by Jaimey Grant
Jenny laughed joyously, flirted modestly, and behaved properly at all times. But to anyone who cared enough to look beyond the surface, it was apparent in the cornflower blue of her eyes that she hid a deep and miserable fear.
It was her family who saw it, wondered at it, and privately attributed it to any number of female megrims. Lady Verena and Lady Prestwich, however, had a sinking feeling that they knew its cause and hoped against hope that they were mistaken.
It was while riding with Con and Verena that Jenny came to a startling realization. It had lingered in the back of her mind, festering for some weeks, but she’d managed to avoid giving the fear words.
And now, predictably while riding in such a public venue, it slammed into her full force, making her gasp for breath.
Lord Compton, her sometimes companion in the park, halted his dun mare, alarmed at the sudden pallor of his fair partner. Jenny also stopped, trying desperately to catch a breath but failing.
Lord Connor, alerted by Compton’s shout, raced forward, pulling to a stop beside his sister. She was gasping as if she were suffocating slowly. He threw himself from the saddle, grabbed her around the waist and hauled her down to sit on a nearby park bench. Pushing her head down ruthlessly between her knees, he ordered her tersely to calm down and breath, dammit!
Jenny tried. But the thoughts streaking through her brain quite simply would not allow her a single healing breath.
When she’d gone a full sixty seconds without a decent breath and her vision was turning black around the edges, her brother thumped her, none too gently, on the back.
Suddenly, her lungs began working properly again. She drew in one deep breath, then two, then three. Finally, Connor’s anchoring hand was removed and she could sit up.
Staring in dismay, she realized she’d created quite a scene. Members of Society gathered all around trying none-too-subtly to determine what ailed her. Heads craned over and around other heads, mouths bent to whisper into neighbor’s ears, and everyone formed some sort of conclusion. Mostly erroneous, but she just knew some of them were forming the right one.
And it almost terrified her into another fit.
“No, you don’t, Jenny,” snapped her brother. “Do not panic again.” His voice rose a bit, in order to reach the front members of their unwelcome audience. “Bluebell merely stumbled. You were not about to be thrown.”
Jenny thanked her brother for this unlikely excuse even as she cursed him for putting her equestrian skills in such a poor light. She’d always been a rather good rider but considering what the real problem was, she’d allow everyone to believe she had no business being on a horse.
Besides, wasn’t it dangerous to ride in her condition? What if she had been thrown?
Jenny just barely refrained from clutching protectively at her stomach. Pasting a rather sickly smile on her pale features, she assured her brother in an undertone that all was well and she’d merely been overcome with faintness. His look was dubious but he accepted her excuse with good grace and helped her to stand.
They returned sedately to Denbigh House, Lord Compton bidding them adieu at the door. Lord Connor ushered his sisters into the house and into an empty receiving room with a terse order to sit.
Rounding on them, Jenny in particular, he asked, “What is going on?” He waved a hand in the air, his expression warning them to be honest. “And none of this feeling faint nonsense. You’ve never felt faint a day in your life.”
Jenny looked indignant. “I have too. Remember Cousin Louisa’s wedding?”
Connor grunted. “That hardly counts. I felt faint. Lord, who would have thought she’d have the nerve to wear a black dress to her own wedding.”
Jenny and Gwen giggled helplessly. “Perhaps if she’d been marrying against her will but she honestly believed black was a becoming and appropriate color for a wedding,” gasped Gwen.
“Do you know she said she didn’t know what all the fuss was about,” added Jenny. “She had no idea her bosom was about to fall out of her bodice.”
The girls erupted into laughter and even Connor couldn’t keep back a smile or two.
After a moment, his lordship finally inserted dimly, “That is not to the point and you know it. Then, holding back your laughter brought on your faintness. Today was utter panic.” He paused, his gaze probing. With a sigh, he sat down on the settee between his sisters, making them edge closer to the arms. “Jenny, I have seen that look before and prayed to God then to never see it again. Please tell me what caused it.”
Part of Jenny wanted desperately to do just that. Another part, the saner, more sensible part, knew that to tell her brother at this moment would be to sign Dare’s death warrant.
“It was a momentary qualm, nothing more, dear brother,” she said, kissing his cheek.
It was obvious from his expression that he would not be swayed, so she added, a little maliciously, “If you must know, it’s my time and I felt a stomach cramp.”
A snort came from Gwen, who knew that wasn’t the case. Connor flushed a little, smiling self-deprecatingly. “I’m sorry I asked,” he muttered.
He left a few moments later. Gwen turned to her sister. “He did not believe you, you know.”
“I know,” the elder of the twins sighed. “It was all I could think of that might make him stop questioning me.”
Gwen stared at her mirror image for a long moment. “Will you tell me?”
Jenny stood and moved the to the long window overlooking the back gardens. She didn’t really see anything beyond her own reflection in the leaded panes of glass.
Dropping her gaze to her clenched fingers, she whispered, “I’m pregnant.”
Chapter Ten
When the silence lengthened to near-breaking point, Jenny turned. She regarded her sister in abject misery. She sniffed against incipient tears, determined to prevent their falling.
