Regency 09 - Redemption

by Jaimey Grant

An image of Genevieve Northwicke danced before his eyes. She was the daughter of the Duke of Denbigh. Why on earth had he thought of her at this inopportune moment?

  Most likely because the young lady had affected him as no other woman he’d ever met, he admitted ruefully. He firmly pushed the memory of her appreciative stare from his mind. If he allowed himself to think of it now, he’d be in some considerable physical discomfort.

  “I can see, as usual, that it is pointless trying to reason with you,” muttered Miles in disgust. “I’ll leave you to your fuming.”

  Dare said nothing. What could he say? Part of him agreed with his brother. The other was too proud to try to defend himself. Miles was his twin, his other half. Miles should have believed in him, trusted him.

  But he didn’t. Miles never had. No one ever had. Dare was very much afraid no one ever would.

  Slumping down into a chair, Dare dropped his head into his hands, the picture of weary dejection. He suddenly wished he had stayed on that boat and returned to France.

  That afternoon was spent in the traditional manner. Gentlemen who had stood up with ladies the night before paid a social call or sent round their card with flowers. Dare had to obey this social edict as well and he did so with calm indifference. Miles insisted on personally calling on Denbigh’s twins and begged Dare to accompany him.

  Dare envied his brother’s ability to pretend their heated argument had not occurred. Evidently, he had run it through his mind and come up with a solution for it. Oh, well.

  After laboriously dressing himself in one of the monkey suits he hated, Dare left his room to find his brother. Miles was in his own chamber, staring at his reflection in the mirror, clearly fretting over the folds of his cravat.

  “You look well, Miles,” Dare commented lazily. He sat down, slouching horribly, and gave his twin a flashing grin. “How many more hours until you’re ready?”

  Miles swung around and looked his brother over critically. Dare was wearing a morning coat of dark blue bath superfine and skintight pantaloons gray-blue in color. On his feet were shining black Hessians. His cravat was nothing remarkable but nothing to be ashamed of either and had a sapphire stickpin inserted haphazardly in the folds. His wavy black locks were tied securely at his nape.

  “You look very well, too,” Miles finally said.

  “I’m relieved my appearance pleases you, Miles,” replied Dare dryly. “Can we go now? I’d like to get this visit over with if you don’t mind.”

  Miles frowned at him. “I’ll be down in a trice.”

  Dare stood with fluid grace and sauntered to the door. “I’ll await you in the drawing room.”

  Upon reaching that room, however, Dare heard the unmistakable sounds of Bri receiving her own gentlemen callers from the evening before. He hesitated a second too long, debating whether or not to interrupt, and was accosted in the hall by a blond gentleman who reminded him sharply of Lady Genevieve.

  This gentleman stopped and opened his mouth on his way down the stairs. Then he closed his mouth and peered closer. A smile broke out over his features. “You must be Darius Prestwich.”

  “You have the advantage over me, I’m afraid,” Dare replied easily. He was unsure what to make of this man who was obviously a relative of the Northwicke twins.

  He stuck out a hand, looking up a little at Dare, as Dare stood a bit taller. “I am Adam’s closest friend, Connor Northwicke.”

  Dare shook hands with Lady Genevieve’s older brother. “And how is your wife?” Dare inquired politely. He had heard a few vague things about this gentleman from some of Adam’s correspondence over the past few years and he privately thought Lord Connor had been through more than any man deserved.

  His smile wavered. “She is well, thank you.” He glanced away, his smile finally fading, and glanced back at Dare. “My sister mentioned you when I saw her today,” he finally commented lightly.

  Dare braced himself for what ever the little minx had happened to mention. “In what way?” he asked, keeping any shred of emotion from his tone.

  “She seemed to think you said or did something to upset Jenny, actually. She said it wasn’t important, just odd.”

  A little like this conversation, thought Dare. He forced a look of vague interest and repeated his earlier question.

