare feet on long-gone rambles with his twin. “You can cut the faux-Irish accent. I’m not one of your customers.”

“Tis’ a shame you don’t appreciate your heritage, lad. Da would be disappointed.” After Ireland and their father’s death, Niall gone back to using the name Da as they’d used as children.

“Dawas a proud new Australian.” Liam didn’t have the emotional energy tonight to be sucked into sharing memories.

“And could speak the language of his forebears when he had a mind.” Niall had the music of the brogue and the charm to match it.

“Whereas you picked yours up being mentored for a year by a woodworker in County Kerry.”

“That’s master cabinetmaker to you, boyo.” Niall gestured to his drink. “Are you joining me?”

Liam shook his head.

“Still on the clock.” Niall tilted his glass towards him, a mocking salute, before downing another mouthful. “I was there closer to three years. Da would have appreciated me skills.”

“Dad would have,” Liam agreed. Their dad had been fiercely proud of his family. Niall’s link to their father was through his hands, bringing wood alive as their father had. Liam’s link was continuing their father’s work in preserving the land. He’d failed in recent years. “I’ve met Kate Turner.”

Liam waited, the seconds ticking over while his brother worked the angles. A low-public profile was essential to pick up the challenge George had laid at his feet.

“Lovely woman.”

“You know her.” Liam made it a statement.

“I know her sister, Anna, better.” The lilt had disappeared from his brother’s voice.

“You mean her identical twin sister. When were you going to tell me?”

“As I said, you’ve been silent so long.” His brother was studying the dregs in his glass with the intensity of a mystic reading tea leaves.

“We talked a month ago.” Liam hadn’t factored in the edgy disharmony between Niall and himself when he’d taken on the burden of silence. Or the loneliness.

“You gave me two minutes of your time.”

“And the name of a man interested in your furniture.” Liam made every referral he could to his brother, a different kind of penance.

“Is it gratitude you’re after?” The bite in his brother’s voice cut deep.

“I was with the client.”

“On his time and money,” Niall snarled. “When the feck did money become so all important to you?”

Since Dad was swindled out of the nest egg he’d saved to keep himself and Mum secure in their old age.The last two years, Liam had made serious money, and he wasn’t about to apologise for it. Maybe his twin was financially secure enough now to know the truth? Liam was kidding himself. Niall was just starting to get a name for himself and needed every cent he earned for his up-and-coming business. Liam could keep his mouth shut for the few more months needed to juggle the loans and finalise the repayments.

“Wrong conversation, brother. When did you decide to blast our face across a billboard?”

“Weeks ago.”

Weeks ago, Liam would have said go for it. He’d become such a hermit that no publicity could touch him, whereas it would help Niall’s business. His heart insisted it wasn’t fair, reasonable or even possible to ask Niall to delay until Liam had pitched his case to George. “Why?”

“A favour for a friend.” Niall signalled for another beer.

“I didn’t agree to any favours.”

“Time was you would have,” Niall taunted.

“Times change.” Liam had reworked his definition of a friend. When Liam’s mother learned her bank account was empty, she’d told him their dad had mentioned a favour to a family friend.

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