“Are you sure?” Gwen asked tonelessly. “Absolutely sure?”
Jenny nodded, a tear escaping to slide down her pale cheek. “I have missed my monthly twice. You know I’ve never missed one before.”
“And you only just now realized?”
Jenny nodded.
“Dear God, what will we do? You can’t have a…bastard. Father will kill us both.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
Gwen threw her hands up in dismay. “I don’t know what to tell you either! You will have to confess to Father.” She bit her lip, distressed. “I just hope Con doesn’t find out.” Once again meeting her sister’s eye, she asked, “Who is the father? No, wait, I know. It’s Dare. How could he?”
Jenny’s expression turned wry. “Can you blame him when I offered myself so freely? He is not to blame.”
“Of course he is, you ninny! He is the gentleman; he should have shown some restraint.”
Favoring her twin with a pitying look, Jenny retorted, “It is the lady’s obligation to always maintain distance and modesty with an unmarried gentleman. Who do you believe Society will blame, Gwen? Father and Con may place the responsibility squarely on Dare’s shoulders, but they still treat us as though we have just emerged from the schoolroom.”
“And you have just proven they have reason to do so,” Gwen snapped. Turning on her heel, she left the room, closing the chamber door with an angry click.
Jenny sank down on settee, her eyes again filling with miserable tears. She wanted Dare to magically appear and make everything all right.
But that wasn’t going to happen. He was gone only God knew where doing only God knew what.
And Jenny was left here, carrying a precious burden inside her that she wanted more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. Except…
Except, she wanted Dare there to share it with her.
It was with something of a passive sensation that Jenny realized the Empire waist style so popular was to her benefit. Although her stomach was still the same as ever, she knew it would not be long before her pregnancy would begin to show.
If only she could keep her secret until the last possible moment.
Alas for ‘if onlys’. It was two days after she confessed to her sister that her mother approached her, a militant gleam in her blue eyes.
Jenny halted on her way to the library, her stance nearly as defiant as her expression.
“Mother?” she inquired in as polite a tone as she could muster.
“Genevieve, may I have a word with you?”
Jenny dutifully followed her mother to the latter’s sitting room. Lady Denbigh’s choice of setting merely concreted Jenny’s supposition that her mother knew.
Her surety was further supplemented when her mother sat but offered no chair to her daughter.
“Is there something you’d care to tell me, Genevieve?”
“What could I tell you that you don’t already know?” the girl asked flippantly.
“I will thank you to watch your tone with me, young lady,” her mother snapped back. “I heard an ugly rumor but, knowing you as I do, I discounted it as mere maliciousness. Your attitude leads me to believe otherwise.”
Jenny sighed. “Pray accept my sincere apologies, Mama. What have you heard?”
The duchess’s face softened. “Sit down, dear.” She waited a moment until her daughter complied. “It has come to my attention that you have behaved…improperly…with a certain gentleman of our acquaintance.”
Jenny’s lips twisted in something akin to actual humor. It was almost amusing to hear her mother describe her fall from grace in such a roundabout way.
“Mother, if you are asking whether I tossed my virtue away on a man hardly worth my time, let alone my affections, it is, unfortunately, true.”
It almost pained her to see the misery attach itself to her mother’s lovely countenance. But she was too far steeped in her own despair and fears to pay much heed to what she caused others.
The duchess sighed hugely. “It is true?” Her voice was so faint, Jenny had to strain to hear. “Is that the end of it? Is there more?”
A bit of Jenny’s flippant attitude returned. “What more could there possibly be, Mother? I gave him my virginity and he left the next day. Well, that very day, if you’d care to be precise about it. So he cannot be forced to marry me since no one knows where he is.”
“Not even his brother?”
Jenny studied her mother’s fine-boned features. “No, Miles does not know where he is. Gwen would have told me else.”
Lady Denbigh’s eyes filled with tears of frustration and pain. “And if he knew about the child? Would he come then?”
“No. I’m sure he would run farther away.”
“There is nothing to be done then. You will have to go to another country to have the child, leave it there and return to a semblance of your former life.”
“No.”
The duchess was speechless. Her wide blue eyes grew until they dominated her face. “Excuse me?”
Jenny remained adamant although her surprise at her own declaration threatened to undo her. “I said no. No, I will not go away. No, I will not give up my baby. No, I will not return as if nothing happened. No.”
“But, darling, you have to. How else will you survive the ostracism?”
The younger woman’s face grew pensive. “You are right,” she relented. Her mother’s features relaxed until Jenny added, “I will have to leave Town at least. Society may say what they wish about me but I don’t need to be around to hear it. I will not give up my child.”
That evening before dinner, Jenny was told to wait upon her father’s pleasure in his study. She had some misgivings but was determined to hold to her decision to keep her baby.
The duke was seated behind his desk, perusing some paper that had him frowning mightily. Jenny hesitated, not wanting to interrupt, but he must have heard her enter.
“Sit down, child.”
Inside, she relaxed just a bit. If he’d been truly upset, he’d not have called her that.
