Tristan arched his dark brow in challenge. She knew his expression all too well. He didn’t believe her, further heightening her frustration.
“I suppose you want the absolute truth?” She tossed yet another shredded blade of grass onto the ground then began to stack their remnants into a pile in a minute effort to create order from chaos.
Her brother’s gaze was unswerving. She could tell from the corner of her eye that his grin was one of irritating confidence.
“Fine. I probably received five offers to dance and since I know where you are leading me with all of these questions, I shall save us both from further aggravation and tell you that I didn’t dance with anyone.” Gwen flayed her arms in the air. “There. I danced with not a one.”
Tristan’s tone was gentle, calming. “Why not?”
Disarmed by his sudden tenderness, her expression softened. “You know why. I didn’t want to leave Papa.”
“Gwen,” Tristan took her hand in his. “He was well enough to attend the party and to stand there and reminisce with his old acquaintances. He sure as hell was healthy enough for you to dance with eligible men … had you accepted their offers.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but Tristan raised his forefinger. “I’ll have you know that if Father wasn’t at your side the entire time protecting his little sheep, you would have received many more offers to dance.”
Her jaw dropped. It was the encouragement he needed.
“Father hasn’t allowed you to be a young woman, Gwen. You should have friends, dance at balls, and you should have had a proper coming out in London like the rest of those young ladies in that ballroom last night.”
Gwen shook her head. “I don’t blame Papa for any of that and neither should you. It was difficult for him after Mama’s death.”
“It was difficult for all of us.” His voice was rich with emotion. “The difference is that you and I looked after each other while Father only cared about himself.”
Tristan glanced at his black stallion and watched as the animal scratched the earth with his hooves. “What else did Father say about his plans for your marriage? Does he have someone chosen for you?”
“Papa claims he hasn’t chosen anyone yet.”
“Thank God for that,” Tristan said, releasing a loud sigh of relief. He rubbed the knot of tension at the back of his neck. “Do you believe him?”
A heavy sigh was the only answer she could muster.
“What will you do if he has?” he asked.
His alarmed expression told Gwen that Tristan already suspected her response. “I’d have no choice but to marry the man he’s chosen for me.”
Her brother snorted.
“Don’t you dare patronize me, Tristan MacAlistair, or presume to tell me that I have a choice.” Gwen stood, marching towards her horse before rounding on her brother with force. “We may be twins, but we certainly don’t share the same place in society.”
Her brother cringed, and rightly so. As an attorney, he knew the law all too well.
“Never forget, dear brother,” she continued as she balled her hands into tight fists. “I can’t vote, own land, attend university or enjoy most of the other freedoms you take for granted.”
Tristan stood then reached for her. “I’m sorry,” he said in a sincere tone.
Gwen pulled away from him, not wanting his pity.
“Don’t you think I objected? Papa and I had a row and I upset him, which wasn’t at all good for his health. In the end, he reminded me that it’s my duty …”
She clamped her mouth shut. The thought of confiding in anyone, even her brother, about how much she dreaded performing this particular duty heightened Gwen’s feeling of disloyalty.
Gwen had always anticipated a marriage that consisted of love and mutual respect. She longed to express her own opinions, to be her husband’s intellectual equal at a time when a woman’s duty was to look pretty on his arm.
A childhood memory seized her. As a young lady in Scotland, Gwen had described to her duenna what she expected in her husband.
I want a husband who will love me more than all the stars in the heavens and who will hang the moon for me if I asked him.
At the time, her governess had laughed, Insisting that such a man didn’t exist. The woman’s words stung more than any others Gwen had heard.
With the morning’s frivolity long gone, the siblings rode back to the manor in silence. Upon returning home, they joined their father for breakfast.
“How are you feeling this morning, Papa?” Gwen asked as she strode to the sideboard to serve herself.
“I feel fine at the moment.” Her father’s breezy tone turned steel-edged. “I dare say, Tristan, I was surprised to see you last night. I didn’t think you would be joining us.”
