by Jaimey Grant
The lady’s cheeks bloomed pink. “I thought I was helping. Gwen assured me that Miles loves her and you love Jenny.”
“Gwen assured you? And that’s another thing. This doesn’t sound like Gwen. This sounds more like… damnation! It was Jenny and you. Gwen had nothing to do with it.”
Adam muttered a few choice oaths at Dare’s realization and his wife’s headstrong interference. “Denbigh will have all our hides for this, make no mistake.”
Dare groaned. He flopped back and threw an arm dramatically over his eyes. “I am lost,” he muttered. “What shall I do now? My brother is gone. His betrothed waits in vain for him.”
Bri punched him. And it was no frail action, either. Dare laughed even as he yelped in sudden pain.
“Good God, woman! Do you realize the damage you could have done had you aimed lower?” His laughter took the sting out of his words but Bri continued to glare at him anyway.
“I should have struck you there, you ignorant clod.”
“That’s twice in the four-and-twenty hours I’ve been called a clod,” he mused to Adam. “Could there be truth in it, do you think?”
Adam grunted. “Undoubtedly.”
Dare’s face split into a wide grin as if something momentous had just occurred. And perhaps it had.
“Do you suppose Miles will be less uptight after this?” he asked his companions, truly delighted with the idea.
Adam ignored him. “Who actually kidnapped them, Bri?”
She looked away and mumbled something indistinct. Adam emitted a low sound of warning. Bri’s head shot up defiantly and she snapped, “Vi! Levi agreed to do it. Viewed it as quite a lark, in fact, eager as he was to bring Miles down from his lofty pedestal.”
“Levi? Lord Greville?”
Adam nodded to Dare. “Bri’s incredibly dull-witted cousin, Levi, Lord Greville. Ever will that sapskull be a thorn in my side.”
“Oh, Bri, you may have actually created a scandal to overshadow mine.”
“Perhaps I have, Dare. But there is something you should know. Jenny had nothing to do with it. Gwen finally took matters into her own hands.”
Lord Connor Northwicke was seen by several acquaintances marching into Lockwood House in the devil of a temper. It was speculated that he was there to do murder but who would be his victim was in question.
Many assumed Mr. Darius Prestwich was the one Lord Connor sought. And yet, it was Mr. Miles who had done the unthinkable and eloped with Lady Guinevere. But, since Miles was in absentia, it was speculated that perhaps the young lord was there intent on murdering his lifelong friend, Sir Adam.
Adam received Connor in his study, mentally sighing. It was not an interview he anticipated with any sort of eagerness. All he felt was resignation and his own desire to do his two young cousins an injury.
Lord Connor sat, his face arranged in lines of disappointed anger. Adam reclined in his chair, his own face revealing nothing of his feelings, as usual.
“I do not hold you responsible in any way, Adam,” Connor told him quietly. “They are grown men, after all, and should know better how to behave.”
Adam’s lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Ah, yes. Grown men.” He picked up a quill from his desk and stared at it, his eyes unfocused and his mind rebelling from what he had to tell his best friend.
“Actually, Con, it is my fault,” he said, glancing up as he tossed the pen back on the desk.
Lord Connor’s surprise was writ plain in his expression. “You forced Dare to seduce Jenny? Or do you speak of the elopement?”
Adam sighed. “The elopement. Apparently, Miles had nothing to do with it. Gwen planned it all…with Bri’s help.”
Connor nodded. “I see. Would chasing them down do any good, do you think?”
Adam shook his head. “Miles will marry her and perhaps it would be best at this point. If she returns unmarried still, her reputation will be less than Jenny’s. And knowing Miles as I do, he will not let that happen.”
“I thought as much,” Connor admitted. “I just don’t understand why they could not have approached my father, as is proper, and asked for their hands.”
“Would he have listened? Two young men, one with a blackened past, neither with very deep pockets, neither in possession of a title, asking for the hands of the daughters of the Duke of Denbigh? I admit that I understand why they did not even bother.”
“That’s a little unfair of you, Adam,” Connor remonstrated. “We are not so shallow as that.”
“What have you to do with it, Con? Would it not have been your father’s decision?”
His friend’s seeming hostility nonplussed Connor. But then, this was Adam’s family they discussed and he could understand protective bonds of familial devotion.
But it was Connor’s sisters who were ruined by the Prestwich men. That was something that gave Connor the right to feel any damn way that he pleased.
“This discussion will accomplish nothing but hard feelings between the two of us, the two in the whole situation with the least power,” Adam inserted calmly. “Has Denbigh decided what he will do about Jenny?”
“He wants Dare to marry her,” Connor revealed without preamble. “Jenny has agreed. Seemed almost pleased, in fact, although I think it may be simple relief that her child will not suffer the ignominy of bastardy.”
Adam kept his thoughts on that nonsensical assumption to himself. He had never known Connor to be so dense before but perhaps his concern for his sisters blinded him to what was obvious.
Connor rose. “Have Dare come round tomorrow afternoon. Father will inform him of his options then.”
Adam nodded, watching Lord Connor leave. Something in the other man’s manner was not right. Adam had a feeling Dare was not going to like Denbigh’s proposition.