She sat, arranging her skirts just so. When she looked up, her father was watching her, the look of disappointment in his gray eyes like a slap in the face.
Her breath caught on a sob. “I’m sorry, Papa. I truly am.”
His look didn’t change. “I’m sure you are. Now. Hindsight ever was perfect.”
An uncomfortable silence fell in which Jenny wanted to make excuses…but she had none to give. She’d made a mistake and now she’d have to pay the price of her actions.
Finally, after what seemed like hours but was in fact only minutes, the duke said, almost conversationally, “Your mother tells me you will not give up the child.”
“No, sir, I will not.”
He seemed a little surprised at her firm tone. “You do realize, of course, that this will affect our whole family.”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“And this may affect Gwen’s chances at a good match.”
Jenny swallowed painfully. “I understand.”
“And yet, you would bring scandal down on all our heads just so you can have your live doll to play with when you feel like it and put away when you’re bored with it.”
Jenny shot to her feet. “NO! I want this child because it’s mine. Because it has more opportunity for happiness with me than some poor family who already has a dozen mouths to feed. Because it’s a part of Dare and is the only part I’ll ever have.” Her words ended on a strangled sob. She pressed her fingers to her lips, willing the choking tears back.
“Selfish reasons, to be sure,” her sire said callously.
Jenny merely nodded, admitting at least that much.
“And yet, I wonder,” the duke mused. “If you gave the child up, you could go on as if nothing occurred. You could pretend you had not borne a child out of wedlock, go to parties, and make a brilliant match. In short, you could forget your mistake and most likely learn nothing from it…a far more selfish decision, if one were to think about it.”
A moment of taut silence followed. The duke watched his daughter intently but dispassionately. Jenny stared down at her hands, trying to form the words she needed to say and make her father understand.
“I would have the responsibility of my indiscretion, my lord,” she whispered. “I need the responsibility of my indiscretion. I need this baby and this baby needs me.”
“Will you love the child, my girl? Or will you berate it every day of its life for being born?”
Looking him directly in the eye, she vowed, “I will love this child with every beat of my heart and every breath in my body.” She paused to swallow another rising sob. Her next words were barely heard over the sudden commotion in the hall outside the study. “I already do.”
Lord Connor Northwicke was fit to be tied. He’d heard through an acquaintance that Jenny had managed to get herself in serious trouble. Threatening to call the man out for slandering his sister had only resulted in pitying glances that had further enraged him.
Now, Connor wanted the truth. He stomped into his father’s townhouse, shaking rainwater from his hair having conveniently forgotten his hat. The icy rivulets running beneath his collar did not help his mood.
The duke’s butler was properly impassive, taking the young lord’s coat and gloves and informing him that his grace, the duke was in conference with Lady Genevieve in the study.
“I’ll announce myself,” he told the butler coldly. He moved to the study in the back of the ground floor. The staccato beat of his footsteps accurately portrayed the dangerous depths to which his mood had sunk.
He paused outside the door, took a deep breath to try to calm himself, and knocked once. He opened the door even as his father was bidding him to do so.
“I apologize, Father, for bursting in on you like this.”
His glance found his sister’s weeping form and he cursed. He didn’t bother to apologize even with the duke’s admonishing eye silently reprimanding him.
“I’ll kill the blighter!”
Jenny surged to her feet, her own temper ignited. “You
will not, Connor! You will leave him to live whatever life he chooses. If he doesn’t want me, that’s his choice.”
He ignored her, addressing their father. “You can’t possibly let him get away with this, sir.”
The duke merely lifted an eyebrow as he slowly stood. “What can I do, short of hunting Prestwich down? Adam has not been around so I’m sure does not know his whereabouts nor does Miles.”
“Then I’ll do it.”
“Where do you propose to start looking, Con?” Denbigh asked reasonably. Then, surprisingly, he added, “I’ve had runners looking for the young man. Darius does not want to be found. It’s as if he never existed.”
For some reason, instead of increasing his temper, as such tidings should, Connor’s anger swiftly deflated. He slumped into a seat next to Jenny’s, heedless of the rudeness of sitting while a lady was standing.
“It simply cannot be left this way,” he muttered. “She cannot go through the hell in store for her. She must have a husband.”
Jenny sat, her depression once again settling upon her like a shroud. “I will survive, Con. You needn’t take on my woes as your own.”
He turned his head to look at her. She flinched at the angry disappointment still visible in his blue eyes. “Needn’t I? It is up to me to defend your honor, as your brother and Father’s heir. What does it say about me that I do not do so?”
“I admit I was wrong. But I am as much at fault as Dare. And if he sees fit to stay away, there is nothing anyone can do about it.”
“Where will you go to have the child?”
“Home,” she answered decisively. “I will go back to Denbigh Castle.” Her eyes met those of her father. “And if I am not welcome there, I shall make my way somewhere else. I have my legacy from Grandmother and it is sufficient to keep a small house.”
Her father nodded and she was relieved. He had the right to deny her the inheritance since she had yet to reach the age of five-and-twenty.
