by Jaimey Grant
“You were right.” Dare smiled. “So tell me all the news. I have not heard anything to date.”
Chapter Two
Lady Genevieve Northwicke stared at the young man with feigned incomprehension. She fluttered her eyelashes and gave him such an ingenuous look that he felt quite intelligent, which was just what she wanted him to think. The poor young captain had neither wit nor looks and Jenny did not have the heart to puncture his bubble of self-importance.
Finally growing tired of her feigned stupidity, she smiled and asked, “Captain Carter, would you be so good as to escort me to my sister. I do believe she is signaling me.”
“Of course, Lady Genevieve.” The captain bowed and held out his arm.
Jenny placed her hand on his arm and followed him across the crowded ballroom. She managed to keep the smile on her face until she reached her sister, Gwen. The captain bowed and moved away.
Jenny grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her behind a potted plant so they were in relative privacy. “Please, Gwen, get me out of here! If I have to act stupid to satisfy the vanity of one more witless young man, I’ll…I’ll—”
“Scream?” suggested Gwen. She gave her twin a sympathetic smile, her bright blue eyes twinkling. “You might do better punching them in the eye, Jenny. I almost did.”
Genevieve, the older of the twins, gave her sister a look of delight. “Who, Gwen? Was it Sir Gerald? He can be such a bore. Do you know he once gave me a jaw-me-dead when he caught me reading Plato in the original Greek? He actually told me ladies should not addle their brains with difficult reading materials. Their sole purpose in life is to look pretty so men can enjoy gazing upon them, act stupid so stupid men can feel intelligent, and faint at the sight of a spider so men can feel strong.” She released a sound that was suspiciously like a snort—if ladies made such a sound, that is, which they didn’t. Then she added darkly, “He did, however, think it was adorable that I was pretending to know how to read Greek.”
Gwen giggled. “When were you reading Plato, Jenny?”
“Three days ago at Lady Jersey’s rout. I was so tired of pretending to be something I’m not that I sneaked into the library for a good read. I was just getting to the good part when Sir Gerald walked in.” She grimaced. “I was sorely tempted to draw his cork.”
“Shh!” admonished Gwen. “If Mama hears you speaking cant she’ll make us listen to a lecture about the proper behavior becoming a lady. I can’t sit through another, I promise you. After the last one, I swore I’d run and hide.”
“How very unladylike, Gwen, to be sure,” replied her sister tartly. She spoiled the effect by laughing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the arrival of Lady Adam Prestwich. “Oh, let us go say hello to Bri, Gwen. I have not seen her this age. And she was always good for chasing away the doldrums.”
The twin beauties moved sedately across the floor, smiling serenely at gentlemen as they went. Both were well versed in the art of flirtation and it was automatic for them to do so. If they weren’t a duke’s daughters with notoriously high dowries, they’d be considered on the shelf, in fact. They were three-and-twenty and both had been inundated with offers of marriage, still were, in fact. Neither had found gentlemen they liked well enough for marriage, however, and so they were both still unwed.
Upon reaching Lady Prestwich, Gwen burst out with, “Oh, Bri, you are the answer to our prayers.” Then she caught sight of Miles Prestwich, a gentleman with whom she was slightly acquainted and more than slightly attracted to. She blushed prettily and offered him a smile.
Jenny noticed this little bit of by-play and rolled her eyes. Really, her sister could be such a ninny sometimes!
The sound of a male laugh jerked her attention to Bri’s other escort. Her eyes widened considerably and she had to bite her lip to avoid embarrassing herself by laughing outright.
Before her stood a replica of Miles, only, somehow, much more handsome, but in a piratical sort of way. His hair was longer than fashion dictated and tied at his nape with a black silk ribbon. His evening dress was flawless, his cravat a miracle of starch and linen with a blue diamond glowing from the folds, and his dancing pumps shined like black glass.
He had a decidedly roguish look in his dark blue eyes. It was this look that made her think of pirates and made her want to laugh. He looked very out of place in the glittering ballroom surrounded by members of the ton.
He stared right back at her, his look frankly appraising and Jenny surprised herself by returning the look hundredfold. His eyes darkened and she felt goose flesh break out on her arms. Her heartbeat accelerated and her palms grew moist. And all that from a simple look! What would it be like to actually touch the man?
She became aware suddenly that everyone’s attention was focused on her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t attending.”
Bri laughed. “That was apparent, my dear. I was merely introducing Miles’s brother, Dare. You may or may not acknowledge him, as is your preference,” she said carelessly, grinning hugely. “He is a bit of a rogue, a bit of a flirt, and a bit of a rake.” The older woman pursed her lips. “On second thought, you might do better to stay away from him.”
Dare seemed much amused by this assessment of his character. He made no reply, however, beyond admonishing Bri to be careful whom she informed of this fact.
“You admit to being these things?” Jenny asked with raised eyebrows.
“I admit nothing, Lady Genevieve,” he replied. “Confession leads too often to misunderstandings and assumptions better left…unassumed.”