  Lord Connor sighed a little. “I hate to do this to you since we just met but as Jenny’s older brother I feel the need to warn you away from my sister.” Dare stiffened, saying nothing. Connor continued, “Gwen seems to think Jenny’s odd reaction stemmed from her partiality for you more than her disgust. I realize you are Adam’s cousin and as such entitled to some courtesy. But your past is too shady by half.” He paused, studying Dare’s closed expression. “Damn. You know, there is really no graceful way to warn somebody off, is there?”

  “Don’t bother, Lord Connor. I understand completely and think more of you as a man to get involved in the future happiness of your sister. You have my solemn promise that after today, I will never speak to your sister again. And for good measure, I will include her twin in that promise.”

  “You do not have to do anything so drastic, Mr. Prestwich,” Connor protested.

  “I insist, my lord. Now, if you will excuse me, I must pay my compliments to my cousin.” Dare strode into the drawing room, refusing to acknowledge the pain caused by Lord Connor’s very negative assumption.

  It was rather unfortunate for quite a few people that Dare’s reckless streak was coming to the surface again, brought on by his own disappointment in himself and aided by certain comments and references to his past. But he was no more able to stop it than capture a wave in the palm of his hand.

  Chapter Four

  Bri looked up from her circle of admirers when Dare approached. “Dare, how lovely of you to join me. Will you sit?”

  Dare bowed over her hand, smiling flirtatiously. “I regret that I cannot, my lady,” he replied, straightening. “Miles and I must perform duty visits this afternoon.”

  Bri stared at him for a moment. Then, rising, she said, “I wonder if you might walk in the garden with me for just a moment, Dare. There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

  They were soon strolling amongst thorny roses and twisting vines of ivy. Both were silent for a moment, just gazing about at the signs of an early spring.

  “Did you meet Con?” asked Bri suddenly, turning a blinding smile on her companion.

  Dare stiffened slightly. “Lord Connor? I did. He was all that was… um, protective.”

  Bri gave him a sympathetic look. “That bad, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  Bri stopped, causing Dare to stop right along with her. She turned to look him in the eye. “I realize Connor means well, Dare, but please don’t take anything he says personally. He is very protective of his sisters; they have always been extremely close.”

  “That is a difficult request, Bri,” he remarked dryly. Her answering look was eloquent enough to make him laugh. “Why, you ask? Well, he referred to my past and that is something I can’t help but take personally since it is something I have that no one else does.”

  “Nonsense,” scoffed Bri. “Everyone has a past.”

  Dare was very quiet for a long moment. “Do you know anything about my past, Bri? Has Adam or Miles told you anything?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But it can’t possibly be as bad as mine, Dare. No one has a past as bad as mine.” Her tone was sad with a touch of bitterness and Dare wondered what she had hidden in her past to cause such an emotion.

  “Not even Derringer?” he asked facetiously, having heard by now all about the infamous Lord Heartless.

  She grinned. “Well, maybe Derringer,” she conceded.

  Dare sighed suddenly, a sigh of pure, unadulterated weariness. “I appreciate your attempt to cheer me, Bri, really I do. But it is unnecessary, as I had never once considered courting Lady Genevieve. She is a duke’s daughter and I am merely the son of a country gentleman, owning nothing
more than a scandalous past.”

  Bri gave him an enigmatic look. “Somehow I don’t believe you are merely anything, Darius Prestwich.”

  Jenny and Gwen flirted with their visitors as they had been taught. A shy but inviting look here, a whispered word or two there, blushes and hand squeezes for good measure; these were the key ingredients for an experienced flirt.

  The twins, however, had been entertaining gentlemen for the past few hours and their rather limited store of patience was wearing thin indeed. Jenny had already threatened to pop one young man in the nose if he insisted on treating her like she was without a brain, much to his astonishment. He had been so surprised, in fact, that he had convinced himself he had not heard her correctly and taken his leave in a state of semi-unreality.

  Gwen, who actually possessed a bit more patience than her sister, finally got to the point that she was also ready to do someone serious bodily injury. That was when Darius and Miles Prestwich were announced. She smiled at Jenny, whose unpleasant scowl marred the perfection of her lovely features.

