Regency 09 - Redemption (5 page)

“I know, Miles, I know.”
Dare sighed. “I apologized a thousand times over for that and I
don’t think I deserve to be reminded of my adolescent stupidity
every day for the rest of my life.”

“She’s dead, Dare. You
wouldn’t marry her and she killed herself.”

Dare froze. “You think that
was my fault?” he asked.

“Everyone
knows
it was your fault. She was pregnant, Dare.”

He hadn’t known at the time. It
wasn’t until much later that the truth had finally come out. But he
also hadn’t been the first or last man she’d been with. The
possibility of the child being his was small.

He could have told Miles
this and retained at least a tiny portion of his twin’s respect.
But he didn’t want to harm Belinda’s reputation any more than he
already had. If everyone believed him to have abandoned her so
callously, so be it. He could withstand the taint to his name. He
didn’t enjoy being in Society anyway.

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.

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.”