“Many would disagree, Mr. Prestwich, and say that confession more often leads to better understanding.”
He snapped a smart bow, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Touché, my dear lady.”
The band chose that moment to strike up a waltz. Dare bowed to Jenny and asked if she cared to dance.
She accepted out of curiosity. “I was under the impression that you have been away for many years, sir. How is it that you know how to waltz?”
“What a savage you must think me,” he remarked lightly, placing one hand at her waist while the other took her hand in a strong clasp. “I have not been among only the uncivilized, you know. The waltz is danced in Germany.”
“I know that,” she replied with a tinge of asperity. Did he actually believe her to be so stupid that she did not know in which country the waltz originated?
Dare grinned down at the diminutive beauty in his arms. “Indeed? You didn’t exactly strike me as the type to know much beyond how to flirt and spend money.”
He made the comment just to rile her and he got just the reaction he wanted. She puckered up like an angry kitten and he strongly suspected she’d hiss and spit at him if she could do so without destroying her reputation beyond any sort of atonement.
“I’ll have you know,” she said angrily before she thought about what she was saying and to whom, “I happen to read extensively on every subject I can get my hands on. I would wager I have read more than you.”
“I would not take you up on that, little trumpeter,” he commented dryly, “considering I avoid reading like the plague.” Lord, he’d no idea the chit was a bluestocking. No wonder she was still unmarried at her advanced age.
As if she had read his mind, she said haughtily, “I do not go about bragging about my knowledge, sir. I know how to act around gentlemen.”
“From that comment, I can deduce one of two things,” he replied with a mocking twist of his finely molded lips. “One, you are a consummate actress and an accomplished liar or, two, you do not think me a gentleman and therefore subject me to your childish displays of temper and behavior.”
Her mouth dropped open further and further with every word until he was sure she would catch flies were she not careful.
“How dare you, sir!” she finally responded scathingly. She attempted to stop dancing but he tightened his hold on her, lessening the distance between them to a mere few inches.
“Release me! T
his dance is over,” she hissed.
“I think not, my dear. You were asking for that. I’ll not let you insult me by leaving me alone on the dance floor.”
So Jenny fumed silently until the dance was finished. She refused to answer any of his questions or rise to any of his baiting. The dance finally ended and she was escorted back to her sister.
Dare bowed mockingly. “Thank you, my lady, for the dance. Rarely have I been so…entertained.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
“Whatever did he mean by that?” wondered Gwen aloud.
“Oh, I don’t know,” snapped her sister, very annoyed indeed. “He is insufferable. I do not wish to speak about it.”
Gwen obliged her by remaining silent. But she couldn’t help but wonder what Darius Prestwich had said to so vex her twin.
“You were unforgivably rude to her, I think,” Miles told his brother on the way home that night.
Dare grunted, refusing to answer. That girl had managed to annoy him in a way no lady had ever done before and he would not acknowledge that perhaps he’d been just a bit too hard on her.
“She is a spoiled brat, Miles. It was time she had a proper setdown.”
Miles bristled. “She is a lady, Dare, not some strumpet who is paid to ignore your cruelty.” He flushed suddenly and glanced at Bri’s smirking face. “Your pardon.”
Bri nodded and would have replied but Dare was not finished arguing his case.
“The differences between a strumpet and a lady are money and power, Miles. Otherwise, a woman is a woman and they are all alike.” He sent Lady Prestwich a challenging look as if daring her to dispute his claim.
Bri just laughed. “For the most part, I have to agree. Oh, close your mouth, Miles, do before you catch a fly. As I was saying, ladies are not very different. Those without name merely sell their bodies in order to buy food. Ladies, on the other hand, sell their bodies into wedlock for position, security, and power. I leave it to you to determine the bigger whore of the two types.”
Dare and Miles stared. Bri shrugged. “It’s true, but I think Miles is right, Dare. Jenny is not deserving of your scorn, no matter what she said to you. If she were like other ladies, she’d have accepted the Duke of Bedford when he offered for her in her first season.”
“Bedford offered for Lady Genevieve?”
Bri smiled at the gentlemen. “Yes. Now I think we should focus on something else. My gossiping went rather well, I think. Soon everyone will believe Rory and I helped Merri kill her husband.” She was referring to her cousin’s wife, Aurora, and their friend, Leandra, whose husband, the Duke of Derringer, had recently gone missing. This was what had taken Adam away unexpectedly and he had taken Aurora’s husband, the Earl of Greville, with him.
Miles and Dare looked at her in disbelief and she laughed at the twin expressions. “It is when I say something so totally outrageous that the two of you actually look alike. Otherwise,” she shrugged, “you are very easy to tell apart.”
“I’ve never had any trouble,” quipped Dare.
“Nor I,” agreed Miles in a rare display of levity.
Dare gave him an approving look. “I knew I’d wear you down eventually,” he remarked lightly.
Miles frowned. “One light comment does not mean I am just like you now, Dare.”