Chapter Fifteen
“I have a proposition for you, young man.”
Dare eyed Lord Denbigh warily. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the man suggested Dare take a long walk off a short pier. Indeed, he wouldn’t have blamed him.
“Indeed,” was all he said in reply, completely devoid of emotion.
“As you are the reason my daughter finds herself in this… untenable position, it seems only fair that you make it right.”
Dare hardly dared hope. Was the duke actually suggesting he marry Jenny? Could his life actually turn out so well?
“In what way, your grace?”
The Duke of Denbigh gave him a long, considering look. “You will marry her, of course. Is there any other way?”
Dare released a breath he’d not realized he was holding. It took every ounce of his willpower to stifle the shout of joy that welled up inside him. “Indeed not. Of course I shall marry her,” he managed to say blandly.
The duke fingered the quill he held, solemnly regarding the young man before him. “You will not receive the dowry I had thought to settle on her. She will be given an annuity from her grandmother’s legacy that will allow her to live in modest comfort, but she will retain power over her own funds.”
Although offended, Dare didn’t show it. “I expected nothing less,” he admitted in the same bland, almost bored tone.
And it was true. It made sense that they would assume he was a fortune hunter and Dare hadn’t seen fit to inform anybody otherwise. Not even Adam knew exactly how much he was worth. He almost wished he could see the duke’s face when it became common knowledge.
“Time is of the essence. To that end, you will be married in two days. Immediately following the ceremony, you will depart. Jenny will remain here with her family.”
Dare was almost too shocked to reply. After a moment, he asked a trifle shortly, “Where am I going?”
The duke waved a hand imperiously. “I neither know nor do I care. You are to make yourself scarce.”
“Why…the bloody hell…would I do that?” Dare bit off each word, angered beyond bearing.
Denbigh sent him a look of disgust. “You are not worthy of my daughter, sir. I w
ill not have her made miserable by the fact that she married so far beneath her.”
Dare snorted in disbelief. He just couldn’t help it. “So far beneath her? I am the son of a gentleman, your grace. Our stations are not that dissimilar.”
“But you are a scoundrel. And while necessity requires that Jenny be married, and quickly, she does not have to have a daily reminder of how low she’s sunk.”
Their discussion could quickly escalate into a shouting match. Dare didn’t let that faze him. While he held himself primarily to blame for the whole situation, he was practical enough to allow Jenny some responsibility as well. It hadn’t been rape, after all.
He couldn’t keep a trace of sarcasm from coloring his reply. “I would think she’d have that anyway, when the child arrives.”
A spasm of pain nearly made Dare clutch at his heart. His child. Would he never get to see his own baby? A sweet little being with blond hair and cornflower eyes just like its mother.
“At least the child will be legitimate. And she has already shown that she eagerly awaits the child’s birth.”
That, at least, gave Dare some small comfort. A woman who so looked forward to her child’s arrival couldn’t totally hate the man who gave it to her…could she?
“Is Jenny aware of your…plans?”
“Yes.”
The single word, said without hesitation, would have brought Dare to his knees had he been standing. He was thankful he was not. He couldn’t appear so weak before this man.
After a moment of intense concentration, he forced his body up. He took a deep breath, tamping down his anger and dismay. “Very well. I will return in two days. Good day, your grace.”
Dare wondered ever after how he’d actually managed to walk out. He entered Adam’s carriage, his extremities numb to the drizzle in the air.
He would not weep. Yelling with more force than necessary, he ordered the coachman to drop him at the nearest tavern, the lower the company, the better. Once there, Dare proceeded to get very, very drunk.
They were duly married. Jenny said her vows in hardly more than a whisper. Dare’s were a little louder but with an air of boredom that was quite insulting to the bride and her family.
The groom didn’t care. He wanted to be anywhere but where he was. He had wanted this woman from the first moment he saw her, and now that he finally had her, he was being forced to leave her…again.
The cleric finished with more joy than was being displayed by anyone else. He suggested the groom kiss the bride and then stood there and beamed at them, completely oblivious to the undercurrents of misery, resignation, and anger that were a nearly palpable entity in the small saloon.
Glancing down at Jenny, he saw she was watching him, but not with anger, more like despair.
Her misery enraged him. A few short months ago, Dare would have been the first to say she had reason, being trapped into marriage with him. But now, she had no need to be miserable, as he would be leaving before the ink was dry on the marriage lines.
Something perverse nudged Dare. Snaking an arm around her waist, he brought her up against him, hard. Not a breath of air could pass between them from chest to thigh. He knew she could feel the proof of his hunger for her. Lips parting on a soft gasp, her eyes darkened with desire.
Dare kissed her brutally, without honor or respect, branding her, marking her. He wanted her under no delusions about his possession of her.
There was a collective gasp from their astonished audience. Dare broke the kiss before anyone could forcefully remove him from the room.
Looking deep into lambent blue eyes, the bridegroom growled, “Remember that while I’m gone.”
Abruptly releasing her, he stalked from the room.
Jenny was too astonished to do more than watch him go. Then, suddenly, her knees gave out and she crumpled to the floor, tears coursing down her pale cheeks. Burying her face in her hands, she wept, releasing all the tears she’d held back.