  The new arrivals crossed the room, bowing and saying all that was expected of them, offering little clusters of flowers to each of the ladies. Gwen accepted hers from Miles with a maidenly blush and invited him to sit with her. Jenny accepted Dare’s offering with a distinct lack of thankfulness and carelessly gestured at the chair next to her.

  “Please sit, Mr. Prestwich,” she said in a tone that indicated how clearly she did not wish him to sit there.

  “Always willing to oblige a lady,” murmured Dare, already amused by his rude reception.

  Jenny snorted. “Indeed? You shock me, sir.”

  “Not nearly so much as I could,” Dare pronounced with a certain amount of wicked innuendo. Her look informed him that his dart was well aimed.

  “How is your day progressing, Lady Genevieve?” he asked politely.

  “Oh, you know, as usual,” she replied with a ludicrous expression of boredom on her face. “I flirt, I flatter, I charm, I choke.”

  Dare laughed, drawing the attention of some of the other gentlemen in the room, as well as the ladies. He appeared completely unaware of this, however. “You are just as candid as ever, my lady,” he told her. He sobered suddenly. “Don’t ever lose that. Act the débutante to the hilt if you must but never marry until you find someone with whom you can be yourself.”

  Jenny stared at him. “Does such a man exist?” she asked with a small amount of wonder.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t think your brother ever found much pleasure in talking to stupid ladies and I can’t imagine that his wife is like that. You know Bri is outspoken and Adam seems to delight in that. Even Miles believes women should have some brains and he seems to take Society’s side in everything.”

  “And what about you?” Jenny heard herself ask, vastly interested in this topic and curious about the hint of bitterness she detected in his words.

  His face became shuttered, distant. “I much prefer stupid ladies,” he remarked in a tone devoid of expression. He stood. “Please excuse me, my lady.” He bowed and left her to join a group of young men standing near the window overlooking the street.

  If that was what he liked, why was he counseling her to retain her independence of mind? It made no sense to her and even less the more she thought about it. When the middle-aged Earl of Tarence joined her, she smiled and became as distant as Dare had been towards her.

  “I can’t believe you would make other plans, Dare. Adam wanted you and I to take Bri and Lady Greville about,” complained Miles that evening.

  “I’m sure you can handle it, Miles,” he said encouragingly. “I believe in you.”

  “You say that now. But Lady Greville is six months pregnant and scary beyond reason. And I think Bri is, too. She just hasn’t told anyone yet.”

  “She is. About three months, I should think.”

  “You see? I need support, Dare. Me, alone with two pregnant females? The mind shudders.”

  Dare’s lips became a grim line as he studied Miles. “When the devil did you turn into such a whiner?”

  Miles drew himself up to his full height of six-feet-one-inch. If he did it to intimidate him, Dare thought, he was in for a disappointment. Darius Prestwich was not easily intimidated—especially by his younger brother.

  “I do not whine, Dare. I have legitimate concerns. I choose to voice these concerns. And since they are about you, who better to listen to them?”

  Dare stared up at him from where he lounged in his chair. His expression was patronizing. “Miles, when will you learn? I do not listen to anyone. I am my own man. A violent, irresponsible, and sometimes downright nasty man, true, but my own man nonetheless. Please refrain from telling me what I should and should not do.” He stood, patting Miles’s cheek affectionately. “Thank you, brother. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Miles escorted Bri and Aurora, Lady Greville, to a rout in Park Lane being held by Sir Alfred Tinney and his new bride, Lady Matilda. With a lady on each arm, Miles led them up the front steps and the three of them greeted their host and hostess. They fought their way up the stairs to the upper salons. Miles relinquished his charges to some of their acquaintances so they could further their gossip about Lord Derringer and escaped to a slightly less crowded room.

  He had stood looking around the room for only a few moments when he caught sight of the Ladies Northwicke. They held court from a settee situated near a potted palm. He moved in that direction.