“Heaven forbid! I wouldn’t ever assume such a thing, brother. I realize what a sad trial I am to you and all others forced to endure my company. Please accept my most humble apologies.” His look was a mask of humble penitence, eyes cast upward with a beseeching look and hands clasped before him as if in prayer.
“Oh, Dare,” laughed Bri, “you are a delight. I envision many interesting evenings this Season.”
Chapter Three
Dare glared at his new gentleman’s gentleman. The man insisted Dare have his hair cut and he was having none of it. After a heated debate regarding what was fashionable and what was not, Dare finally snapped.
“Shut your trap, you miserable fop!” he shouted. “I will not cut my hair, I will not change my attitude, and I will not bow to the whims of a starched-up tailor’s dummy!”
“I never—!” began the man in righteous indignation.
“Well, perhaps you should!” snapped Dare. He growled low in his throat, a sound that was so like an animal the valet stared at him, his pupils dilated instinctively in fear.
“Get out,” commanded Dare in a quieter voice. “I will hire someone willing to work with me, not against me.”
The valet, upset at losing a job but grateful for his freedom nonetheless, fled before Dare could change his mind. Dare glared at the closed door and sighed. Lord, he couldn’t do this. Moving about in the upper echelons of Society was wearing his patience dangerously thin.
He shoved a hand through his hair and stared at his reflection in the long mirror in his dressing room. His own face stared back, wavy black hair loose about his shoulders, his features set in lines of weariness. He didn’t think he looked anything like Miles at the moment and that pleased him to no end. His entire life, he’d had to watch his twin charm their parents and do everything right. He graduated first in their class from Eton and then Miles had gone on to graduate first in his class at Cambridge while Dare had run away from home. Miles solved every problem their father came up against on the tiny estate they’d grown up on—Miles was perfect.
This is what he’d had to grow up with. A perfect mirror image of himself doing everything right, never playing pranks, never getting into trouble, never becoming a by-word in Society, never doing anything to sully his sterling character. Therefore, every little bit of trouble Dare had managed to land himself in looked ten times worse. Miles was held up as the ideal although Dare was technically older. When Dare had turned sixteen, he’d begged Adam to send him on one of his ships so he could get out from under the disapproving stares of his family.
He would be forever grateful to Adam for doing just that. His life at sea had been hard work and made him take life seriously for once. He had thrived under the strict supervision of Captain James Ford, a man who became more of a father to Dare than his own had been.
A sad little frown tipped Dare’s lips as he thought of that gallant man. He had been aboard one of the ships that had been lost at sea. The Aphrodite had been the first to go down leaving the bodies of nearly every crewman floating in the water.
A chill ran over Dare every time he thought about it. He had been assigned to that ship but something had occurred to keep him bound to shore and he’d had to wait for the next of Adam’s shipping line. His extended visit in France had not been pleasant but, considering the alternative, he was grateful for small favors.
“Problems?” inquired Miles from the door.
Dare didn’t turn. “Nothing I need help with.”
Miles entered the room, closing the door firmly behind him. “Why did you come back?” he asked bluntly.
Dare turned to regard his brother, his eyes carefully blank. “I wanted to reunite with my dear brother, of course,” he said with a tinge of sarcasm. “Why do you think I returned?”
“To cause trouble,” Miles snapped, his face a mask of well-bred calm and ease in spite of his hurtful remark.
Dare had the urge to destroy his brother’s poise. Mostly because he envied him. Miles had always been held up as perfect. It was inevitable that Dare would believe it, too. That he wasn’t a paragon as well had always been an open wound with him.
Dare assumed an air of surprise. “Trouble, brother? I never cause trouble. It just seems to follow me wherever I go. I’m hurt you’d think so poorly of me.”
“Perhaps you can take it elsewhere this time,” Miles suggested mildly.
“No,” his brother stated bluntly, no longer jesting.
Miles sighed, shoving his hand through his short dark hair. “Why must you forever plague me?” he complained. “I thought you had found what made you happy and I was glad. I thought you’d not bother to come back with your…trouble. Why did you
choose now?”
Dare stared at his twin. It was the closest Miles had ever come to outright saying he did not like him and would rather live without him around. He wondered if his brother’s attitude had anything to do with a certain blue-eyed princess named Guinevere.
“What are you afraid of, Miles?” he asked gently. “Are you still angry with me over Belinda?”
Belinda Markwell had been a neighbor of theirs growing up in Exeter. Miles had had a boyhood tendre on her since they were in shortcoats and Dare, in one of his stupider moments, seduced the girl just to spite Miles. It was not something he was proud of but it had happened and he firmly believed the past was better left in the past. Dwelling on it just led to hard feelings and heartache.
A small voice in his head told Dare he was a hypocrite in this particular belief but he ignored it.
Miles drew himself up, his blue eyes glinting angrily. “I will not talk about that, Dare. Belinda was a gently reared girl and you were despicable to use her in such a fashion.”
“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.