Regency 09 - Redemption (16 page)

Dare waited. He knew his
twin, and he knew Miles would know he was there. He would be down
to…probably hit him, momentarily.

Dare glanced around the
open foyer and sat in a chair against the wall. He wondered where
the footman had got to who was supposed to be sitting there.
Probably off informing the house that the “prodigal” returned, he
though wryly.

Leaning back, he closed his
eyes briefly, knowing what a precarious position such an action
would put him in. His mind whirled back and forth over the events
of the past months. Part of him, now, had no idea why he’d ever run
in the first place. He should have stayed and at least tried to
convince Jenny’s family that he was worthy of being her
husband.

His lips twisted cynically.
He should not have touched her that night, invitation or
not.

He heard a step a moment
later. His eyes opened slowly to see his brother bearing down on
him, fury emanating from his every pore. If Dare hadn’t been the
target of that anger, he’d have laughed.

Standing, he said, “And how
is the happy bridegroom? Have you married her yet?”

He dodged the fist aimed at
his face, but only just. The next fist met with his hand. He
clenched his fingers over it, in far better physical shape than his
bookworm brother was.

“Let go,” snapped
Miles.

Dare released him with a
little jerk, nearly toppling the other man to the
ground.

“I will allow that you have
every right to hit me, Miles. But I will not let you do so
here.”

Miles nearly growled. Dare
was amazed at how different he was behaving. His brother, the
epitome of gentlemanly conduct, was acting like an
animal.

He couldn’t help it. He
laughed. And Miles lunged for him.

Backing quickly away, Dare
said placatingly, “Miles, I assure you, you can beat me as much as
you want. Later. Right now, I need to know why you’ve promised to
marry Jenny.”

Miles took a deep breath,
trying to calm his rage. “Yes, oddly enough, you are right. We
should not do this here.” He sent a significant look toward the
back of the domicile where, Dare was quite sure, a group of very
interested servants hovered.

Moments later, the two
brothers were standing in Adam’s study. Dare glanced around,
asking, “Has Adam returned yet?”

“No. Bri said Lord
Derringer was found and Adam remained there for a while to patch a
few things up.” He turned, facing his brother with the stoicism for
which he was well known. “And where have you been?”

“America, mostly,” he
shrugged. “I was in Bath, on my way back, when I picked up a London
paper over a week old. Imagine my surprise,” he finished
dryly.

“Damn your surprise, man!
I’m engaged to Jenny because you were not here to fix your mess.
Tell me, Dare. Will it always be up to me to clean up after
you?”

“I don’t understand what
the big tragedy is, Miles.”

Miles’s eyes widened until
they threatened to pop. Dare’s grew, too, reflexively.

Then, abruptly, Miles
frowned. “You don’t know. No, how could you?” he muttered to
himself.

It was Dare’s turn to
frown. And he did. With great displeasure. “What don’t I
know?”

“Sit down,
Dare.”

Dare wasn’t sure he wanted
to comply but decided the news would be bad no matter what he did.
So he sat.

Miles didn’t. He started
pacing. Yet another action so unlike his brother that Dare grew
very worried indeed.

Trying to lighten the mood,
he quipped, “Miles, this behavior is very unbecoming in a
gentleman. You make me dizzy to watch you.”

Miles stopped abruptly,
glaring. His next words were cruelly blunt, angered as he was by
his twin’s continued disregard for what was a very serious
matter.

“Jenny’s
pregnant.”

Dare stared at his brother,
uncomprehending. He blinked twice, slowly. Then, “Excuse
me?”

“You heard me,” snapped
Miles. He sat in the chair behind the desk, glowering at Dare all
the while. He refused to say more.

Dare was having trouble
breathing. His neckerchief felt too tight and he was quite sure his
face was turning purple. His mind just couldn’t wrap itself around
the idea that Jenny, his Jenny, was going to have a
baby.

“Is it mine?” he asked,
stupidly.

A very foul word passed his
brother’s lips. “I should kill you outright for that, Dare,” he
said through gritted teeth.

Dare shook his head,
muttering, “No, of course it is. She would never…”

“No, she
wouldn’t.”

Seeming to find some sort
of relief in this firm statement, Dare nodded. “No, she wouldn’t. I
know she wouldn’t.”

“Dare, I can’t break the
engagement,” Miles said, almost gently.

Dare started. “Why the hell
not?” He almost came out of his chair in his agitation.

Dare had not actually
thought about Miles breaking the engagement. But now that the
subject was out for an airing, he wanted to know why. Jenny was
his, after all, not Miles’s.

Miles sighed as if the
weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “She was ruined
before, based solely on rumor, but if I jilt her now, she will be
ruined solely on fact. Not to mention Gwen will die an old maid.
Even now, her chances of marriage are not good.”

Dare cursed himself. Miles
was in love with Gwen. It was in the way he said her name with a
bittersweet hopelessness. Dare had always suspected as much but his
brother’s inflection merely assured him that it was
fact.