Tristan changed the subject, turning it back on his father. “The trip from Scotland would have tired many healthy men, Father, yet I dare say you appear none the worse for it. As a matter of fact, you appear healthier than most men.”
“I’m not like most men.” Lachlan shot his son a warning glare.
When his daughter at last settled next to him at the breakfast table, Lachlan turned to her. “The Earl of Stratton had business in town the day before yesterday.”
Gwen’s hand stilled in the process of spooning her clotted cream. She then pushed the delicate porcelain bowl aside. “What would bring him to England?” She forced her voice to sound casual as a tight knot again coiled within her abdomen.
“He is very fond of you, Gwendolyn.”
Tristan muttered something under his breath just as Gwen began to feel queasy.
“It is you Keir is fond of, Papa,” her voice managed to sound calm even though her hand had started to tremble. She placed it on her lap to hide her reaction from her father, all the while repeating a silent prayer.
Please, not Keir.
He was their neighbor in Scotland. He was also her father’s constant companion. Lachlan had treated Keir more like a son than his own. Gwen and Tristan always suspected that Keir was the reason her eldest brother, Colin, had deserted them in Scotland.
Please God, don’t let it be Keir.
“Keir has made his intentions clear.” Her father’s voice sounded distant.
Tristan dropped his fork against his plate with a loud clink. “Please tell me you’re not considering that fop as Gwen’s suitor.”
“This doesn’t involve you, Tristan,” Lachlan warned before returning his attention to his daughter. “Keir and I have come to an agreement. You will be married by the end of next month.”
“I don’t understand.” Gwen felt as if the room had suddenly begun to spin, her heart now pounding like a drum in her ears. “You told me just last night that you hadn’t made a decision.”
“Well, I …” her father shifted in his seat as if he was uncomfortable. Being called out on a lie clearly affected him. He rallied, though by clarifying, “I thought it was best for you at the time. I told you that I want you settled before—”
“Enough with this talk of your impending death!” A vein throbbed in Tristan’s neck as he continued. “What did you tell him, Father?”
“I told him that I consider him to be like a son.”
“At last,” Tristan pounded his fist violently against the table causing china and cutlery to clatter. “That is the first truthful word I’ve heard from you this morning!”
Gwen’s voice shook. “I don’t want to marry him, Papa.”
“I’ve already accepted the offer. It’s a handsome match.” Her father took a bite of his bacon indicating that their conversation was over.
“Don’t you even care that she doesn’t love the man?” Tristan’s voice erupted.
Lachlan wiped his mouth with his spotless linen napkin. “It’s settled. There’s no need to raise your voice.”
Tristan’s fist slammed against the mahogany table again, this time with more force, causing the liquid in his father’s tea cup to splatter onto its antiqu
e saucer. Gwen had never heard her brother’s tone more lethal as he again addressed their father, “Why are you forcing her into this? You know damned well I would provide for her after your death.”
“My decision is final. Your sister knows what is expected of her.”
Gwen’s penetrating stare turned from her father to her brother as a lump of emotion welled in her throat at the sight of Tristan’s handsome features contorted with rage.
Her brother’s tone was unrelenting. “She has done everything to please you and you are taking advantage of that.”
“I am Gwendolyn’s father and I know what’s best for her,” Lachlan countered.
“Since when?” Tristan pressed his palms flat against the table. “You never made the time to get to know her, to get to know any of us. You are the last person who knows what is best for Gwen.”
Tristan’s gaze shifted from his father’s stern visage to his sister. “Mother would never have approved of this union.”
“Your mother is dead, boy.” Lachlan’s face grew purplish. “Your memories of her are idealistic at best!”
Tristan rose from his chair with such force that it toppled backward. It hit the floor with a loud thud, causing Gwen to jump.
“Mother loved us. I’ve never been able to say the same about you!” He glanced at his sister, his expression apologetic, before storming out of the room.