Her mother’s arms came around her but she was too distraught to take any comfort from the gesture. Her life was ruined and she was unsure exactly who to blame.
“Shh, love. Calm yourself. Think of the child.”
Her mother’s softly whispered plea penetrated her hysterical sobs. Straightening from her near-fetal position on the floor, Jenny swiped at the seemingly endless flow of tears.
Gulping rather inelegantly, she managed to say around the huge lump in her throat, “He left. How could he leave?”
The duchess’s eyes glistened with sympathetic moisture. “Oh, my poor dear. You love that man.” It was not a question, but rather a startling realization on the part of a parent determined to do the right thing for her child no matter how distasteful the action might seem.
And distasteful it had been. Lady Denbigh had not agreed with her husband’s decision to force Darius Prestwich to leave but she had supported him because she thought her daughter might be better off with an absent husband.
But now, after the groom had so angrily stormed off to only God knows where, the Duchess of Denbigh realized how very wrong they’d been. Jenny loved the man, no matter how many mistakes he’d made. And if her suspicions were correct, Lady Denbigh was quite sure Dare loved her daughter with equal force.
Looking up, the duchess met her husband’s angered blue eyes. She couldn’t prevent a tear from falling. The duke stood stoically, for all intents and purposes unaffected by the whole debacle.
But she knew her husband. He was hurting as much as she was; indeed, more so. He was simply better at hiding it.
Connor, on the other hand, usually very adept at hiding his feelings, looked ready to do murder.
Something in the duchess snapped. Her baby was hurting and her men were standing there doing nothing to help.
“Go after him, you fools,” she hissed. It was something so unlike her usual calm poise that they stared at her as if seeing her for the first time.
Shaking off the perverse spurt of satisfaction she felt at managing to shock them—they were two men who did not shock easily—she added, “You have to catch him. If he leaves he may never return because his pride won’t let him. If he doesn’t return…” She let her words trail meaningfully to a halt, hoping she wouldn’t have to spell it out for them in front of Jenny, who Lady Denbigh knew was listening despite her tears.
Connor’s bright eyes fell on his sister, reading her posture and actions with the senses of a bloodhound. He glanced up at his father, sharing the briefest of looks before he turned and ran from the room.
They waited.
And waited.
Jenny managed to bring her raging emotions under control, for the baby’s sake if no one else’s. It was apparent, to her at least, that this child was all she’d have of the man she loved more than life itself.
Connor finally returned, his facial features drawn into a mighty frown. He stopped abruptly in the doorway, sought out Jenny’s red-rimmed eyes, and sighed, shaking his head.
Jenny bit her lower lip, determined not to dissolve again. It was as she’d suspected—he was gone.
Standing with regal dignity, Lady Genevieve Prestwich nodded once to her brother, curtsied to her father, and turned to her mother. Imbuing her words with a measure of haughty disdain, she said, “I’d like to leave.”
Her request startled everyone. It had been planned that Jenny would stay with her family, just as if nothing had changed. She knew this but had been led to believe that while Dare had certain obligations he could not ignore, she would see him from time to time whenever he returned to England. She had not been informed that part of her father’s plans were to deny Jenny her husband.
It was all so clear now. Dare hadn’t left because he wanted to. He’d been compelled to leave.
When no one responded to her demand, she raised one brow in haughty inquiry. “I assume there is a small house somewhere that can be leased for me.” Sending a sidelong glance of scorn in her brother’s direction, she added, “I will not stay her
e. I refuse to stay with people who care so little for me.”
The duke was stunned but retained enough presence of mind to say, softly, “Everything we’ve done was out of love for you, Jenny.”
“Love for me?” she scoffed, every rigid inch of her body speaking of her icy contempt for their loving attention. “You speak of love for me.” She drew in a shuddery breath. “Your love,” she said, making the word sound abhorrent. “Your love for me has cost me a husband. A man worth the lot of you put together. In character if not in property. But, apparently, property is what’s important to you. So, I will assume that a place will be provided for me. It is the least you can do, considering.”
She swept from the room, drawing her primrose skirts around her, lest they brush her brother’s legs as she left. She did not miss the look of hurt in Con’s eyes, and though it pained her to do something so despicable to the brother she had loved so well, she resolutely ignored it.
Chapter Sixteen
Her father did not disappoint her in his choice of residence. He provided her with a quaint little cottage nearly fifteen miles away from her family home. It was far enough that she could ignore them but close enough that those in the vicinity could still feel the duke’s power.
Jenny settled in quickly, determined to make a life for herself and her baby. She hoped and prayed her husband would one day return, even knowing that the chances of such an occurrence were slim indeed.
Her father provided a maid-of-all-work and a cook, plus a man to do the outside work and any heavy lifting and such. The maid lived in while the cook and manservant came for the day and went home to their own families at night.
The maid, Lucy, was a pleasant, youngish woman, much of an age with Jenny. A part of her wondered if perhaps her father was trying to provide her with a friend in the understanding, bubbly girl. But, as it wasn’t important to her, she didn’t dwell on it overlong.