“Miles, break the
engagement. I’ll marry her. You can marry Gwen.”

Miles
shot his brother a disgusted look. “Do you honestly believe Denbigh
would let me marry Gwen? She’s the one who
didn’t
disgrace herself. She may still
have a chance at a good alliance. Jenny, on the other hand, has no
chance and the duke will accept me as a son-in-law to satisfy
family honor.”

“Honor ever was overrated,”
grumbled Dare.

“The very fact that you
feel that way proves you have none. Of course, impregnating Jenny
proved that very well anyway.”

Dare gave his brother a
steady look. “I’ve often wondered if you’ve actually wanted me to
beat you to a bloody pulp. Now more than ever.”

“Beating me will not make
me break the engagement,” Miles sneered.

“I would do it purely for
pleasure, I assure you.” Rising, Dare prowled around, looking for
anything with enough alcohol to numb at least some of his rioting
emotions. Predictably, Adam’s office was bare of liquid refreshment
since Miles was the only one who really used the room.

“Dammit, why can’t you have
even one blasted bottle of something in here? I’d swear you were a
monk except even they would drink wine.”

A scratching at the door
interrupted Miles’s retort. West entered with a tray, a bottle, and
one glass. He bowed before Dare, a slight smile tugging at his
lips.

Dare quirked an eyebrow at
the old man. “Listening at doors again, West, my good man? No
matter. I’ll forgive you much for bringing me this.” His grin left
little doubt as to his sincerity.

The butler actually smiled
fleetingly. “I wasn’t listening, Master Dare. I anticipated. As is
my obligation.” He snapped a short bow and left the two gentlemen
alone.

“I notice he brought only
the one glass. Are you a monk, then?”

Dare glanced at Miles and
was surprised at the sardonic smile twisting his brother’s lips. “I
assure you, brother, I am not. West knows I do not
drink.”

Dare poured and quaffed two
fingers of some of the best Irish whisky he’d ever had. It crawled
into his belly, unfurling a pleasing warmth that soon spread to his
extremities. The comfort was immediate and nearly complete. For
complete comfort, he’d need to find a way out of the mess he’d
created. He poured another drink instead.

“You do not drink,” Dare
mused, swirling the liquid in the glass. He stared reflectively
into the amber depths. “You do not smoke. You do not gamble. You do
not indulge your passions. You do not use foul language.” He
paused, eyes raised just above the glass but not actually fixed on
anything. Then, they swiveled just a bit to meet his twin’s. “No, I
am mistaken. You do use foul language. Very foul indeed.” His eyes
were silently laughing.

“You’re a bloody bastard,
Dare.”

At that, Dare laughed. “No,
brother,” he said, facetiously taking Mile’s statement literally,
“I am as legitimate as you are, I assure you.”

Miles didn’t deign to
reply.

Dare released a bitter
laugh. “I suppose this is the price we all pay for my sins.
Astounding that I could have so much effect on the world at large,
is it not?”

Again, Miles said
nothing.

Dare uttered an oath that
made Miles’s earlier one seem tame in comparison. His fingers
tightened alarmingly around his glass, the knuckles turning white.
He was tempted to dash the thing against the hearth, but refrained.
Barely. He carefully set the receptacle on the desk.

In a movement as agitated
as his thoughts, he pushed his hand through his hair ripping the
riband out to drop forlornly to the carpet. “Why do you calmly
accept things the way they are?” he raged. He fisted his hands on
his hips, dark hair wildly askew. “You don’t want to marry her any
more than, I’ll warrant, she wants you. And anyone with half a
brain can see you want Gwen. Why the devil do you sit there on your
hands?”

Miles stood up halfway
through this tirade. His hands were braced on the desk as if he
would leap it and go for Dare’s throat.

Somehow managing to
maintain calm despite his fury, Miles explained in a clipped voice,
“Do you not think one wastrel in the family is quite enough? If I
do not obey Society’s strictures, our entire family will be
shamed.”

“Who bloody well cares for
Society, anyway!”

“I do!” Miles paused,
swallowing. “Jenny and Gwen do as well.”

Dare sighed. “Miles, you
don’t really care and you know it. Jenny and Gwen find the Season
tedious and dull and you know that, too. How can you throw away
your happiness for my miserable mistake?”

Miles slumped back into his
chair. “It’s just not that simple, Dare.”

“Tell me.”

A sigh of deep weariness
escaped Miles’s throat. “Do you know what it’s like,” he began
softly, staring into his brother’s eyes, “to be related to
you?”

“A constant trial, I’ve
little doubt.”

Miles lips tipped up
slightly at the corners. “True,” he murmured. “A constant trial.
Always doing whatever you want; never stopping to consider the
consequences; forever landing yourself in more trouble with each
passing day than the one previous. And everyone looking to me to
fix it. Always. And still, at eight-and-twenty years old, you
manage to land yourself in the biggest pickle yet: you seduced and
impregnated a duke’s daughter. For the sanity and well-being of all
those involved, I beg you to not interfere.”