Gwen stood to follow him. “Tristan, wait!”
“Sit down,” her father’s tone was low and dangerous. “You and I need to make preparations.”
She barely heard him, her ears still ringing from the clanking of cutlery and china. But she had heard enough. Standing straight as a rod, she grabbed the back of her chair to steady herself as her eyes locked with his. “I don’t want to marry Keir, Papa.”
“You will marry him regardless.” His response was curt. Gwen noticed his hands resting on the tabletop, clenched into tight fists. “We have already discussed this. Need you upset me again and cause me another relapse?”
Chilled by her father’s heartless rebuff, Gwen turned away from him.
His tone had become venomous. “I will allow you to go upstairs only after I am assured that you know what is expected of you.”
“I know what you expect,” she whispered, blinking back the tears that were brimming, refusing to reveal one shred of vulnerability in front of the man. Instead, Gwen fled upstairs to the sanctuary of her bedchamber and slammed the door behind her, wishing she could just as easily shut out the pain she was feeling. It wasn’t until she turned the lock that Gwen finally allowed herself to release the torrent of tears that her pride wouldn’t allow her to shed in front of her father.
In less than one day, her life had been turned upside down. She was certain it would never be the same.
Keir Dunlop?
Gwen crossed to her four-poster bed then collapsed atop the fluffy mattress, her body beginning to wrack with violent sobs.
Why? Dear God, why?
Gwen awoke the next morning but, in her own form of silent protest, failed to join her father for breakfast. Instead, she sat on a cushioned chaise in her bedchamber contemplating her future.
It looked bleak.
To publically disobey her father would scandalize their family, not to mention cause his health to deteriorate further and possibly hasten his impending death.
Why do you care about him at all?
She despised herself for thinking such a horrid thing, yet her brother’s tirade wasn’t far from her thoughts nor was the memory of her father’s recent actions. He’d lied to her when he assured her he hadn’t chosen a suitor. As if with a sudden bolt of clarity, she now saw her father in a different light – one that clouded her once trusting eyes.
A knock at the door stirred Gwen. Her maid, Jane, entered the room carrying a small calling card.
“Good afternoon, Miss.” Jane’s tone was cheerful as she handed the calling card to her mistress.
Gwen read it twice, her pulse quickening with the knowledge that Lady Victoria Montgomery had come to see her. In immediate response, she rushed to her wardrobe then flung open the doors, deciding something cheerful was needed to bolster her spirits. After tracing her slim fingers over a rainbow of colors and fabrics, she removed a pale yellow gown with a square neck, wide sleeves, and a tartan bow around the waist.
“This will do,” she murmured.
Jane smiled. “That is a very pretty choice, Miss. You’ll look like a ray of sunshine.”
The thought of her sleepless night struck Gwen like a bolt of lightning, causing her to sprint towards the mirror. A guttural moan escaped her lips at the sight of her wan reflection.
She turned to her maid with a pleading look. “Please, Jane, help me look decent. Quick!”
With very little effort, Jane managed to work wonders for her mistress’ appearance and mental state. By the time Gwen entered the drawing room, she felt ready to take on the world.
Sunlight streamed through the windows making the room feel warm and inviting while the plants near the windows thrived.
Gwen held fond memories of this room from her childhood. She remembered playing with her dolls among the colorful foliage as she pretended they were trekking through a leafy jungle.
Even on the coldest of days, the room held its cozy appeal and represented a little bit of spring in the dead of winter.
Her visitor stood in front of the vast panes of glass surveying the well-manicured grounds before her. The young woman turned and Gwen noted that Victoria’s eyes were a deep azure much like Sebastian’s.
Gwen’s heart skipped a beat every time she remembered him. Because so much had changed since the Stocktons’ ball, she found herself clutching onto her happy memories of their conversation.
She curtsied and spoke in a gentle tone. “Lady Montgomery, it is a pleasure to see you.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Miss MacAlistair.” Victoria paused before suggesting with a devilish grin, “Please, call me Victoria.”