  Gwen greeted him with obvious pleasure. This was what a young lady ought to be like. She was polite, sweet, unassuming, kind, beautiful, elegant…he could go on forever.

  Jenny looked up at him with a question in her eyes that Miles couldn’t begin to understand. He glanced at Gwen, his black brows raised ever so slightly.

  Lady Guinevere rose to her feet. “I would very much like to walk a bit, Mr. Prestwich,” she said sweetly.

  Miles bowed and offered his arm. He sent a questioning glance Jenny’s way but she politely refused to accompany them.

  When they were a sufficient distance away, he remarked, “Your sister seemed to want to ask me something.”

  “I believe she wonders where your brother is, sir,” she told him.

  “But why would she want to know that? I thought they took a dislike to each other.”

  His companion smiled enchantingly. “Have you not heard that there is a thin line between love and hate, sir? I do believe my sister reacts so to your brother because she is enamored of him. I have never seen her react so to another man, I assure you.”

  “Perhaps I should warn her about him,” murmured Miles thoughtfully, glancing back at Denbigh’s other daughter.

  “Oh, please do not, Mr. Prestwich,” said Gwen in distress. “I should not have spoken so out of turn, you see. It would embarrass her greatly to discover she had been found out. I regret telling my brother about it but I cannot undo that now.”

  “Lord Connor is aware of their attraction?” he asked in disbelief. He hoped the other man had refrained from mentioning it to Dare. If Dare was warned off, he might court the girl just to spite everyone.

  “Yes, I am afraid so. I confessed in a moment of unease over the angry words they exchanged yesternight. Con assured me he would look into it. I only hope he didn’t find anything… alarming.”

  Miles nearly groaned aloud. Of course, Lord Connor found something alarming lurking in Dare’s past. And Dare had mentioned meeting Lord Connor earlier that very day. It was inevitable that Lord Connor warned Dare to stay away from his sister.

  “Mr. Prestwich? Miles? Whatever is the matter?”

  The distress in Gwen’s soft voice pierced his ruminations and he smiled down at the petite beauty. “You just called me Miles,” he said in some wonder.

  “I admit, I did,” she confessed, her face turning a becoming shade of pink. “I apologize if you thought it forward of me, sir, but I could not get your attention otherwise.”

  “I do not think it forward
of you, my lady. I would be honored if you would call me Miles. And,” he added with a special smile that warmed her to her toes, “you always have my attention.”

  Chapter Five

  He tried, he really did. But it was no use. Dare’s contrary nature would not be silenced. He had been told a few things about Lord Connor that made him uneasy but he was self-destructive enough to disregard his own common sense. He decided to try to woo Lady Genevieve just to prove he could.

  He had no way of knowing that Lady Genevieve, who had been hurt at his obvious defection, was just as determined to ignore him should he try to come around now. Although, after a lecture from her brother, she was just as tempted to flout convention.

  Jenny was crossing the hall to enter the library when Connor stepped into the foyer. She went down to greet him with a hug and kiss, as was her habit, and inquired after his wife and children.

  “They are well, Jenny, they are well,” he said, smiling. “I wonder, could you spare me a few moments? I’d like to talk to you.”

  “You came expressly to see me?” she asked in some surprise.

  “Do not sound so like I ignore you the rest of the time, Jenny, I beg you. You make me feel like a boor,” he complained good-naturedly.

  “You could never be that, Con,” she said. “I was just on my way to the library to see if Father has a book on phosphates. I heard about this new way of planting that has me itching to read more about it but I also want to compare it to other writings about the use of phosphates.”

  Connor smiled at her enthusiasm for a topic most ladies shuddered to even think about. “I could share a bit of my own knowledge on the subject but I have a lowering feeling that you already know more than I do.”

  “Perhaps,” she allowed. “But we could talk about it anyway.”

  Connor took her arm and led her into their father’s spacious library. He steered her to a set of chairs flanking the large fireplace and pushed her down into one of them. His face was serious, intent, as if he had some dreadful news to impart.