Regency 09 - Redemption (25 page)

Several minutes later, Dare
found himself outside a small house, handsomely built in a pleasing
setting—or it would have been if the rain was not still making its
annoying presence felt. It crossed his mind that his brother might
be a gentleman farmer now and he couldn’t stop the laugh that
escaped.

The door opened before he
even reached it. Miles stood there, his face as blank as ever, his
eyes glittering with what looked suspiciously like tears. Dare
shook his head. It was just the rain, fouling up his
sight.

He had reason to reassess
his conjecture when his brother reached over the few feet that
separated them and dragged him into his arms.

“Thank God you’re home,”
Miles said in the most natural way, just as if Dare belonged
there.

And an
ache in his chest told Dare more clearly than words that he
wanted
to belong
there.

Pushing himself away, he
quipped, “So, I hear you are married now?”

Gwen was getting big with
child, her radiance a beacon on this ugly, gray day. Dare wondered
if Jenny was so beautiful when she was big with his child. He
wished, yet again, that he’d been there to see it.

Miles noticed the direction
of his twin’s stare. “The midwife predicts twins,” he informed him,
his normally serious expression softening into
amusement.

“Ah,” Dare replied, the
only word he could manage past the lump in his throat. He raised
the glass of whiskey he held, downing it in the vain hope that it
would drown the incipient tears he felt burning behind his
eyes.

How, he
wondered irrelevantly, does one actually
drown
tears?

Miles frowned, motioning to
his wife to leave the room. She nodded and rose as gracefully as
she was able, leaving the gentlemen to themselves.

Miles leaned forward, not
having missed his brother’s distress. “Have you been to see her
yet?”

Dare silently shook his
head. “I am thinking about running again. What do you think?” he
said, his mind agreeing violently while his heart threatened to
kill him for even thinking such a thing.

“If I thought you were in
earnest, I’d be obliged to stop you.”

“Indeed,” murmured Dare,
refilling his whiskey. He pondered the interesting question of how
much it would take to make him oblivious to his own rocky emotions.
“I am such a coward!”

The words burst out as if
trying to escape, creating a tension in the room that Dare bitterly
wished didn’t exist.

“You are not a coward,
Dare,” his brother responded, sincerity positively oozing from his
tone.

Dare’s grip tightened on
his glass. “I run when I’m scared, Miles. What is that if not
cowardice?”

Miles did not agree. “You
may run but you always come back to face the consequences. What is
that if not bravery?”

“Perhaps I should have
tried to be more like you,” Dare mused, almost to himself. “Father
constantly berated me for being such a loose screw, for not having
the sense God gave a gnat.” He met his brother’s eyes. “He told me
once that if I was more like you, he’d like me better.”

Miles was stupefied. “He
always told me I was too stiff-necked and should be more like you,
learn to enjoy myself. He constantly berated me for wanting to hide
in my books and papers instead of living my life.”

The brothers gazed at each
other in honest amazement. It had never occurred to them that their
father was the reason that they held such resentment for one
another.

“Well,” Dare muttered
finally, quaffing his drink. He refilled the glass and handed it
silently to his brother.

Miles accepted the glass,
stared at his twin for another moment, then lifted the tumbler and
swallowed the amber liquid.

“So much for never
drinking,” Dare commented dryly.

“Quite,” his brother
agreed. He handed the glass back, however, and waved away the offer
of a refill.

“It’s time, Dare,” Miles
said so quietly that his twin almost didn’t hear him.

Inwardly, Dare sighed. Yes,
it was time. Part of him rejoiced that he was finally to see the
woman he loved after six interminable months without her. The other
part rebelled at the inevitable rejection he would receive at her
oh so delicate hands. What woman would want a cowardly husband,
after all?

“Madam, would you like me
to help you dress?”

Jenny barely heard her
maid’s offer through the dense fog that seemed to have taken up
residence in her mind. It was the same offer made every morning.
And every morning, Jenny refused, preferring to cocoon herself away
in her bed, pretending her life was not what it was.

How could she have come to
this pass? Her husband preferred his travels to her. Her baby boy
died in her arms. Her baby girl did nothing but cry. And she felt
so lost and so alone that she couldn’t even dredge up a modicum of
her innate pride to rescue her from complete mental
breakdown.

It was too much to be
borne!

Something in Jenny snapped.
She was unsure if that something actually broke or if it had
actually somehow righted itself in her numbed brain. She didn’t
care.

Raising herself up on her
weakened arms, she nodded to Lucy. “Yes, Lucy, I do believe I will
dress today.”

Jenny sat in a rocking
chair in the little room just off her own. It was this room that
sheltered her child, the precious, beautiful little girl with black
hair and pale blue eyes. Jenny cradled the infant to her breast,
suckling the baby and crooning meaningless little words that meant
the entire world to the child, as she rocked back and
forth.

Miranda made soft little
sounds of contentment as she released her mother’s breast and
yawned sleepily. Jenny adjusted her clothing and continued rocking
her baby, marveling at such perfection. How could she have been so
selfish as to ignore this perfect little girl?

Her heart would always ache
for her baby boy, the little being who should have been there to be
raised as his father’s heir.

A choking sob caught in her
throat. She held it back, refusing to cry anymore. As if discerning
her suffering, Miranda fussed, clenching and unclenching her tiny
fists.

Jenny sensed another
presence intruding. Glancing up briefly, she saw her brother-in-law
leaning against the doorpost and frowned, returning her gaze to her
daughter. “Good morning, Miles,” she said absently. When he didn’t
respond, she looked up again, her eyes narrowed in
question.

Her heart stopped beating
for a long moment then picked up faster than before.

Dare.

His dark brows were raised
in amusement. She saw the smile in his eyes and the one on his
lips. His long hair was pulled back, as usual. His arms were
crossed over his chest and he appeared utterly at ease.

Jenny sensed the coiled
tension in him, however. He was unsure of his reception, she
realized, and was bracing himself for her rejection.

Rising slowly so as not to
disturb her sleeping child, Jenny moved to the bassinet near the
window. She very carefully set the baby down, maintaining abnormal
control over her suddenly trembling body.

Not even looking up, Jenny
brushed right by her husband. She could feel him watching her but
she didn’t care.

Feeling as though her heart
was breaking and not exactly sure why, Jenny retreated to her
bedchamber.

Dare was astounded by the
change in his wife. She had always been rather delicate but now she
was nearly skeletal—far too thin for a woman who’d recently given
birth to twins.

In fact, her entire
appearance had suffered in her decline. Her unbound hair was dull
and her pale blue eyes seemed almost lifeless in her gaunt
face.

He made to follow her but
the unwelcome thought intruded that perhaps she would not want him
to. He hesitated one second before brushing the thought firmly
aside.

She was in her room, seated
at her dressing table, dragging a brush through her long blond
curls. He stepped up behind her and gently removed the brush from
her trembling fingers.

He took over the task, not
speaking. She kept her eyes downcast, and twisted her hands
together in her lap but she didn’t stop him as he half expected her
to do.