“A kindred spirit, I see, for I insist you call me Gwen.” Gwen responded with a conspiratorial wink.
She liked her guest instantly. The two seemed to have much in common and their conversation flowed easily, as if they had been close friends for years.
Once tea was served, Victoria sat on the floral sofa, her peach gown with matching peach and sage flowers at her petite waist blending in beautifully with the furnishings. Victoria possessed the grace of a flower herself, Gwen noted as she studied the young woman’s regal visage. Though she was younger than Gwen, she held a composure that made her appear wise beyond her years.
“Do you like riding?” Victoria asked, holding her teacup steady between her fingers.
“I love it, always have.” Gwen placed her own teacup, made of blue and white porcelain, onto the table in front of them before settling into a sage-colored chaise that faced her guest as she added, “I was quite a tomboy as a child.”
“You?” Victoria studied her. “I can hardly believe it.”
“It’s true. You were too young at the time to remember but your brother can attest to it. My twin brother and I trailed our eldest brother and yours incessantly.”
Her guest leaned forward. “Oh, please tell me what Sebastian was like.”
“Let’s see.” Gwen narrowed her eyes in thought. “He was quite competitive. So was Colin.”
“Your eldest brother?” Victoria confirmed.
“Yes. The two of them would always try to outdo each other; however, both were gracious in defeat.”
“Defeat?” Victoria’s eyes widened. “I can’t imagine Sebastian ever being unsuccessful at anything.”
Gwen lowered her voice to a whisper, as if she were imparting a secret. “Neither your brother or mine liked it when I bested them at a sport.”
“You?” Her guest’s expression was one of disbelief. “You trounced them, really?”
Gwen nodded in affirmation.
A smile swept across Victoria
’s regal features, “Do tell.”
“Colin taught me archery and forever rued the day.” Gwen smiled. “Both young men were beside themselves to watch a little girl hitting the target more often than they did.”
Victoria laughed at this different view of her brother as Gwen continued to confess her childhood antics to her guest, whose smile widened with every tale.
When the hour grew late, Victoria stood in readiness to leave. “Join me tomorrow for a ride. Our grounds are exquisite this time of year. Please say you’ll come.”
“I’d love to,” Gwen announced, deciding that the excursion was the perfect distraction from her betrothal debacle.
Promptly at two the following afternoon, Gwen’s carriage rolled onto the well-kept drive of the ninth Duke of Davenport’s estate known as Kellington Manor. It swayed to a halt in front of the main house, a massive spectacle of brick and limestone with wide windows accentuated by red pelargoniums blooming within flower boxes.
She descended the steps of her carriage, shaking her skirts before studying the impressive structure. It was the first time Gwen had seen it, as she was too young to attend the parties that the late Duke and Duchess had hosted when her family first resided in the country. Her mother once described the main house to her after attending a ball there and it looked even more magnificent than Gwen had ever imagined.
After climbing the grand stone steps that led to the massive oak door, Gwen reached for the brass knocker. As she waited for entrance, she smoothed her midnight blue riding habit. She’d chosen her attire because it reminded her of Sebastian’s azure eyes. Try as she might, she couldn’t get thoughts of him out of her mind.
In truth, she didn’t want to.
A stoic, gray-haired butler opened the door then motioned her in. He retrieved Gwen’s hat, gloves, and riding crop then led her into what was, without a doubt, the most magnificent library Gwen had ever seen.
The opulent room featured rich forest green carpeting, emerald and gold wing back chairs and a matching sofa, while mahogany shelves housing thousands of books covered the walls.
Gwen’s gaze inspected the crowded shelves for titles as her fingers itched to uncover what literary treasures rested upon them. She tilted her head upward to the tops of the tall bookshelves and what she saw was awe-inspiring.
Dance with Deception: Scandalous Secrets, Book 1 - Exclusive Edition (Scandalous Secrets - Exclusive Edition) Page 3
